This story is more than half a century old. The exact date is February 8, 1945.
Its first publication was oral – an unknown telegraph spread the news to the Nazi death camps. Tortured, exhausted, doomed to death, people rejoiced in her as their own victory. This was what everyone dreamed of. Were running! Yes, how – on a hijacked plane!
In the Baltic Sea, on a line north of Berlin, there is the islet of Usedom. At its western end was the secret Peenemünde base. It was called the “Goering Nature Reserve”. The latest aircraft were tested here. There was a rocket center headed by Wernher von Braun. From ten launch sites located along the coast, at night, leaving tongues of fire, V-2 went into the sky. With this weapon, the Nazis hoped to reach right up to New York. But in the spring of 1945 it was important for them to terrorize a closer point – London. However, the serial V-1 flew only 325 kilometers. With the loss of the launch base in the west, the cruise missile was launched from Peenemünde. From here to London is more than a thousand kilometers. The rocket was lifted by plane and launched over the sea.
The aviation unit, which tested the latest technology, was headed by thirty-three-year-old ace Karl Heinz Graudenz. Behind his shoulders were many military merits, marked by Hitler's awards. Dozens of “Heinkels”, “Junkers”, “Messerschmitts” of the top-secret unit took part in the feverish work at Peenemunde. Graudenz himself participated in the tests. He flew the Heinkel-111, which had the monogram “G.A.” – “Gustav Anton”. The base was carefully guarded by air defense fighters and anti-aircraft guns, as well as by the SS.
February 8, 1945 was an ordinary, tense day with nervous overload. Ober-Lieutenant Graudenz, having a quick lunch in the dining room, was putting his flight documents in order in his office. Suddenly the phone rang:
– Who is it that took off like a crow? – heard Graudenz the rough voice of the head of the air defense.
– Nobody took off from me …
– I didn't take off … I saw it myself through binoculars – “Gustav Anton” took off somehow.
“Get yourself another pair of binoculars, stronger ones,” Graudenz flared up. – My “Gustav Anton” stands with sheathed motors. Only I can take off on it. Maybe our planes fly already without pilots?
– You'd better see if “Gustav Anton” is in place … Ober-Lieutenant Graudenz jumped into the car and two minutes later was in the parking lot of his plane. Motor covers and a battery trolley are all that the numb ace saw. “Raise the fighters! Raise everything you can! Catch up and shoot down!” … An hour later the planes returned with nothing.
With a shiver in his stomach, Graudenz went to the telephone to report the incident to Berlin.
Goering, learning about the state of emergency at a secret base, stamped his feet – “hang the guilty!” On February 13, Goering and Bormann flew to Peenemünde … How the head of Karl Heinz Graudenz survived remains a mystery. Perhaps they remembered the former merits of the ace, but, most likely, Goering's rage was softened by a saving lie: “The plane was caught up over the sea and shot down.” Who hijacked the plane? The first thing that came to Graudenz's mind was “tom-mi” … The British were worried about the base from which the “Fau” flew. Probably their agent. But in the caponier – an earthen shelter for aircraft, near which the hijacked “Heinkel” was located, a guard of a group of prisoners of war was found dead. They filled the bomb craters that day.
An urgent formation in the camp immediately showed that ten prisoners were missing. They were all Russian. A day later, the SS reported: one of the fugitives was not teacher Grigory Nikitenko at all, but pilot Mikhail Devyatayev.
Character
Mikhail Devyatayev … We are sitting in his house. Mikhail Petrovich recalls.
He is a Mordvin. He was the thirteenth child of his mother. The father died of typhus when the boy was two years old. It is easy to imagine how life was in a poor village family with many children. However, all the children survived. And according to the laws of life, they grew up strong, courageous, not afraid of adversity.
In 1934, a plane flew to the Mordovian village of Torbeevo to pick up the patient. Mikhail was sixteen years old. The sight of an airplane on the field, a short conversation with the pilot made a dream come true in the young soul. School is over. He said to his mother: “I am going to Kazan. I will return as a pilot.”
He came to Kazan barefoot, wearing a T-shirt made of washed red cotton. The first two nights I slept at the station. I could not find the paths to the pilots at once, I decided in the river technical school. And he graduated successfully. At the same time he studied at the flying club. Then a military school. In 1939 he appeared in his native Torbeevo as a lieutenant: “Mom, I am a pilot!”
