Yulian SEMENOV, Vl. TOKAREV. SEVENTEEN MOMENTS OF SPRING
A play in two parts
New edition
CHARACTERS
STIRLITZ - political intelligence officer, 50 years old
SHELLENBERG - chief of political intelligence, 34 years old
MUELLER - Gestapo chief, 62 years old
HOLTOFF - Gestapo officer, 30 years old
SCHLAG - pastor, 65 years old
KET - radio operator, 25 years old
GRETA DORF - Gestapo officer, 30 years old
In episodes:
HELMUT - SS soldier, 50 years old
SCHOLZ - Müller's adjutant, 35 years old
FIRST SCHUTZMAN - 25 years
SECOND SCHUTZMAN - 50 years old
BARBARA - SS non-commissioned officer, 19 years old
NURSE - 50–60 years old
LADY WITH A STROLLER - over 60 years old
The action takes place in Germany at the very end of the war.
PART ONE
The start of the performance is still far away, but throughout the theater - in the hall, in the foyer, in the buffet, on the coat rack and even in the box office lobby - unshakably optimistic military marches are heard incessantly. When the third bell rings and the last late-arriving spectators begin to frantically look for their seats in the dimly lit hall, the music stops and the velvety announcer's voice, having previously announced the exact Berlin time, reads the latest report from the front.
VOICE ON RADIO. Attention! Berlin time is twenty two hours. Listen to the Fuhrer Headquarters report from March 25, 1945. Trying to hold temporarily captured lines, the Bolshevik hordes suffer enormous losses. Our valiant troops, repelling the fierce attacks of the enemy, captured huge trophies. The ongoing stubborn battles in the Baltic states are helping our command stabilize the defense line in preparation for a massive attack on the central front. In the West, our valiant troops are firmly holding the line and are preparing to deliver a decisive blow to the Anglo-American positions. The glorious aces of Reichsmarschall Goering are conducting victorious battles with enemy aircraft. Seventy-six enemy aircraft were shot down. Our losses are seven aircraft. The resistance of the entire German people, loyal to their Fuhrer, is growing day by day, approaching the hour of our final victory...
(Cutting off the announcer mid-sentence, a siren will burst into the hall - an air raid signal. For several seconds there will be complete darkness. When the spotlights come on again, we will see many people. Military and civilians, men and women, will slowly walk along the proscenium and go down into the orchestra pit .These are employees of the Reich Security Department calmly and orderly (a habitual thing) marching into the bomb shelter. From the opposite wing, towards the general movement, two are walking - the chief of political intelligence of the Reich, the handsome thirty-four-year-old Brigadefuehrer SCHELLENBERG in a smart general's uniform, and Gruppenfuehrer STIRLITZ (a graying fifty-year-old man, in our opinion, a colonel). They are almost confronted by an overweight, shortness of breath old man - Gestapo chief MUELLER. Mutual greetings “Heil Hitler!”)
MUELLER. Glad to see you, friends! Are we escaping to the bunker?
SHELLENBERG. There is no time to save ourselves - who will then work for Stirlitz and me?
MUELLER. Are you planning another deceit?
STIRLITZ (grumpily). Deceit?! We are babies compared to you.
MUELLER. This is with me! Lord, I’m an old, kind, harmless person. You don't understand people well, Stirlitz. For a scout this is unforgivable. (Having a friendly pat on the shoulders of Schellenberg and Stirlitz, Muller leaves.)
STIRLITZ. Over the years, he loses the remnants of his sense of humor.
SHELLENBERG. A Gestapo chief without a sense of humor is unbearable for those around him?..
(Schellenberg’s office appears. Bombing. Heavy bombs can be heard landing nearby. Pause.)
I love it when they bomb. Helps you concentrate.
STIRLITZ (grumbles). I don’t know... To die when things are coming to an end is stupid.
SHELLENBERG. These bastard generals still justify our defeats in the East by the conditions of the Russian winter. Time for yourself - why, you ask?
STIRLITZ. Let them try to tell the truth.
SHELLENBERG. And that's true. How's Runge? Perhaps you did the right thing by taking him to our department. Müller only works with bone breakers, but this is a delicate matter. Have you figured out all these new trends in physics?
STIRLITZ. What interests me most is whether it is possible to stop the process of stupidity using physical chemistry. It has become difficult to work - there are so many idiots who say the right words.
