Proverbs and sayings about May HORIZONTALLY: 2. May will deceive - in ... will leave.4 ....
In the evening, winding up the tape measure, the caretaker said that Dugaev would receive the next day single measurement. The foreman, who was standing nearby and asking the caretaker to lend "a dozen cubes until the day after tomorrow," suddenly fell silent and began to look at the evening star twinkling behind the crest of the hill. Baranov, Dugaev's partner, who helped the caretaker measure the work done, took a shovel and began to clean up the long-cleaned face.
Dugaev was twenty-three years old, and everything he saw and heard here surprised him more than frightened him.
The brigade gathered for roll call, handed over the instrument, and returned to the barracks in a prisoner's uneven formation. The hard day was over. In the dining room, without sitting down, Dugaev drank a portion of thin cold cereal soup over the side of the bowl. Bread was given out in the morning for the whole day and was eaten long ago. I wanted to smoke. He looked around, wondering who to beg for a cigarette butt. On the windowsill, Baranov collected shag grains from an inside-out pouch into a piece of paper. Having carefully collected them, Baranov rolled up a thin cigarette and handed it to Dugaev.
“Kuri, leave it to me,” he suggested.
Dugaev was surprised - he and Baranov were not friendly. However, with hunger, cold and insomnia, no friendship is struck up, and Dugaev, despite his youth, understood the falsity of the saying about friendship, tested by misfortune and misfortune. In order for friendship to be friendship, it is necessary that its strong foundation be laid when conditions, life have not yet reached the last boundary, beyond which there is nothing human in a person, but only mistrust, anger and lies. Dugaev well remembered the northern saying, the three commandments of the prisoner: do not believe, do not be afraid and do not ask ...
Dugaev greedily sucked in the sweet tobacco smoke, and his head began to spin.
“Weakening,” he said. Baranov said nothing.
Dugaev returned to the barracks, lay down and closed his eyes. Lately he hadn't slept well, hunger didn't let him sleep well. Dreams were especially painful - loaves of bread, steaming fatty soups ... Forgetfulness did not come soon, but still, half an hour before getting up, Dugaev had already opened his eyes.
The team came to work. Everyone dispersed to their destinations.
“And you wait,” said the foreman to Dugaev. - The caretaker will put you in.
Dugaev sat down on the ground. He had already managed to get tired enough to treat with complete indifference any change in his fate.
The first wheelbarrows rumbled on the ladder, shovels screeched against stone.
“Come here,” the caretaker said to Dugaev. - Here's your place. - He measured out the cubature of the face and put a mark - a piece of quartz. “This way,” he said. - The trapper will get you a board to the main ladder. Carry where and everything. Here's a shovel, a pick, a crowbar, a wheelbarrow - take it.
Dugaev dutifully began work.
Even better, he thought. None of the comrades will grumble that he does not work well. Former grain growers are not required to understand and know that Dugaev is a beginner, that immediately after school he began to study at the university, and exchanged the university bench for this slaughter. Every man for himself. They are not obliged, they should not understand that he has been exhausted and hungry for a long time, that he does not know how to steal: the ability to steal is the main northern virtue in all its forms, from the bread of a comrade to the issuance of thousands of bonuses to the authorities for non-existent, non-former achievements. No one cares that Dugaev cannot endure a sixteen-hour working day.
Dugaev drove, fired, poured, drove again and again fired and poured.
After the lunch break, the caretaker came, looked at what Dugaev had done, and silently left ... Dugaev again fired and poured. It was still very far from the quartz mark.
In the evening the caretaker came again and unwound the tape measure. - He measured what Dugaev did.
“Twenty-five percent,” he said, and looked at Dugaev. - Twenty-five percent. Do you hear?
- I hear, - said Dugaev. This number surprised him. The work was so hard, so little stone was picked up with a shovel, it was so hard to pick. The figure - twenty-five percent of the norm - seemed to Dugaev very large. Calves ached, from the emphasis on the wheelbarrow, my arms, shoulders, head hurt unbearably. The feeling of hunger had long since left him.
Dugaev ate because he saw how others were eating, something told him: you need to eat. But he didn't want to eat.
“Well, well,” said the caretaker, leaving. - I wish you well.