The war found him near Minsk. Already on June 23, Mikhail Devyatayev took part in an air battle. On June 24, he shot down an enemy plane. And a day later he himself came under fire from the Messerschmit and jumped out of the burning donkey (I16 fighter) with a parachute. If he had not shown his resourcefulness, the war and life would have ended for him in this battle near Minsk – “Messerschmitt” turned around to shoot the pilot. Mikhail pulled off the slings and quickly “sausage” rushed to the ground. A hundred meters away, he let the parachute open and escaped. Then he left the burning planes more than once. By the summer of 1944, he had shot down nine enemy aircraft. They knocked him down five times. He was shot in the arm and leg. I was in the hospital. Back on the plane again. For a year and a half due to injuries, he flew in a “maize”, but then achieved a return to the fighter regiment. In 1944, Devyatayev was awarded three military orders.
There is no way to tell about the many interesting combat episodes, about how the war experience was accumulating, how the German pilots gradually lost their dominance in the sky, how they began to be afraid of “yaks”, how mutual combat assistance, audacity, resourcefulness brought victory. But one case must be told. It reveals the character of the pilot Devyatayev. You will feel: everything that happened later, at the finest hour of his life, was natural, was prepared by the whole course of his life.
In the fall of 1943, a seriously wounded general had to be taken out from near Krivoy Rog – only in Moscow could they have performed a complex operation. Three U-2 planes, taking off, did not reach their goal – they did not find a village in the fog or suffered an accident, trying to land on the muddy ground. Devyatayev, who flew fourth, found the village, sat down safely, found the necessary house and found out: the general was sent to Moscow by train four hours ago … Of course, one could return and report everything as it was. Devyatayev acts differently. Having estimated the time and route of passenger carriages infrequent in the front-line region, he flew over the railway and soon saw a train. How to make it stop? “I flew low, almost touching the wheels of the locomotive. I turned aside, wiggled my wings, no, the driver did not understand what the“ maize ”was trying to achieve. I took off again, overtook the train, sat down and ran out onto the canvas again. “
This time the train stopped. In the middle of the steppe, the general was transferred to a plane. By evening he was already in Moscow. He was lying on a stretcher, white, bloodless. He ordered to call the pilot. He came up, put his hand to the helmet. The general asked to get a pistol from the holster. “Lieutenant, take it as a keepsake. As long as I live, I will remember you so much.”
Such an episode … It contains the whole person: a sense of duty, resourcefulness, courage, striving to achieve the goal … In the summer of 1944, Mikhail Devyatayev was again on a fighter plane, fighting in the division of Alexander Pokryshkin.
After battle
July 13 was a turning point in his military destiny. On the eve of the offensive near Lvov, he accompanied the bombers, made three sorties in a day. Already at sunset he rose for the fourth time towards the flying Junkers. He did not notice how the Messerschmitt emerged from behind the cloud … The car seemed to stumble. In the cockpit – smoke, before his eyes – tongues of flame … From the outside, the hopelessness of his position was probably especially clear. “Mordvin, jump!” “Mordvin” is Devyatayev's call sign. “Misha, I order!” Was the voice of his commander … The battle was fought behind the front line. Jumping out of an airplane that was about to explode, Mikhail hit the tail fin and did not remember landing on a parachute. I woke up in a dugout among the pilots. But it’s someone else’s speech … It was a captivity.
At first, they treated him almost like a knight – they bandaged the wound, fed him, did not touch the order. They even seemed to be looked at with respect – they say, we appreciate that. But it turned out that everything was a psychological preparation to persuade one to treason. When Devyatayev said with indignation and with his characteristic directness: “You will not find traitors among the pilots,” the attitude changed. They pounded on the table with their fists, stamped their feet, brought a pistol to their face. Not so much was demanded: the name of the unit, the location, the names of the commanders … He didn't say anything!
In the front-line camp of prisoners of war I met the same as myself. All were captured after forced landings and jumps from wrecked cars. There were wounded, with burnt faces and hands, in burnt clothes. But these were people who had already seen Stalingrad, the Kursk Bulge, liberating Kiev, these were pilots who knew the taste of victory, who drove the German aces into the land. It was impossible to break them.
They were kept separate from the rest of the prisoners. And they were taken to the west not by train, but by transport planes.
Camp captivity began for the pilots. They were placed in a separate barrack. Nearby lay someone's clothes, shoes, children's shirts, chamber pots … We decided to ask the guard: what does this mean? The SS man, grinning, explained with apparent pleasure: “Jewish families lived in the barracks, yesterday everyone … there,” he pointed to the chimney of the crematorium, “made room for you.”