SHELLENBERG. Listen, Stirlitz, I am, after all, the chief of political intelligence. Are you not at all afraid of me if you allow yourself to loosen your tongue like that?
STIRLITZ (after thinking). Brigadefuehrer, thousands of strong, skilled, blind people serve you. They are devoted to you to the last drop of blood, but... It seems to me that you need at least a few sighted assistants.
SHELLENBERG. Besides me, Mueller operates in this house. Look, be careful. However, Mueller will not arrest you, you know too much. He will bury you with music after a car accident.
STIRLITZ. I would prefer to order a wreath for his grave.
SHELLENBERG. Me too... So what about Runge?
STIRLITZ. Difficult. I'm almost sure there are connections coming from him. After all, he studied and worked overseas. And I had no doubt that there was a conspiracy of scientists to prevent the Reich from quickly solving the problem of retaliatory weapons.
SHELLENBERG. A conspiracy of intellectuals... Naturally!
STIRLITZ. This conspiracy can only be revealed with the help of physicists themselves. Now I'm trying...
SHELLENBERG (not listening). Yes, it is clear that the problem of technical superiority is becoming a defining moment in the history of the world. Scientists seem to have already understood this. Queue for politicians. (Suddenly.) How are things with the pastor?
STIRLITZ. Nothing interesting.
SHELLENBERG. What about more details?
STIRLITZ. Arrested, as you know, in the summer of 1944. Apart from my sister and two children, there are no relatives. Accused of anti-state activities - in his sermons he condemned the barbarity of war and the irrationality of bloodshed. In '30 and '32 he traveled to England and Switzerland to participate in the pacifist congress.
STIRLITZ. He does not deny that before we came to power he had developed friendly relations with the former Chancellor Brüning. Bruening now lives in exile in Switzerland. There is no evidence that his relationship with the pastor continues. You can believe me - the pastor is an empty number.
SHELLENBERG. How does he behave during interrogations?
STIRLITZ. Quite independent, and does not hide the fact that he does not agree with us on everything. I even like such people.
SHELLENBERG. Me too. What if you let him go?
STIRLITZ. Logical. Is it worth once again spoiling relations with the church?.. I haven’t finished reporting on the physicists’ case. This Runge...
SHELLENBERG. That's it, Stirlitz, get the physicists out of your head, this is really an empty number. We are late with physics - seriously and forever. Now the main thing for us is Pastor Schlag.
STIRLITZ (dissatisfied). Before I had time to return from Krakow, you switched me to identifying a strategic transmitter working for Moscow, damn it! As soon as I got into the swing of things, these physicists were handed to me - go figure! Now a pastor. Of course, an order is an order, but I like to finish what I start.
SHELLENBERG (turned on the radio. After a pause). The Russian armies, Stirlitz, dug in on the Oder. In Europe, the Allied armies are moving forward as if in maneuvers. Do you like the “unconditional surrender” formula? I don't. Now listen carefully - our people recently got hold of this in London. (Reading.) “A terrible catastrophe would have occurred if Russian barbarism had destroyed the culture and independence of the ancient European states...” Churchill wrote this back in 1942, when the Russians were not on the Oder, but at Stalingrad. Do you think Churchill thinks differently now?
(STIRLITS is silent.)
Now, when there is a real threat that half of Europe will fall under the influence of communists, the Anglo-American allies will enter into separate negotiations. For them this is the only way out. Even more so for us.
STIRLITZ. Has the Fuhrer rescinded his order that any attempt to negotiate peace would be punishable by death? If I'm not mistaken...
SHELLENBERG. You are wrong. Why do you sometimes try to be like a martinet, Stirlitz? You yourself said that I already have enough blind assistants.
STIRLITZ. I sometimes get lost when talking to you...
SHELLENBERG (listening). I think they're flying away? Or not?
STIRLITZ. They fly away to take a new supply of bombs.
SHELLENBERG. No, these guys will now have fun at their bases. They have enough planes to bomb us continuously... (After a pause.) I believe you, Stirlitz. Absolutely. I hope it's mutual? So, about the pastor. He is a prominent pacifist and is well known in the West. It would be stupid, unforgivably stupid, if we didn’t use his connections. Through his friends in Switzerland, he can easily contact representatives of the Anglo-American coalition...