In the evening, Dugaev was summoned to the investigator. He answered four questions: name, surname, article, term. Four questions that are asked thirty times a day to a prisoner. Then Dugaev went to bed. The next day, he again worked with the brigade, with Baranov, and on the night of the day after tomorrow, soldiers led him behind the conbase, and led him along a forest path to a place where, almost blocking a small gorge, there was a high fence with barbed wire stretched on top, and from where at night the distant chirring of tractors could be heard. And, realizing what was the matter, Dugaev regretted that he had worked in vain, that this last day had been tormented in vain.
Varlam Shalamov
Single metering
In the evening, winding up the tape measure, the caretaker said that Dugaev would receive a single measurement the next day. The brigadier, who was standing nearby and asking the caretaker to lend "a dozen cubes until the day after tomorrow," suddenly fell silent and began to look at the evening star twinkling behind the crest of the hill. Baranov, Dugaev's partner, who helped the caretaker measure the work done, took a shovel and began to clean up the long-cleaned face.
Dugaev was twenty-three years old, and everything he saw and heard here surprised him more than frightened him.
The brigade gathered for roll call, handed over the instrument, and returned to the barracks in the prisoner's uneven formation. The hard day was over. With his head, Dugaev, without sitting down, drank a portion of thin cold cereal soup over the side of the bowl. Bread was given out in the morning for the whole day and was eaten long ago. I wanted to smoke. He looked around, wondering who to beg for a cigarette butt. On the windowsill, Baranov collected shag grains from an inside-out pouch into a piece of paper. Having carefully collected them, Baranov rolled up a thin cigarette and handed it to Dugaev.
“Kuri, leave it to me,” he suggested. Dugaev was surprised - he and Baranov were not friendly. However, with hunger, cold and insomnia, no friendship is struck up, and Dugaev, despite his youth, understood the falsity of the saying about friendship, tested by misfortune and misfortune. In order for friendship to be friendship, it is necessary that its strong foundation be laid when conditions, life have not yet reached the last boundary, beyond which there is nothing human in a person, but only mistrust, anger and lies. Dugaev well remembered the northern proverb, the three commandments of the prisoner: do not believe, do not be afraid and do not ask ...
Dugaev greedily sucked in the sweet tobacco smoke, and his head began to spin.
“Weakening,” he said.
Baranov said nothing.
Dugaev returned to the barracks, lay down and closed his eyes. Lately he hadn't slept well, hunger didn't let him sleep well. Dreams were especially painful - loaves of bread, steaming fatty soups ... Forgetfulness did not come soon, but still, half an hour before getting up, Dugaev had already opened his eyes.
The team came to work. Everyone dispersed to their destinations.
“And you wait,” said the foreman to Dugaev. - The caretaker will put you in.
Dugaev sat down on the ground. He had already managed to get tired enough to treat with complete indifference any change in his fate.
The first wheelbarrows rumbled on the ladder, shovels screeched against stone.
“Come here,” the caretaker said to Dugaev. - Here's your place. - He measured out the cubature of the face and put a mark - a piece of quartz. “This way,” he said. - The trapper will get you a board to the main ladder. Carry where and everything. Here's a shovel, a pick, a crowbar, a wheelbarrow - take it.
Dugaev dutifully began work.
Even better, he thought. None of the comrades will grumble that he does not work well. Former grain growers are not required to understand and know that Dugaev is a beginner, that immediately after school he began to study at the university, and exchanged the university bench for this slaughter. Every man for himself. They are not obliged, they should not understand that he has been exhausted and hungry for a long time, that he does not know how to steal: the ability to steal is the main northern virtue in all its forms, from the bread of a comrade to the issuance of thousands of bonuses to the authorities for non-existent, non-former achievements. No one cares that Dugaev cannot endure a sixteen-hour working day.
Dugaev drove, fired, poured, drove again and again fired and poured.
After the lunch break, the caretaker came, looked at what Dugaev had done, and silently left ... Dugaev again fired and poured. It was still very far from the quartz mark.
In the evening the caretaker came again and unwound the tape measure. He measured what Dugaev did.
“Twenty-five percent,” he said, and looked at Dugaev. - Twenty-five percent. Do you hear?
- I hear, - said Dugaev. This number surprised him. The work was so hard, so little stone was picked up with a shovel, it was so hard to pick. The figure - twenty-five percent of the norm - seemed to Dugaev very large. Calves ached, from the emphasis on the wheelbarrow, my arms, shoulders, head hurt unbearably. The feeling of hunger had long since left him.