Run! Run at all costs …
Secret base
By the end of 1944, the Nazis began to experience an acute need for labor. The prisoners of Sachsenhausen were examined by doctors and, apparently, they found that some of the exhausted people were fit for work in some other places.
On November 15, half a thousand prisoners were herded into carriages. We drove somewhere for three days. When the cars were opened, more than half of the people were dead.
“Teacher Nikitenko Grigory” (as Devyatayev contrived to designate himself in the camp documents) was among those who were lined up in front of the commandant of the new camp. He said: “Do not think about running away. No one has run away from here and will not run away.”
The prisoners immediately realized that they were close to the sea – seagulls were flying, the damp wind pierced to the bones, forced them to huddle in tight heaps. The robes were removed from the dead – they sewed a lining to their clothes.
And it was clear: the camp was located near an important military base. Once a week, in the evenings, rockets roared into the sky, leaving streaks of light. An airfield was located somewhere nearby.
Three and a half thousand prisoners every morning on the parade ground, shivering in the wind, received an outfit for work.
The most difficult work was the work of the airfield team: they filled up the funnels, carried a batch of cement. But it was precisely this team that the “teacher from Darnitsa” was striving to get all the time. “The roar of the planes, their appearance, their proximity with tremendous force stirred the idea of escape.”
Everyone who worked here understood that there would be no prisoners from this base, everyone would be destroyed. And so they tried to run. One desperate Yugoslav lurked on an island lake. “They caught them. For the edification of everyone, they put the sheepdogs in front of the formation and lowered them. So they didn’t kill them right away, they wrapped a tarp around their neck. I saw many things, but I don’t remember a more terrible picture. And yet I fell asleep and woke up with the thought: run!”
Gradually, the “teacher from Darnitsa” found like-minded people. In fleeting conversations, he cautiously dropped the thought of escape, saying that there was an experienced pilot among the prisoners.
Working at the airfield, now they noticed all the details of his life: when the planes refuel, when the teams leave for lunch, which car is more convenient to capture. We paid attention to the twin-engine Heinkel-111. He flew more often than others. Immediately after landing, he was prepared for a new flight. Near him, more than once cleanly dressed people in civilian clothes congratulated the pilot – apparently, some important tests were successful. “I figured out a plan to seize the car, taxi, take off downhill towards the sea. But will I be able to launch, will I be able to cope with a twin-engine car? By all means, I had to see the instruments in the cockpit, understand how, what, in what sequence it is necessary to turn it on – at the decisive moment the time will count down by seconds. “
During the aerodrome work, the “teacher from Darnitsa” did not miss the opportunity to look at the aircraft dump and there he glared at the instrument panels of the Heinkel-111. The crew of the heavy twin-engine bomber, which Mikhail Devyatayev had previously met only in the air, consisted of six people. The fugitives had to raise him with the forces of one emaciated prisoner. “The main thing is to launch, taxi and take off … The case helped to trace the launch operations. Once we were clearing snow near a caponier, where there was the same as” our “,” Heinkel “. From the shaft I saw in the cockpit. And he noticed mine curiosity. With a grin on his face – look, they say, a Russian onlooker, how easy real people are to cope with this car, – the pilot demonstratively began to show the launch. They brought up, connected a cart with batteries. The pilot showed his finger and let it go straight in front of him. Then the pilot for I deliberately raised my leg to shoulder level and lowered it – one engine started up. Next – the second. The pilot in the cockpit burst out laughing. I, too, could hardly contain my glee – all phases of the Heinkel launch were clear. “
The conspirators now began to discuss a detailed plan for the seizure of the car. It was learned by rote: who will eliminate the watchman (security guard), who will uncover the motors, who will remove the clamps from the flaps … “Everyone understood the degree of risk: the security may raise the alarm; maybe suddenly someone appears at the plane; the car will be without fuel; we will not start the motors ; they can, quickly grabbing, block the take-off runway; they can send fighters after them; unforeseen complications can arise. I myself thought in my mind: the chances are one in a hundred. But we could not retreat. We already got used to the thought: “At lunchtime we slurp gruel , and we have dinner at home, among our own “- and the plane was already called” our “Heinkel”. On February 7, they decided: escape tomorrow or never. “
That day
The day of February 8, 1945 began on the island as usual. “Rockets took off at night. I could not sleep from the roar and from extreme excitement. Early in the morning before the formation, I said to Volodya Sokolov, who was in charge of the airfield team:“ Today! And where you want to get cigarettes. I mortally want to smoke. “Volodya took off his sweater and exchanged five cigarettes for it from the Frenchman.” Building … Selection of teams. Sokolov's task: to make sure that no more than ten people get into the airfield group today, so that everyone is Soviet and everyone is sure to be initiated into escape plans.