Current page: 1 (book has 19 pages total) [available reading passage: 11 pages]
SEVENTEEN MOMENTS OF SPRING
"WHO IS WHO?"
At first, Stirlitz didn’t believe himself: a nightingale was singing in the garden. The air was cold, bluish, and, although the tones all around were spring, February, cautious, the snow still lay dense and without that inner, timid blue that always precedes the night melting.
A nightingale sang in a hazel tree that went down to the river, near an oak grove. The mighty trunks of the old trees were black; The park smelled of fresh frozen fish. The strong smell of last year's birch and oak prey that accompanies spring was not yet there, but the nightingale was singing with all its might - clicking, scattering with a trill, brittle and defenseless in this black, quiet park.
Stirlitz remembered his grandfather: the old man knew how to talk to birds. He sat under a tree, lured the tit and looked at the bird for a long time, and his eyes also became like a bird’s - fast, black beads, and the birds were not at all afraid of him.
“Ping-ping-ping!” - the grandfather whistled.
And the tits answered him - confidentially and cheerfully.
The sun had gone, and the black trunks of the trees fell onto the white snow with violet, even shadows.
“He’ll freeze, poor thing,” Stirlitz thought and, wrapping his overcoat around him, returned to the house. “And there is no way to help: only one bird does not trust people - the nightingale.”
Stirlitz looked at his watch.
“Klaus will come now,” thought Stirlitz. - He is always accurate. I myself asked him to walk from the station through the forest so as not to meet anyone. Nothing. I'll wait. There is such beauty here..."
Stirlitz always received this agent here, in a small mansion on the shore of the lake - his most comfortable safe house. For three months he persuaded SS Obergruppenführer Pohl to give him money to purchase a villa from the children of the Opera dancers who died in the bombing. The children asked a lot, and Paul, who was responsible for the economic policy of the SS and SD, categorically refused Stirlitz. “You’re crazy,” he said, “take off something more modest.” Where does this craving for luxury come from? We can't throw money left and right! It is dishonorable to a nation bearing the burden of war.”
Stirlitz had to bring his boss here - the head of political intelligence of the security service. Thirty-four-year-old SS Brigadeführer Walter Schellenberg immediately realized that it was impossible to find a better place for conversations with serious agents. A deed of sale was made through dummies, and a certain Bolzen, the chief engineer of the “Robert Ley Chemical People's Enterprise,” received the right to use the villa. He hired a watchman for a high salary and good rations. Bolsen was SS Standartenführer von Stirlitz.
...Having finished setting the table, Stirlitz turned on the receiver. London broadcast cheerful music. The orchestra of American Glen Miller played a composition from “Sun Valley Serenade”. Himmler liked this film, and one copy was purchased in Sweden. Since then, the tape was watched quite often in the basement on Prinz Albrechtstrasse, especially during night bombings, when it was impossible to interrogate those arrested.
Stirlitz called the watchman and when he arrived, he said:
- Buddy, today you can go to the city, to the children. Tomorrow, be back by six in the morning and, if I haven’t left yet, make me strong coffee, the strongest you can...
12.2.1945 (18 hours 38 minutes)
“What do you think, pastor, what is more in a person - a person or an animal?
– I think that a person has equal amounts of both.
- That's impossible.
- It can only be so.
“Otherwise, one thing would have won long ago.”
– You reproach us for appealing to the base, considering the spiritual to be secondary. The spiritual is truly secondary. The spiritual grows like a fungus on the basic leaven.
- And this leaven?
- Ambition. This is what you call lust, and what I call a healthy desire to sleep with a woman and love her. This is a healthy desire to be the first in your business. Without these aspirations, all human development would cease. The Church has put a lot of effort into slowing down the development of humanity. Do you remember what period of church history I'm talking about?
– Yes, yes, of course, I know this period. I know this period very well, but I also know something else. I stop seeing the difference between your attitude towards people and the one that the Fuhrer preaches.
- Yes. He sees in man an ambitious beast. Healthy, strong, wanting to win her living space.
“You can’t imagine how wrong you are, because the Fuhrer sees in every German not just a beast, but a blond beast.”
– And you see in every person a beast in general.
“And I see in every person what he came from.” And man came out of the monkey. And a monkey is an animal.