Dugaev ate because he saw how others were eating, something told him: you need to eat. But he didn't want to eat.
“Well, well,” said the caretaker, leaving. - I wish you well.
In the evening, Dugaev was summoned to the investigator. He answered four questions: name, surname, article, term. Four questions that are asked thirty times a day to a prisoner. Then Dugaev went to bed. The next day, he again worked with the brigade, with Baranov, and on the night of the day after tomorrow, soldiers led him behind the conbase, and led him along a forest path to a place where, almost blocking a small gorge, there was a high fence with barbed wire stretched on top, and from where at night the distant chirring of tractors could be heard. And, realizing what was the matter, Dugaev regretted that he had worked in vain, that this last day had been tormented in vain.
The plot of the stories of V. Shalamov is a painful description of the prison and camp life of the prisoners of the Soviet Gulag, their similar tragic destinies, in which chance, merciless or sweet, reigns. -stevey, assistant or murderer, arbitrariness of bosses and thieves. Hunger and its convulsive saturation, exhaustion, painful death, slow and almost equally painful recovery, moral humiliation and moral degradation - that's what is constantly in the center of attention of the writer.
Gravestone
The author recalls by name his comrades in the camps. Calling to mind a mournful martyrologist, he tells who died and how, who suffered and how, who hoped for what, who and how behaved in this Auschwitz without stoves, as Shalamov called Kolyma th camps. Few managed to survive, few managed to survive and remain morally unbroken.
Life of engineer Kipreev
Having betrayed and sold no one, the author says that he has developed for himself a formula for actively protecting his existence: a person can only consider himself a man and survive if at any moment he is ready to commit suicide, ready to death. However, later he realizes that he only built himself a comfortable shelter, because it is not known what you will be like at the decisive moment, whether you just have enough physical strength, and not just mental. Arrested in 1938, engineer-physicist Kipreev not only withstood the beating during interrogation, but even rushed at the investigator, after which he was put in a punishment cell. However, they are still trying to get him to sign false testimony, intimidating him with the arrest of his wife. Nevertheless, Kipreev continued to prove to himself and others that he was a man, and not a slave, as all prisoners are. Thanks to his talent (he invented a way to restore burned-out electric light bulbs, repaired an x-ray machine), he manages to avoid the most heavy work, however, not always. He miraculously survives, but the moral shock remains in him forever.
Pre-bet
Camp corruption, Shalamov testifies, to a greater or lesser extent concerned everyone and took place in the most different forms. Two thieves are playing cards. One of them loses in fluff and asks to play for a “pre-bet”, that is, in debt. At some point, razzed by the game, he unexpectedly orders an ordinary prisoner from intellectuals, having accidentally found himself among the spectators of their game, to give the woolen pullover. He refuses, and then one of the thieves “finishes” him, and the blatar still gets the sweater.
At night
Two prisoners sneak to the grave, where the body of their dead comrade was buried in the morning, and take off the linen from the dead man in order to sell it or exchange it for bread or tobacco the next day. The initial disdain for taking off their clothes is replaced by a pleasant thought that tomorrow they might be able to eat a little more and even smoke.
Single metering
Camp labor, unequivocally defined by Shalamov as slave labor, for the writer is a form of the same corruption. A profitable prisoner is not able to give a percentage rate, so labor becomes torture and slow killing. Zek Dugaev is gradually weakening, unable to endure the six-on-dza-ty-cha-so-working day. He carries, kailits, pours, again carries and again kilits, and in the evening the caretaker appears and measures what Dugaev has done with a tape measure. The mentioned figure - 25 percent - seems to Dugaev to be very large, his calves are aching, his hands, shoulders, head are unbearably sore, he even lost his sense of hunger. A little later, he is called to the investigator, who asks the usual questions: name, surname, article, term. And a day later, the soldiers take Dugaev to a remote place, fenced off by a high fence with barbed wire, from where at night the sound of tractors can be heard. Dugaev guesses why he was brought here and that his life is over. And he regrets only that the last day was in vain.