We filled up bomb craters. The guard was an SS man. Usually he demanded that a fire be made for him at lunchtime in the caponier, where there was a calm. The work was carried out in such a way that by 12 o'clock we would be at the required caponier.
“At 12:00, the technicians from the planes reached the dining room. A bonfire in the caponier is already burning, and the red-haired watchman, putting his rifle between his knees, warms his hands over the fire. It is two hundred paces to” our “Heinkel”. I push Volodya: “You can't hesitate!” And he suddenly hesitated: “Maybe tomorrow?” I showed my fist and clenched teeth.
Ivan Krivonogov turned out to be decisive. A blow from a piece of iron from behind – and the watchman falls straight into the fire. I look at the guys. Only four of us know what the matter is. The other six have indescribable horror on their faces: the murder of the Vakhtman is a gallows. I explain in a nutshell what the matter is, and I see: mortal fear replaces the determination to act.
From that moment on, ten people had no way to return to their former state – death or freedom. The hands on the watch taken from the watchman's pocket showed 12 hours and 15 minutes. Act! Every second counts.
The tallest Petr Kutergin puts on a guard's overcoat, a hat with a visor. With a rifle, he will lead the “prisoners” in the direction of the plane. “But, without wasting time, Volodya Sokolov and I were already at the Heinkel. At the tail door, I punch a hole with a rod that I had already stored in. I put my hand in and open the lock from the inside.
The interior of the Heinkel looked like a hangar to me, accustomed to the cramped cockpit of a fighter jet. Having made a sign to the guys: “Get on the plane!”, I hasten to get into the pilot's seat. On the faces behind – feverish tension: Hurry!
Vladimir Sokolov and Ivan Krivonogov uncover the motors, remove the clamps from the flaps … The ignition key is in place. Now more like a cart with batteries. The cable is connected. The arrows swung at once. A turn of the key, movement of the foot – and one motor comes to life. Another minute – the screws of the other motor were tightened. Gas is added. Both motors roar. From the side parking lot “Heinkel” taxis to the runway. There is no noticeable alarm on the airfield – everyone is used to it: “Gustav Anton” flies a lot and often. Perhaps only the duty officer with flags at the start is in some confusion – he was not informed about takeoff.
“Starting point. Reached it with a tremendous effort – an aircraft with two propellers is more difficult to control from unaccustomed than a fighter. But everything is in order. The readings of the main instruments, it seems, I understand. Gas … The plane rushed along an inclined line to the sea. Full throttle. … There should be a takeoff, but for some reason the Heinkel is running without taking off, its tail does not come off the concrete … At the last moment, almost at the sea, I brake abruptly and make a U-turn without the hope that the plane will survive. But it was only dust. When it settled down a little, I saw circles from the screws. Whole! But behind my back there was panic, screams, butt blows in the back: “Bear, why not take off? !!”
And the airfield comes to life – everyone who was on the field runs to the plane. Pilots and mechanics run out of the canteen. I give gas. I will scatter everyone who approached the strip. U-turn at the start line. And again the gas … The word “trimmer” flashed in the inflamed brain. Trimmer – movable, with a palm-wide plane on the elevators. Probably, the pilot left her in the “landing” position. But how to find the trimmer control mechanism in three to four seconds? I shake the handle with all my might – to tear the tail off the ground. I shout with all my strength to the guys: “Help!” The three of us are leaning on the lever, and “Heinkel” almost at the very water breaks away from the concrete … Let's fly !!! “
Home!
Trimmer control was found when the plane, diving into the clouds, began to gain altitude. And immediately the car became obedient and light. “At that moment I felt: saved! And I thought: what's going on there now at the base! I looked at my watch. It was 12 hours 36 minutes – everything fit into twenty-one minutes.” We flew north over the sea, and understood that they would be intercepted over land by fighters. Then we flew over the sea to the southeast. Below they saw a caravan of ships. And they saw the planes guarding him. One Messerschmitt turned and made a loop next to the Heinkel. “I saw the pilot's puzzled look: we flew with the landing gear extended.”