– This is where we disagree. You believe that man descended from the ape; you did not see the monkey from which he came, and this monkey did not say anything in your ear on this topic. You haven't felt it, you can't feel it. And believe it because this belief corresponds to your spiritual organization.
– Did God tell you in your ear that he created man?
- Of course, no one told me anything, and I cannot prove the existence of God - it is unprovable, you can only believe in it. You believe in a monkey, but I believe in God. You believe in the monkey because it suits your spiritual organization; I believe in God because it suits my spiritual organization.
– Here you are a little rigged. I don't believe in the monkey. I believe in man.
-Which came from a monkey. You believe in the monkey in man. And I believe in God in man.
- And God, is he in every person?
- Of course.
– Where is he in the Fuhrer? In Goering? Where is he in Himmler?
– You are asking a difficult question. We are talking to you about human nature. Of course, in each of these scoundrels one can find traces of a fallen angel. But, unfortunately, their entire nature has become so subject to the laws of cruelty, necessity, lies, meanness, and violence that there is practically nothing human left there. But in principle I do not believe that a person born into the world necessarily carries within himself the curse of ape origin.
– Why is the “curse” of monkey origin?
– I speak my language.
- So, we need to adopt a divine law to exterminate monkeys?
- Well, why so...
– You always morally avoid answering the questions that torment me. You don't give a yes or no answer, but every person who seeks faith loves concreteness, and he loves one yes or one no. You have “no”, “no”, “most likely not” and other phraseological shades of “yes”. This is precisely what deeply, if you like, repels me not so much from your method as from your practice.
– You are hostile to my practice. I see... And yet you came running from the concentration camp to me. How to connect this?
– This once again demonstrates that in every person, as you say, there is both the divine and the simian. If only the divine were present in me, I would not have turned to you. I would not run away, but would accept death from the SS executioners, would turn the other cheek to them in order to awaken the man in them. Now, if you had to get to them, I wonder, would you turn your other cheek or try to avoid the blow?
– What does it mean to turn the other cheek? You are again projecting a symbolic parable onto the real machine of the Nazi state. It's one thing to turn the cheek in a parable. As I already told you, this is a parable of the human conscience. It’s another thing to get into a car that doesn’t ask you whether you’re turning the other cheek or not. To get into a car, which, in principle, in its idea, is devoid of conscience... Of course, there is no point in communicating with a car, or with a stone on the road, or with a wall that you bump into the way you communicate with another being.
“Pastor, I’m embarrassed, maybe I’m touching on your secret, but... Were you in the Gestapo at one time?”
- Well, what can I tell you? I was there…
- It's clear. You do not want to touch on this story, because this is a very painful issue for you. Don’t you think, pastor, that after the end of the war your parishioners will not believe you?
– You never know who was in the Gestapo.
– What if they whisper to the congregation that the pastor, as a provocateur, was placed in cells with other prisoners who did not return? And those who returned like you are a few out of millions... The flock will not really believe you... To whom will you then preach your truth?
– Of course, if you use similar methods on a person, you can destroy anyone. In this case, it is unlikely that I will be able to correct anything in my situation.
- And then what?
- Then? Refute this. I refute as much as I can, refute as long as people listen to me. When they don’t listen, you die internally.
- Internally. So, will you remain a living, fleshly person?
- The Lord judges. I'll stay like this.
– Is your religion against suicide?
“That’s why I won’t commit suicide.”
– What will you do, deprived of the opportunity to preach?
– I will believe without preaching.
– Why don’t you see another way out for yourself – to work together with everyone else?
– What do you call “working”?
– Carrying stones in order to build temples of science, at least.
– If a person who graduated from the Faculty of Theology is needed by society only to carry stones, then I have nothing to talk to you about. Then it’s really better for me to return to the concentration camp now and burn in the crematorium there...
– I just pose the question: what if? I'm interested in hearing your speculative view—focusing your thoughts forward, so to speak.
– Do you think that a person who addresses his flock with a spiritual sermon is a slacker and a charlatan? Don't you consider this work? Your work is carrying stones, but I believe that spiritual work is, to say the least, equal to any other work - spiritual work is especially important.
“I am a journalist by profession, and my correspondence was ostracized by both the Nazis and the Orthodox Church.
“They were condemned by the orthodox church for the simple reason that you misinterpreted the man himself.”
