They collected twelve Pullman cars. Whole train! He was given a “green” light as a special train number 21.
The delegation of ten people for the delivery of aid to the capital was headed by the secretary of the regional committee of the party Vladimir Vasilyevich Vorontsov. And I was fully responsible for the entire train, for its movement, for the safety of the cargo.
So many thrilling moments come to mind! These were terrible bombings, each of which could turn out to be tragic, as, for example, in Lipetsk. We were taken to the second track. This was a violation of the charter for the movement of special trains, which, by Stalin's order, should have always be taken only on the first track and provided with a “green” traffic light.
But what was then going on at the stations!.. The railway stations were overcrowded with people who, in a panic, were moving from the advancing Germans literally in opposite directions… Getting into any train was, as they say, “a fight”. Shell burst, blood, crying children, women screams. And in this inconceivable confusion the almost mad station master, where we were taken to the second track, was trying to preserve at least some order… He was almost torn to pieces by mad with fear passengers, military commanders, chiefs of sanitary trains who had to rescue people came directly in time of bombing.
And when our people burned trains standing on the tracks so that the Germans would not get them?
Everyone had good reasons. Because there was a legitimate reason – the war. And so. My assistant did not get reception of the Lipetsk station chief. He was simply not allowed to him. I had to take control. Later, it sometimes seemed to me that the top priority of our special train was just as important, as any human grief. And a woman, for example, saving orphans from the occupied regions, also needed a special train.
But such thoughts, I repeat, were later. But at that time I made so much effort, so much artistic invention unexpectedly taken from somewhere, that I was amazed for myself. I even overstated my military rank to a lieutenant colonel. Well, in case of non-compliance, I even threatened to use weapons. The train was urgently sent and immediately after its departure German planes raided the station. Bombs fell on the track where our special train stood a few minutes before… So if it were not for my vigour,” Ivan Nikiforovich waved his hand, as if chasing away memories.
From Moscow there was still a way to Volokolamsk. The Dovator’s corps was located there.
I will not speak much about the condition of our horseman-fighters. They simply could not believe their eyes that such necessary help came from their native Stavropol. That this help reached, that they could not look back at the last bullet again, that they could warmly dress up, that they could eat enough.
It was a joy! Great! And on the part of our team, which provided the load, and on the part of those who expected help.
And these hunger bitten people, exhausted by malnutrition, colds, the need to fight in the rear of the enemy, these people tried to dandle me in their arms – as an artist or a winner.
I quickly fought off such an expression of jubilation. I, well-fed and dressed young man of unusual height, as you know, had to experience a feeling of unsolicited and burning guilt in front of them. Although I understood that my participation in their fate was not the last one, that I also served and also fought in my place.
We stayed for a week with the Dovatortsy. Even Kalinin came, Mikhail Ivanovich, “All-Union headman”. We photographed for the memory.
Well, and when they came back to Stavropol, we brought bags of letters of gratitude from Dovatortsy, all of them were neatly delivered to the Committee of Defense, and the radio, and the newspapers were publishing this news from the front for a long time.
V. V. Vorontsov made a report on the trip at the meeting of the Regional Committee of Defense, and was there awarded to the Order Badge of Honor. I also got the medal For Military Merit.
But Germans were approaching the cities of Mineralnye Vody and Stavropol. And there I had to show my skills: there were more than a hundred and fifty trips to Nevinnomyssk in which the whole regional committee of the regional administration, the autotechnical department, repair crews and officer families were evacuated.
I myself was the last to leave because I had to blow up my own car fleet, stores of combustive-lubricating materials. But I was unable to complete the assigned task because there were still a few families left on the territory. I left by a miracle when Germans were already in the city, and Victor Fateev took me away on a motorcycle. He was the secretary of the Komsomol organization of the autotechnical department. I found my special squadron in Nevinnomyssk.
And then in Georgievsk an order came to go to Ordzhonikidze with a special squadron. It was the end of August. The chief of the border units read out Stalin's order that the Reserve of General Command would be formed out of all the retreating border units and units of the internal troops. But then events developed rapidly.”
“All this is described in detail by Alexander Mosintsev.
I think he would not mind if we refer to his authorship: “Ivan Nikiforovich's auto-battalion was included in the RGC. Immediately an order was received to prepare fifteen trucks for sending a newly formed mountain squad to Tyrnyauz.
In Nalchik, they had to be completed with warm uniforms and ammunition. In Tyrnyauz the detachment dismounted and went to the mountains. And the cars were supposed to return to Ordzhonikidze. However, Medyanik did not wait till their return. Only a month later in November, the drivers said that eight cars had been taken by some military unit that had come down from the mountains.
By this time, the Medyanik auto battalion had already been transferred to Kizlyar.
And the drivers had a difficult journey to Kizlyar. They and the guide Boris Tsogoev, who knew the roads of Ossetia and Kabarda, had to get to Kizlyar without food and weapons. They ate whatever they could find. It was a good thing they managed to get. The auto battalion delivered fighters of the Reserve of General Command to the front, took out the wounded and killed to the rear. Day and night the wheels were turning next to Malgobek, Elkhotovo, Ordzhonikidze, where fierce fighting took place.
At the beginning of November 1942, the snow had not yet fallen in Ordzhonikidze, it often drizzled like in autumn. The roads turned into slush under soldiers' boots and equipment.
Medyanik had just come to the apartment that he had rented near the headquarters of the RGC as the adjutant of the commander called, “Are you sleeping? Urgent call from the general.”
It was half past eleven which meant it was something very important. Cursing while walking through the puddles, Ivan Nikiforovich returned to headquarters.
In addition to him, in the office of Maslennikov there silently sat the chief of staff, an unfamiliar colonel and a civilian – an unshaven man in a suit smeared with mud.
Ivan Nikiforovich reported on his arrival.
“Sit down,” the general nodded. “Here, listen to what comrade will tell.”
The civilian did not keep himself waiting. Somewhere near Malgobek his retreating medical battalion got stuck in a ravine. Gasoline and food ran out and there were fifty wounded soldiers in nine cars. Two, according to the stranger, have already died and, perhaps, some more while he was somehow trying to reach the city. In addition, in order to cut off the road to the medical battalion, Germans threw out the paratroopers. There is no one to defend just three paramedics and he, a refugee, joined the battalion.
“People need urgently to be rescued, battalion commander,” the commander ordered. “Take trucks, combatants, gas, and go now.”
Ivan