Rain
Rozovsky, who is working in the pit, suddenly, despite the menacing gesture of the guard, calls out to the narrator, who is working nearby, to share his soul-time -di-ra-revelation: “Listen, listen! I've been thinking! And I realized that there is no meaning to life ... No ... ”But before Rozovsky, for whom life has now lost value, manages to rush to the escorts, the narrator manages to run up to him and, saving him from a reckless and disastrous act, tell the approaching convoys that he was sick. A little later, Rozovsky pre-pri-ni-makes an attempt at suicide, throwing himself under the car-net. He is tried and sent to another place.
Sherry Brandy
A prisoner-poet dies, who is called the first Russian poet of the twentieth century. It lies in the dark depths of the bottom row of solid two-story bunks. He dies for a long time. Sometimes a thought comes - for example, that they stole bread from him, which he put under his head, and it is so terrible that he is ready to swear, fight, search ... But he no longer has the strength for this, and the thought of bread also weakens. When a daily ration is put into his hand, he presses the bread with all his might to his mouth, sucks it, tries to tear and gnaw with his scurvy, shaky teeth. When he dies, they don’t write him off for another two days, and inventive neighbors manage to get bread on the dead as if it were alive when they distribute it: they make him, like a mari-o doll - No, raise your hand.
Shock therapy
Prisoner Merz-lyakov, a man of large body build, having found himself at general work, feels that he is gradually losing. One day he falls, cannot get up immediately and refuses to drag the log. He is beaten first by his own, then by the guards, they bring him to the camp - he has a broken rib and pain in his lower back. And although the pains quickly passed, and the rib grew together, Merzlyakov continues to complain and pretends that he cannot straighten up, trying to delay his discharge to work at any cost. He is sent to the central hospital, to the surgical department, and from there to the nervous department for research. He has a chance to be activated, that is, written off due to illness at will. Remembering the mine, aching cold, a bowl of empty soup, which he drank, without even using a spoon, he concentrates all his will so as not to be caught cheating and sent to a penal mine. However, the doctor Pyotr Ivanovich, himself a prisoner in the past, was not a blunder. The professional displaces the human in him. Most he spends his time precisely on disclosing simulants. This amuses his vanity: he is an excellent specialist and is proud that he has retained his qualifications, despite a year of general work. He immediately understands that Merz-lyakov is a simulant, and anticipates the theatrical effect of the new revelation. First, the doctor gives him raush anesthesia, during which the body of Merz-la-kov manages to unbend, and a week later the procedure is so-called shock therapy, the action of which is similar to an attack of violent madness or an epileptic seizure. After it, the prisoner himself asks to be discharged.
Typhoid Quarantine
Prisoner Andreev, ill with typhus, gets into quarantine. Compared to general work in the mines, the position of the patient gives a chance to survive, which the hero almost no longer hoped for. And then he decides, by all rights or wrongs, to stay here as long as possible, in transit, and there, perhaps, he will no longer be sent to the gold mines, where there is hunger, beatings and death. At the roll call before the next dispatch to work of those who are considered to have recovered, Andreev does not respond, and thus he manages to hide for quite a long time. The transit is gradually emptying, and the line finally reaches Andreev as well. But now it seems to him that he has won his battle for life, that now the taiga is saturated, and if there are dispatches, then only to nearby, local commands. However, when a truck with a selected group of prisoners, who were unexpectedly given winter uniforms, passes the line separating near from distant commands, it understands that fate cruelly laughed at him.
aortic aneurysm
Illness (and the emaciated state of the “goal” prisoners is quite equivalent to a serious illness, although it was not officially considered as such) and the hospital - in the stories of Shalamov, an indispensable attribute of the plot tics. The prisoner Ekaterina Glovatskaya gets into the hospital. Beauty, she immediately took a liking to the doctor on duty Zaitsev, and although he knows that she is in close relations with his acquaintance, the prisoner Podshi-va-lov, the leader As a member of a circle of artistic self-de-I-tality (“fortress theatre,” as the head of the hospital jokes), nothing prevents him from trying his luck in his turn. He starts, as usual, with a medical examination of Glovatskaya, with listening to the heart, but his male intrigue is quickly replaced by a purely medical concern -chen-no-stu. He finds an aortic aneurysm in Glovatsky, a disease in which any careless movement can cause death. The authorities, who took it as an unwritten rule to separate lovers, already once sent Glovatskaya to a penal women's mine. And now, after the doctor's report about dangerous disease prisoner, the head of the hospital is sure that this is nothing more than the machinations of the same Podshi-va-lov, trying to detain his mistress. Glovatskaya is discharged, but already when loading into the car, what Dr. Zaitsev warned about happens - she dies.