“I didn’t interpret the person.” I showed the world of thieves and prostitutes who lived in the catacombs of Bremen and Hamburg. The Hitlerite state called it a vile slander against a superior race, and the church called it a slander against man.
– We are not afraid of the truth of life.
- Be afraid! I showed how these people tried to come to church and how the church pushed them away; it was the flock that pushed them away, and the pastor could not go against the flock.
- Of course, I couldn’t. I don't blame you for telling the truth. I do not condemn you because you showed the truth. I disagree with you in my predictions for the future of man.
– Don’t you think that in your answers you are not a shepherd, but a politician?
“You just see in me only what fits into you.” You see in me a political contour that constitutes only one plane. In the same way as you can see in a slide rule an object for hammering nails. You can hammer a nail with a slide rule; it has a length and a known mass. But this is the same option in which you see the tenth, twentieth function of an object, while with the help of a ruler you can count, and not just hammer nails.
– Pastor, I ask a question, and without answering, you hammer nails into me. You somehow very cleverly turn me from a questioner into an answerer. You somehow immediately turn me from a seeker into a heretic. Why do you say that you are above the fray when you are also in the fray?
“It’s true: I’m in a fight, and I’m really in a war, but I’m at war with the war itself.”
– You argue very materialistically.
– I’m arguing with a materialist.
- So you can fight me with my weapons?
– I am forced to do this.
– Listen... For the good of your flock, I need you to contact my friends. I'll give you the address. I will entrust you with the address of my comrades... Pastor, you will not betray the innocent..."
Stirlitz finished listening to this tape recording, quickly got up and went to the window so as not to meet the gaze of the one who yesterday asked the pastor for help, and now was grinning, listening to his voice, drinking cognac and smoking greedily.
– Was the pastor’s smoking problem bad? – Stirlitz asked without turning around.
He stood at the window - a huge one, covering the entire wall - and watched how the crows fought in the snow over bread: the local watchman received a double ration and was very fond of birds. The watchman did not know that Stirlitz was from the SD, and was firmly convinced that the cottage belonged either to homosexuals or to trade tycoons: not a single woman had ever come here, and when men gathered, their conversations were quiet, the food was exquisite and first-class , most often American, drink.
- Yes, I suffered there without smoking... The old man is a talker, but I wanted to hang myself without tobacco...
The agent's name was Klaus. He was recruited two years ago. He went to the recruitment himself: the former proofreader wanted a thrill. He worked artistically, disarming his interlocutors with sincerity and harshness of judgment. He was allowed to say everything, as long as the work was effective and fast. Looking closely at Klaus, Stirlitz experienced an increasing sense of fear every day they met.
“Or maybe he’s sick? – Stirlitz once thought. – The thirst for betrayal is also a kind of disease. Interesting. Klaus completely beats Lombroso 1
Lombroso Cesare (1835 - 1909) - Italian psychiatrist and criminologist, founder of the anthropological trend in bourgeois criminal law.
“He is more terrible than all the criminals I have seen, and how handsome and sweet...”
Stirlitz returned to the table, sat down opposite Klaus, and smiled at him.
- Well? - he asked. - So, you are convinced that the old man will establish a connection with you?
- Yes, this issue is resolved. I like most to work with intellectuals and priests. You know, it’s amazing to watch a person go to his death. Sometimes I even wanted to say to someone else: “Stop! Fool! Where?!"
“Well, it’s not worth it,” said Stirlitz. - It would be unwise.
– Don’t you have any canned fish? I'm going crazy without fish. Phosphorus, you know. Requires nerve cells...
- I'll cook you some good canned fish. Which ones do you want?
- I love it in oil...
– I understand that... What manufacturer? Ours or...
“Or,” Klaus laughed. – Even if it’s unpatriotic, I really love food and drink made in America or France...
“I’ll prepare a box of real French sardines for you.” They are in olive oil, very spicy... A lot of phosphorus... You know, I looked at your dossier yesterday...
“I would give a lot to look at him with even one eye...
– This is not as interesting as it seems... When you talk, laugh, complain about pain in the liver - this is impressive, considering that before that you performed a puzzling operation... But your dossier is boring: reports, reports. Everything is mixed up: your denunciations, denunciations against you... No, this is not interesting... Another thing is interesting: I calculated that, according to your reports, thanks to your initiative, ninety-seven people were arrested... And all of them were silent about you. All without exception. And the Gestapo treated them quite famously...
