the body of trucks.
It took more than a day to get to the unrecognizable ruined during military action, but once beautiful, city on the Volga. Neither lack of roads, nor cold and snow drifts could stop them. Medyanik delivered everything to the destination and handed over everything on receipt to the warehouse.
Vasiliy Ivanovich Chuykov personally thanked Ivan Nikiforovich and, having called Suslov, reported that the task was perfectly carried out by Medyanik.
That trip was memorable for our hero for many reasons. But among them was another one – personal. At the ceremonial dinner hosted by Stalingrad defenders Ivan Nikiforovich met and became friends with the man sitting next to him. It was Yevgeniy Parkhomenko, a representative of the General Staff and the son of the legendary hero of the revolution and civil war division commander Alexander Parhomenko.
For half a century, for nearly fifty long years, this friendship lasted, the beginning of which seemed to be specially programmed by His Greatness – The Occasion in the distant wartime of February of 1943 after the fateful and crucial Stalingrad battle.
On that memorable evening, the commander made a toast to the Victory, which everyone who was sitting at the table drank standing. Besides alcohol there were several bottles of vodka on the table the assortment unthinkable in the wartime.
After Stalingrad, the country took the first step towards Berlin. There were still bloody battles along the way, a lot of young and desperate heads, young lives would be devoured by the terrible “Moloch” of the war, but Stalingrad was really a turning point…
Knowing Ivan Nikiforovich for many years, I have never asked him whether he was upset that he did not take part in major military actions, such as Stalingrad, the Dnieper, Kurskaya Douga, the capture of Berlin. He did not leave the autograph on the walls of the defeated Reichstag. Young, strong, brave fighter drove girls crazy who dreamt of the hero on a white horse. It would seem that his portraits should have been replicated by front-line newspapers.
I decided not to ask such questions. In conversations Ivan Nikiforovich himself touched this topic overthrowing all my Maksims with a simple and convincing formula: “A well-secured and well-organized rear is half of success and glory, and, ultimately, Victory”.
After the successful trip to Stalingrad Medyanik returned to Ossetia and immediately received a task from a member of the Military Council to pick up 28 new cars of the famous German brand “Opel” in Nalchik, which were captured as a trophy and move with the advancing Soviet troops to the west.
But how could Stavropol which had become his hometown during his hard service let him go? And it took him under his wing to the former place of the head of the car fleet. The truth is the base was barbarously destroyed, ruined, almost destroyed by the fascists.
And this new task to restore the economy and provide transport for the group of the NKVD troops who were eliminating the remnants of the German detachments in the rear, which had no time to leave the Caucasus, Medyanik did perfectly as he did everything.
Stavropol… The main street of the city is Lenin Street. On this street the Germans built their repair shops. With the offensive of our troops they had left them destroyed, but with the “capital” the price of which Ivan Nikiforovich knew well. And these were trucks, ambulances and cars, motorcycles – altogether over one hundred pieces of equipment. Some turned out to be in order, on the run. The rest were restored. For Medyanik and his team it was a familiar, everyday work, only then accompanied by military reports of the Soviet Information Bureau delivered from Moscow…
The geography of the war gained more and more “steadily western direction”. Medyanik carried the service at his post. His wife, Lyubov Alekseevna, began working as a stenographer at the regional executive committee. Their son Zhenya was growing up. And in 1944 a daughter was born – Lidochka, who in the family was called affectionately – Lyalka, Lyalechka.
And Victory break out!
Joint, long-awaited, won with blood, by sleepless nights, deaths of young and elderly Soviet soldiers, tears of widows and mothers, work in the rear.
Victory is a collective joy, a joint big and holy holiday.
And here is an insult. The insult is not a problem, but it scratches the soul. After the war the new head of the regional department of the Ministry of Internal Affairs arrived in Stavropol. The new broom, as it is known, sweeps clean… They dismissed Ivan Nikiforovich proposing to be the head of the fleet in Astrahan. He chose to stay, only as the head of the production workshops of the MGB and transport, on, so to speak, light duties.
1948 changed his fate. Ivan Nikiforovich was called to Moscow, to one of the ministries, to be transfered to another job.
“Where?”
“Destination – Sverdlovsk.”
Such was the response of the KGB chief of staff.
“I give you first-class coach ticket, they will meet you with impatience.”
“Who will be waiting?” Medyanik could not understand.
“Lieutenant-General Ivan Maksimovich Tkachenko.”
His heart was filled with warmth, the soul calmed down. He knew Ivan Maksimovich during wartime in the Caucasus. He was then in the rank of a colonel. And he held the post of representative of the Southern Group of Forces under the Reserve of the Main Command. It was under his leadership that the German agents were liquidated. And just in the first-class coach of the train going to the Urals Medyanik remembered the time that had tied his fate with the fate of Tkachenko.
While in Ordzhonikidze, Ivan Nikiforovich was ordered to deliver a group of a small detachment under Malgobek where German saboteurs savaged.
Then two Ivans, two warriors, two brave and courageous men, who did not fear the evil enemy, got together. When the German paratroopers were surrounded, Medyanik and Tkachenko walked alongside. They climbed a hillock, already naked in autumn, to look around and right there came the cracking of German machine guns. Without hesitation Ivan Nikiforovich fell to the ground and carried Tkachenko with him. And then, raising their heads, they saw there were new bursts from the next machine-gun fire at the place where they had just been standing.
Fractions of a second separated them from inevitable death.
These fractions of a second had bound forever their friendship born under deadly fire. Ivan Maksimovich never forgot that it was Medyanik who had saved his life.
And now they met again where the atomic saga in the life of Ivan Nikiforovich Medyanik began: the Kyshtym station, the secret “Mayak”, Chelyabinsk-40, Chelyabinsk-70, a deadly raid with Plutonium obtained in Dollezhal's laboratory, Semipalatinsk, terrible pictures of destruction as the result of the test of the first Soviet atomic bomb…
At that time, no one really knew the consequences of radiation, except, naturally, of scientists involved in this problem.
Did people die? Died. The way Igor Vasilyevich Kurchatov perished, the way Ivan Maksimovich Tkachenko, a remarkable friend of Medyanik, also perished in 1953. The way Academician Alikhanov died, buried at the Novodevichy cemetery next to the brilliant physicist Landau, whose life was interrupted by a car accident…
“But Khariton, Zeldovich, Alexandrov, Slavsky, and some more, have lived for much more than ninety years. I myself is over a century. Dollezhal lived over a century. As for me, the doctors are still wondering how I managed to live and work with such doses of radiation. This means that not all the resources of the human