Major Pugachev's last fight
Among the heroes of Shalamov's prose there are those who not only strive to survive at any cost, but are also able to intervene in the course of circumstances, to stand up for themselves, even risking their lives. According to the author, after the war of 1941-1945. prisoners who fought and passed German captivity began to arrive in the northeastern camps. These are people of a different temper, “with courage, the ability to take risks, who believed only in weapons. Commanders and soldiers, pilots and scouts ... ". But most importantly, they possessed the instinct of freedom that the war awakened in them. They shed their blood, they sacrificed their lives, they saw death face to face. They were not corrupted by camp slavery and were not yet exhausted to the point of losing their strength and will. Their “guilt” consisted in the fact that they were surrounded or captured. And it is clear to Major Pugachev, one of these people who have not yet been broken: “they were brought to their deaths - to replace these living dead people” whom they met in Soviet camps. Then the former major collects just as resolute and strong, to match, prisoners who are ready to either die or become free. In their group - pilots, scout, paramedic, tanker. They realized that they were innocently doomed to death and that they had nothing to lose. All winter they are preparing an escape. Pugachev realized that only those who pass through the general work. And the participants in the conspiracy, one by one, are promoted to the service: someone becomes a cook, someone is a kul-bargainer who repairs weapons in the security detachment. But spring is coming, and with it the appointed day.
At five o'clock in the morning there was a knock on the watch. The duty officer let in the camp cook-prisoner, who, as usual, came for the keys to the pantry. A minute later, the duty officer turns out to be strangled, and one of the prisoners changes into his uniform. The same thing happens with the other, who returned a little later on duty. Then everything goes according to Pugachev's plan. The conspirators burst into the premises of the guard detachment and, having shot the duty officer, take charge of the weapon. Holding suddenly awakened fighters at gunpoint, they change into military uniform and stock up on provisions. Leaving the camp, they stop a truck on the highway, drop off the driver and continue on their way in the car until the gas runs out. After that, they go to the taiga. At night - the first night at liberty after long months of captivity - Pugachev, waking up, recalls his escape from the German camp in 1944, crossing the front line, interrogation in a special department, accusation of espionage Even the sentence is twenty-five years in prison. He also recalls the visits to the German camp of the emissaries of General Vlasov, who recruited Russian soldiers, convincing them that for the Soviet authorities all of them, who were captured, were traitors to the Motherland. Pugachev did not believe them until he could see for himself. He looks with love at the sleeping comrades who believe in him and stretch out their hands to freedom, he knows that they are "the best, worthy of all." And a little later, a battle begins, the last hopeless battle between the fugitives and their surrounding soldiers. Almost all of the fugitives die, except for one, seriously wounded, who is cured to be shot later. Only Major Pugachev manages to escape, but he knows, huddled in a bear's lair, that they will find him anyway. He doesn't regret what he did. His last shot is to himself.
Reads in 10-15 minutes
original - 4-5 hours
The plot of V. Shalamov's stories is a painful description of the prison and camp life of the prisoners of the Soviet Gulag, their tragic destinies similar to each other, in which chance, merciless or merciful, helper or murderer, arbitrariness of bosses and thieves dominate. Hunger and its convulsive satiety, exhaustion, painful dying, a slow and almost equally painful recovery, moral humiliation and moral degradation - this is what is constantly in the center of the writer's attention.
For the show
Camp corruption, Shalamov testifies, affected everyone to a greater or lesser extent and took place in a variety of forms. Two thieves are playing cards. One of them is played down and asks to play for a "representation", that is, in debt. At some point, irritated by the game, he unexpectedly orders an ordinary intellectual prisoner, who happened to be among the spectators of their game, to give a woolen sweater. He refuses, and then one of the thieves "finishes" him, and the sweater still goes to the thieves.