– Why are you telling me about this?
– I don’t know... I’m trying to analyze it or something... Did it hurt you when the people who gave you shelter were later taken away?
- And what do you think?
- I don't know.
- The devil will understand... I apparently felt strong when I entered into single combat with them. I was interested in the fight... I don’t know what will happen to them later... What will happen to us then? With everyone?
“That’s also true,” Stirlitz agreed.
- After us - even a flood. And then, our people: cowardice, baseness, greed, denunciations. In everyone, simply in everyone. You cannot be free among slaves... This is true. So isn't it better to be the freest among slaves? All these years I have enjoyed complete spiritual freedom...
Stirlitz asked:
- Listen, who came to the pastor the night before yesterday?
- Nobody…
- Around nine...
“You’re mistaken,” Klaus replied, “in any case, no one came from you, I was there all alone.”
- Maybe it was a parishioner? My people couldn't see the faces.
-Did you watch his house?
- Certainly. All the time... So you are convinced that the old man will work for you?
- Will. In general, I feel within myself the calling of an oppositionist, a tribune, a leader. People submit to my pressure and logic of thinking...
- OK. Well done, Klaus. Just don't brag too much. Now about business... You will live in our apartment alone for several days... Because after that you will have serious work, and not in my part...
Stirlitz spoke the truth. Colleagues from the Gestapo today asked to give them Klaus for a week: two Russian “pianists” were captured in Cologne. They were caught at work, right next to the radio. They were silent; a good person needed to be placed with them. You won't find a better person than Klaus. Stirlitz promised to find Klaus.
“Take a sheet of paper from the gray folder,” said Stirlitz, “and write the following: “Standartenführer! I'm dead tired. My strength is running out. I worked honestly, but I can't do anymore. I want a rest..."
- Why is this? – Klaus asked, signing the letter.
“I think it wouldn’t hurt you to go to Innsbruck for a week,” Stirlitz replied, handing him a wad of money. – There are casinos there, and young skiers still ski from the mountains. Without this letter, I will not be able to give you a week of happiness.
“Thank you,” said Klaus, “but I have a lot of money...
- Can't hurt anymore, huh? Or will it interfere?
“Well, actually, it won’t hurt,” Klaus agreed, hiding the money in the back pocket of his trousers. – Now they say gonorrhea is quite expensive to treat...
– Remember again: no one saw you at the pastor’s?
- There’s nothing to remember - no one...
– I mean our people too.
“Actually, your people could have seen me if they were watching this old man’s house.” And that’s unlikely... I didn’t see anyone...
Stirlitz remembered how a week ago he himself dressed him in convict clothes, before staging a performance with prisoners being driven through the village in which Pastor Schlag now lived. He remembered Klaus's face then, a week ago: his eyes shone with kindness and courage - he had already entered into the role that he had to play. Then Stirlitz spoke to him differently, because the saint was sitting in the car next to him - his face was so beautiful, his voice was mournful and the words he uttered were so precise.
“We will drop this letter on the way to your new apartment,” said Stirlitz. - And write one more for the pastor, so that there is no suspicion. Try writing this yourself. I won't bother you, I'll make some more coffee.
When he returned, Klaus was holding a piece of paper.
“Honesty implies action,” he began to read, chuckling, “faith is based on struggle.” Preaching honesty with complete inaction is a betrayal: both of the flock and of oneself. A person can forgive himself for dishonesty, but his offspring can never forgive him. Therefore, I cannot forgive myself for inaction. Inaction is worse than betrayal. I'm leaving. Justify yourself - God help you." So how? Nothing?
- Dashing. Have you tried writing prose? Or poetry?
- No. If I could write, would I… - Klaus suddenly stopped himself and glanced furtively at Stirlitz.
- Continue, weirdo. We are talking to you openly. You wanted to say: if you knew how to write, would you work for us?
- Something like that.
“Not like that,” Stirlitz corrected him, “but that’s exactly what you wanted to say.” No?
- Well done. What reason do you have for lying to me? Drink some whiskey and let’s get going, it’s already dark, and soon, apparently, the Yankees will arrive.
- Is the apartment far away?
- In the forest, about ten kilometers. It's quiet there, sleep until tomorrow...
Already in the car, Stirlitz asked:
– Was he silent about the former chancellor Brüning?