The height was about two thousand meters. From the cold and the enormous excitement experienced, the pilot and his passengers in striped clothes did not get a tooth on a tooth. But joy filled my heart. I shouted: “Guys, there is fuel in the tanks – even to Moscow!” Everyone wanted to go straight to Moscow and fly. But I understood: such a flight is impossible, we will become the prey of our fighters and anti-aircraft guns. “
They guessed about the approach of the front from the endless carts, from the columns of cars and tanks. And then smokes appeared, bursts of explosions … Again columns of people and cars. But now, at the sight of the flying Heinkel, people run and lie down from the road. “Our!” This joy was unexpectedly reinforced by dense anti-aircraft fire. Two Heinkel shells overtook. I hear a cry: “Injured!” And I see the right engine smoking. I abruptly throw the plane into a side slip. The smoke disappears. But you have to sit down. Sit down immediately. Below is the muddy, snow-stained ground: the road, the edge of the forest, and beyond it – an acceptable level field. I drop sharply. The unrecovered landing gear will get stuck in the ground It is necessary to cut them off at the time of landing by sliding to the side … “
From the road leading to the front line, the artillerymen of the 61st Army saw a “German” skidding down on the field, breaking the wheels. On the edge of the forest, fearing shooting, the soldiers rushed to the plane. And we at Heinkel were not quite sure that we sat among our own people. The plane's plexiglass nose was damaged. Snow and mud poured into the cockpit. I got out somehow … “Heinkel”, plowing a deep furrow across the field, now seemed like a clumsy fat whale lying on its stomach. The first thing that the newcomers did was try to hide in the forest. Seizing the rifle of the killed watchman and the machine gun from the “Heinkel”, supporting the wounded, they ran a hundred steps across the field, but turned back – there was no strength. Having prepared weapons on the plane, we decided to wait for what would happen.
On the back of my flight card, I wrote who we are, where we fled from, where we lived before the war. I listed the names: Mikhail Devyatayev, Ivan Krivonogov, Vladimir Sokolov, Vladimir Nemchenko, Fedor Adamov, Ivan Oleinik, Mikhail Emets, Peter Kutergin, Nikolai Urbanovich, Dmitry Serdyukov. “
– Fritz! Hyundai hoh! Surrender, otherwise we'll shoot from the cannon! – shouts were heard from the edge of the forest.
For those on the plane, these were very dear words.
– We are not Fritz! We are ours, brothers!
People with machine guns, in sheepskin coats, ran up to the plane, were stunned. Ten skeletons in striped clothes, shod in wooden shoes, splattered with blood and mud, cried, repeating only one word: “Brothers, brothers …” They were carried to the location of the artillery battalion like children, each weighing less than forty kilograms. It was on February 8, 1945.
Forty years is a long time
Of the ten daring and courageous people, time has spared only two – Mikhail Petrovich Devyatayev and Ivan Pavlovich Krivonogov, who now lives in Gorky. Two Volgars meet sometimes, they remember … Devyatayev's life after the war was firmly connected with the Volga. Experienced here now familiar to all “Rocket”, drove between the Volga cities for several years “Meteor”. Now retired. But cheerful – he drives a car and, it seems, could also an airplane. Sixty-seven people. Surrounded by grandchildren. Two sons are doctors, a daughter is a musician. The children grew up not spoiled. They achieved everything in life by diligence and perseverance, just like their father, who appeared barefoot here in Kazan fifty years ago.
His Mordovian Torbeev now houses a museum. The main exhibits in it: a flight helmet, a striped camp uniform, photographs of a fellow countryman, a photograph of an airplane. “I kept my camp clothes together with wooden shoes in a bundle for a long time. But it became a little crowded in the apartment – I took it to my mother. She kept it. “
Was the former prisoner tempted to visit Peenemünde? “I felt drawn! And I was very happy when the government of the GDR invited me to stay with my family … He showed everything to his sons: where were our barracks, from where the missiles were launched, where the plane was. He walked with his sons all the way along the taxiway and the runway to the sea. What did you say to them then? .. He said that on this piece of land surrounded by the sea, he was constantly thinking about the Motherland, and this gave me strength. He also said: there is a way out of any, even the most difficult situation in life. The main thing is not to despair, not to lose a person in yourself ”.
V. PESKOV
“Komsomolskaya Pravda” No. 31 (18235), February 7, 1985