Single metering
Camp labor, unequivocally defined by Shalamov as slave labor, is for the writer a form of the same corruption. A goner-prisoner is not able to give a percentage rate, so labor becomes torture and slow death. Zek Dugaev is gradually weakening, unable to withstand the sixteen-hour working day. He drives, turns, pours, again drives and again turns, and in the evening the caretaker appears and measures Dugaev's work with a tape measure. The mentioned figure - 25 percent - seems to Dugaev to be very large, his calves are aching, his arms, shoulders, head are unbearably sore, he even lost his sense of hunger. A little later, he is called to the investigator, who asks the usual questions: name, surname, article, term. A day later, the soldiers take Dugaev to a remote place, fenced with a high fence with barbed wire, from where the chirring of tractors can be heard at night. Dugaev guesses why he was brought here and that his life is over. And he regrets only that the last day was in vain.
Shock therapy
Prisoner Merzlyakov, a man of large build, finds himself at common work, feels that he is gradually losing. One day he falls, cannot get up immediately and refuses to drag the log. He is beaten first by his own people, then by the escorts, they bring him to the camp - he has a broken rib and pain in the lower back. And although the pain quickly passed, and the rib grew together, Merzlyakov continues to complain and pretends that he cannot straighten up, trying to delay his discharge to work at any cost. He is sent to the central hospital, to the surgical department, and from there to the nervous department for research. He has a chance to be activated, that is, written off due to illness at will. Remembering the mine, aching cold, a bowl of empty soup that he drank without even using a spoon, he concentrates all his will so as not to be convicted of deceit and sent to a penal mine. However, the doctor Pyotr Ivanovich, himself a prisoner in the past, was not a blunder. The professional replaces the human in him. He spends most of his time exposing the fakers. This amuses his vanity: he is an excellent specialist and is proud that he has retained his qualifications, despite the year of general work. He immediately understands that Merzlyakov is a simulator and looks forward to the theatrical effect of a new exposure. First, the doctor gives him roush anesthesia, during which Merzlyakov’s body can be straightened, and a week later, the procedure of the so-called shock therapy, the effect of which is similar to an attack of violent madness or an epileptic seizure. After it, the prisoner himself asks for an extract.
Major Pugachev's last fight
Among the heroes of Shalamov's prose there are those who not only strive to survive at any cost, but are also able to intervene in the course of circumstances, to stand up for themselves, even risking their lives. According to the author, after the war of 1941-1945. prisoners who fought and passed German captivity began to arrive in the northeastern camps. These are people of a different temper, “with courage, the ability to take risks, who believed only in weapons. Commanders and soldiers, pilots and scouts...”. But most importantly, they possessed the instinct of freedom, which the war awakened in them. They shed their blood, sacrificed their lives, saw death face to face. They were not corrupted by camp slavery and were not yet exhausted to the point of losing their strength and will. Their “guilt” was that they were surrounded or captured. And it is clear to Major Pugachev, one of these people who have not yet been broken: “they were brought to their death - to change these living dead,” whom they met in Soviet camps. Then the former major gathers prisoners who are just as determined and strong, to match, ready to either die or become free. In their group - pilots, scout, paramedic, tanker. They realized that they were innocently doomed to death and that they had nothing to lose. All winter they are preparing an escape. Pugachev realized that only those who bypassed the general work could survive the winter and then run away. And the participants in the conspiracy, one by one, advance into the service: someone becomes a cook, someone a cultist who repairs weapons in the security detachment. But spring is coming, and with it the day ahead.
At five o'clock in the morning there was a knock on the watch. The attendant lets in the camp cook-prisoner, who, as usual, has come for the keys to the pantry. A minute later, the duty officer is strangled, and one of the prisoners changes into his uniform. The same thing happens with another, who returned a little later on duty. Then everything goes according to Pugachev's plan. The conspirators break into the premises of the security detachment and, having shot the guard on duty, take possession of the weapon. Keeping the suddenly awakened fighters at gunpoint, they change into military uniforms and stock up on provisions. Having gone outside the camp, they stop a truck on the highway, drop off the driver and continue on their way in the car until the gas runs out. After that, they go to the taiga. At night - the first night at liberty after long months of captivity - Pugachev, waking up, recalls his escape from the German camp in 1944, crossing the front line, interrogation in a special department, accusation of espionage and sentence - twenty-five years in prison. He also recalls the visits to the German camp of the emissaries of General Vlasov, who recruited Russian soldiers, convincing them that for the Soviet authorities all of them, who were captured, are traitors to the Motherland. Pugachev did not believe them until he could see for himself. He looks lovingly at the sleeping comrades who believe in him and stretch out their hands to freedom, he knows that they are "the best, worthy of all." And a little later, a fight ensues, the last hopeless battle between the fugitives and the soldiers surrounding them. Almost all of the fugitives die, except for one, seriously wounded, who is cured and then shot. Only Major Pugachev manages to escape, but he knows, hiding in a bear's lair, that he will be found anyway. He doesn't regret what he did. His last shot was at himself.