– I told you about this – I immediately closed in on myself. I was afraid to press him...
– They did the right thing... And he was also silent about Switzerland?
- Tightly.
- OK. Let's get to the other end. It is important that he agreed to help the communist. Hey yes pastor!
Stirlitz killed Klaus with a shot to the temple. They stood on the shore of the lake. There was a restricted area here, but the security post - Stirlitz knew this for sure - was two kilometers away, the raid had already begun, and during the raid the pistol shot was not heard. He calculated that Klaus would fall from the concrete platform - they used to fish from here - straight into the water.
Klaus fell into the water silently, like a sack. Stirlitz threw a pistol into the place where he fell (the version of suicide due to nervous exhaustion was precisely built, the letters were sent by Klaus himself), took off his gloves and walked through the forest to his car. The village where Pastor Schlag lived was forty kilometers away. Stirlitz calculated that he would be with him in an hour - he foresaw everything, even the possibility of presenting an alibi based on time...
12.2.1945 (19 hours 56 minutes)
(From the party description of the NSDAP member from 1930, SS Gruppenführer Kruger: “A true Aryan, devoted to the Fuhrer. Character - Nordic, firm. With friends - even and sociable; merciless towards the enemies of the Reich. An excellent family man; had no connections that discredited him. In In his work he has proven himself to be an indispensable master of his craft...”)
After the Russians broke into Krakow in January 1945 and the city, so thoroughly mined, remained intact, the head of the Reich Security Office, Kaltenbrunner, ordered the chief of the eastern department of the Gestapo, Kruger, to be brought to him.
Kaltenbrunner was silent for a long time, looking closely at the heavy, massive face of the general, and then very quietly asked:
- Do you have any justification - objective enough for the Fuhrer to believe you?
The manly, seemingly simple-minded Kruger was waiting for this question. He was ready for an answer. But he had to play a whole range of feelings: during his fifteen years in the SS and in the Party, he learned to act. He knew that he couldn’t answer right away, just as he couldn’t completely dispute his guilt. Even at home, he found himself becoming a completely different person. At first, he still occasionally spoke to his wife, and then in a whisper, at night, but with the development of special technology, and he, like no one else, knew its successes, he stopped altogether saying out loud what he sometimes allowed himself to think. Even in the forest, walking with his wife, he was silent or talked about trifles, because the RSHA could at any moment invent a device capable of recording a voice at a distance of a kilometer or more.
So gradually the old Kruger disappeared; Instead of him, in the shell of a person familiar to everyone and outwardly not changed at all, there was another, created by the former, completely unknown to anyone, general, who was afraid not only to tell the truth, no, he was afraid to allow himself to think the truth.
“No,” Kruger answered, frowning, suppressing a sigh, very feelingly and heavily, “I don’t have a sufficient excuse... And there can’t be.” I am a soldier, war is war, and I don’t expect any favors for myself.
He played for sure. He knew that the harsher he was with himself, the fewer weapons he would leave in Kaltenbrunner's hands.
“Don’t be a woman,” said Kaltenbrunner, lighting a cigarette, and Kruger realized that he had chosen an absolutely precise line of behavior. – We need to analyze the failure so as not to repeat it.
Kruger said:
– Obergruppenführer, I understand that my guilt is immeasurable. But I would like you to listen to Standartenführer Stirlitz. He was fully aware of our operation, and he can confirm that everything was prepared with the utmost care and conscientiousness.
– What did Stirlitz have to do with the operation? Kaltenbrunner shrugged. – He’s from intelligence, he dealt with other issues in Krakow.
“I know that he was dealing with the missing FAU in Krakow, but I considered it my duty to dedicate him to all the details of our operation, believing that, upon returning, he would report either to the Reichsfuehrer or to you about how we organized the case.” I was waiting for some additional instructions from you, but I never received anything.
Kaltenbrunner called the secretary and asked him:
– Please find out whether Stirlitz from the Sixth Directorate was included in the list of persons allowed to carry out Operation Schwarzfire. Find out whether Stirlitz received a reception from management after returning from Krakow, and if he did, then with whom. Also ask what issues he raised in the conversation.
Kruger realized that he began to expose Stirlitz to attack too early.
“I alone bear all the blame,” he spoke again, lowering his head, squeezing out dull, heavy words, “it will be very painful for me if you punish Stirlitz.” I have deep respect for him as a dedicated fighter. I have no excuse, and I can only atone for my guilt with blood on the battlefield.