Shalamov Varlam Tikhonovich was born in Vologda in a priestly family. After graduating from school and enrolling at Moscow University, Shalamov actively writes poetic works, works in literary circles. For participating in a rally against the leader of the peoples, he was sentenced to three years, after his release he was imprisoned several more times. In total, Shalamov spent seventeen years in prison, about which he creates his collection “ Kolyma stories”, which is an autobiographical episode of the author's experience behind barbed wire.
For the show
This story is about a card game played by two thieves. One of them loses and asks to play on credit, which was not obligatory, but Sevochka did not want to deprive the losing blatar of the last chance to win back, and he agrees. There is nothing to stake, but the player who has gone into a rage is no longer able to stop, he selects with his eyes one of the convicts who happened to be here by chance, and demands to take off his sweater. The prisoner who fell under the hot hand refuses. Immediately, one of Seva's sixes with an imperceptible movement throws a hand in his direction, and the prisoner falls dead to the side. The sweater goes into the use of the blatar.
At night
After a meager prison dinner, Glebov and Bagretsov went to a rock located behind a distant hill. It was a long walk, and they stopped to rest. Two friends, brought here at the same time on the same ship, went to dig up the corpse of a comrade, buried only this morning.
Throwing aside the stones that covered the dead body, they pull the dead man out of the pit and pull off his shirt. Assessing the quality of the underpants, the friends pull them off as well. Having removed things from the dead man, Glebov hides them under his quilted jacket. After burying the corpse in place, the friends go back. Their rainbow dreams are warmed by anticipation tomorrow when they can exchange something edible for these, or even shag.
Carpenters
There was a severe frost outside, from which saliva froze on the fly.
Potashnikov feels that his strength is running out, and if something does not happen, he will simply die. With all his exhausted body, Potashnikov passionately and hopelessly wishes to meet death in a hospital bed, where he will be given at least a little human attention. He is disgusted by death with the disregard of others, who look at the death of their own kind with complete indifference.
On this day, Potashnikov was fabulously lucky. Some visiting chief demanded from the brigadier people who knew how to carpentry. The foreman understood that with such an article as the convicts of his brigade, there could not be people with such a specialty, and he explained this to the visitor. Then the chief turned to the brigade. Potashnikov stepped forward, followed by another prisoner. Both followed the visitor to their place. new work. On the way, they found out that neither of them had ever held a saw or an ax in their hands.
Having figured out their cunning for the right to survive, the carpenter treated them like a human being, giving the prisoners a couple of days of life. And two days later it was warm.
Single metering
After the end of the working day, the warden warns the prisoner that tomorrow he will work separately from the brigade. Dugaev was surprised only by the reaction of the foreman and his partner, who heard these words.
The next day the overseer showed the place of work, and the man dutifully began to dig. He was even glad that he was alone, and there was no one to push him. By evening, the young prisoner was exhausted to such an extent that he did not even feel hungry. Having made a measurement of the work done by a person, the caretaker said that a quarter of the norm had been done. For Dugaev, this was a huge figure, he was surprised at how much he did.
After work, the investigator called the convict, asked the usual questions, and Dugaev went to rest. The next day, he was digging and rocking with his brigade, and at night the soldiers took the prisoner to where they no longer come from. Finally realizing what was about to happen, Dugaev felt sorry that he had worked and suffered in vain that day.
Berries
A team of people who have worked in the forest descends to the barracks. Each has a log on his shoulder. One of the prisoners falls, for which one of the guards promises to kill him tomorrow. The next day, the prisoners continued to collect everything in the forest that could be used to heat the barracks. Rose hips, bushes of overripe lingonberries and blueberries come across on last year's withered grass.
One of the prisoners collects shriveled berries in a jar, after which he will exchange them for bread from the detachment cook. The day was drawing to a close, and the jar was not yet filled when the prisoners approached the forbidden lane. One of them offered to return, but the comrade had a great desire to get an extra piece of bread, and he stepped into the restricted area, immediately receiving a bullet from the escort. The first prisoner picked up a jar that rolled to the side, he knew who he could get bread from.
The escort regretted that the first one had not crossed the line, so he wanted to send him to the next world.
sherry brandy
On the bunk, a man is dying, who was predicted a great future on the literary path, he was a talented poet of the twentieth century. He died painfully and for a long time. Various visions flashed through his head, dream and reality were confused. Coming to consciousness, the man believed that people needed his poetry, that it gave mankind an understanding of something new. Until now, poems were born in his head.
The day came when they gave him a ration of bread, which he could no longer chew, but simply procrastinated over his rotting teeth. Then the cellmates began to stop him, urging him to leave the piece for the next time. And then everything became clear to the poet. He died the same day, but the neighbors managed to use his dead body for two more days to get extra rations.
Condensed milk
The writer's cellmate in Butyrskaya prison, engineer Shestakov, worked not at the mine, but in the geological office. One day, he saw how lustfully he looked at the loaves of fresh bread in the grocery store. This allowed him to offer his friend to smoke first, and then go on the run. It immediately became clear to the narrator at what price Shestakov decided to pay for his dust-free position in the office. The prisoner was well aware that none of the convicts could overcome the long distance, but Shestakov promised him to bring condensed milk, and the man agreed.
All night the prisoner thought about the impossible escape, and about cans of canned milk. The whole working day was spent in anticipation of the evening, after waiting for the beep, the writer went to the engineer's barracks. Shestakov was already waiting for him on the porch, he had the promised jars in his pockets. Sitting at the table, the man opened the cans and drank the milk. He looked at Shestakov and said that he had changed his mind. The engineer understood.
The prisoner could not warn his cellmates, and two of them lost their lives a week later, and three received a new term. Shestakov was transferred to another mine.
Shock therapy
Merzlyakov worked at one of the mines. While a person could steal oats from horse feeders, he still somehow supported his body, but when he was transferred to general work, he realized that he could not endure it for a long time, and death frightened him, the person really wanted to live. He began to look for any way to get to the hospital, and when the convict was severely beaten, breaking a rib, he decided that this was his chance. Merzlyakov was lying in a bent state all the time, the hospital did not have the necessary equipment, and he managed to deceive doctors for a whole year.
In the end, the patient was sent to the central hospital, where they could take an x-ray and make a diagnosis. Served as a neuropathologist in the hospital former prisoner, who at one time had the position of associate professor of one of the leading medical institutions. Not being able to help people in the wild, improving his skills, he honed his skills by exposing convicts feigning illness in order to somehow alleviate their plight. The fact that Merzlyakov was a malingerer became clear to Pyotr Ivanovich from the first minute, and the more he wanted to prove it in the presence of high authorities, and experience a sense of superiority.
First, the doctor unbends the bent body with the help of anesthesia, but when the patient continues to insist on his illness, Pyotr Ivanovich uses the method of shock therapy, and after a while the patient himself asks to leave the hospital.
Typhoid Quarantine
Years of work in the mines undermined Andreev's health, and he was sent to typhoid quarantine. With all his might, trying to survive, Andreev tried to stay in quarantine as long as possible, to postpone the day of returning to severe frosts and inhuman labor. Adapting and getting out, he was able to hold out for three months in typhoid barracks. Most of the inmates have already been sent out of quarantine for long-distance transfers. Only a dozen or three people remained, Andreev already thought that he had won, and he would not be sent to the mines, but to the next business trip, where he would spend the rest of his term. Doubts crept in when they were given winter clothes. And when the last close business trips remained in the distance, he realized that fate had outplayed him.
This does not end the cycle of stories of the great Russian writer V. T. Shalamov, on own experience who endured 17 years of hard labor, who managed in the camps not only to remain a man, but also to return to his former life. All the hardships and sufferings experienced affected the writer's health, he lost his sight, stopped hearing, almost could not move, but reading his stories, you understand how important it is to strive for life, to preserve human qualities in oneself.
Pride and dignity, honor and nobility should be an integral feature of a real person.
Picture or drawing Shalamov - Kolyma stories
Other retellings for the reader's diary
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In the summer I lived on the river bank in the doctor's house. One day the doctor was returning home from work and picked up a blind dog. He washed him, fed him, gave him the nickname Arcturus and left him to live. The dog liked to walk with me along the river bank.