– Who will fight the enemies here?! I?! One?! It's too easy to die for your homeland and the Fuhrer at the front! And it’s much more difficult to live here, under bombs, and burn out the filth with a hot iron! This requires not only courage, but also intelligence! Great mind, Kruger!
Kruger understood: there would be no sending to the front.
The secretary quietly opened the door and placed several thin folders on Kaltenbrunner's desk. Kaltenbrunner leafed through the folders and looked expectantly at the secretary.
“No,” said the secretary, “upon returning from Krakow, Stirlitz immediately switched to identifying a strategic transmitter working for Moscow...
Kruger decided to continue his game, he thought that Kaltenbrunner, like all cruel people, was extremely sentimental.
- Obergruppenführer, nevertheless, I ask you to allow me to go to the front line.
“Sit down,” said Kaltenbrunner, “you are a general, not a woman.” Today you can rest, and tomorrow you will write to me in detail about the operation. There we will think about where to send you to work... There are few people, but there is a lot to do, Kruger. A lot of work.
When Kruger left, Kaltenbrunner called the secretary and asked him:
– Give me all of Stirlitz’s affairs over the past year or two, but so that Schellenberg doesn’t find out about it: Stirlitz is a valuable worker and a brave man, you shouldn’t cast a shadow on him. Just an ordinary comradely mutual check... And prepare an order for Kruger: we will send him as deputy chief of the Prague Gestapo - there is a hot spot there...
The Chairman of the Imperial People's Court, Freisler, kept shouting. He simply could not listen to the testimony of the accused, interrupted him, slammed his fist on the table and felt his legs getting cold from anger.
-You're not even a pig! - he shouted. – You are a hybrid of a donkey and a pig! Answer: what were your motives in passing on information of national importance to the Reds?!
“I was guided by only one motive - love for the Motherland,” answered the accused, “only love for the Motherland...
- Insolent! You don't dare talk about love for the Motherland! You have no homeland!
– I love my homeland very much.
- With what kind of love do you love her?! You love her with the love of a homosexual! Well?! Who did you give this data to in Krakow?
– This question is no longer of interest to you. Those to whom I conveyed information are beyond your reach.
– You are not just a hybrid of a donkey and a pig! You are also a fool! In the mountains of Bavaria, a super-powerful weapon of destruction has already been created that will crush the enemies of the Reich!
– Don’t indulge yourself with illusions. It's March '45, not June '41, Mr. Chairman.
- No, you are not just a fool! You naive fool! Retribution is coming as inexorably as the dawn and as the sunrise of our victory! Only corrupted types like you don't see this! Answer the whole truth to the court - this is the only thing that can save your stinking, cowardly, corrupt life!
- I won't answer anymore.
– Do you realize what this threatens you with?
“I’m no longer in danger.” I sleep peacefully. You are not sleeping.
- Take this scoundrel away! Take him away! I'm disgusted to see this vile face!
When the accused was taken away, Freisler put on his square cap, straightened his robe and said:
– A break is announced for the verdict!
He always called a break ten minutes before lunch: the chairman of the imperial people's court suffered from a peptic ulcer, and the doctors ordered him not only to carefully follow a strict diet, but also to eat every minute.
All this, which happened in March 1945, was one of the denouements of the story that began last summer...
« Center. The meeting at Himmler's field headquarters on May 12, 1944 was interrupted due to a summons from the Reichsführer SS to Hitler. However, some of the issues included in the meeting agenda were discussed. The question of transferring the party leaders of East Prussia to an illegal position in connection with the actions of the Russian troops was left until the next meeting.
The question of the fate of the largest centers of Slavic culture was considered. Here is the entry:
„ Himmler. One of our serious mistakes, I am convinced of this, was an extremely liberal attitude towards the Slavs. The best solution to the Slavic question would be to copy, albeit slightly corrected, the Jewish question. Unfortunately, my arguments were not taken into account; Rosenberg’s point of view prevailed.
Kaltenbrunner.
I am deeply convinced that it is never too late to implement a good proposal.
Himmler. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. If we had begun an active, energetic solution to the Slavic question two years ago, we would not now have to prepare ourselves to go underground. Let's look at things soberly. Now we are obliged to accumulate our efforts in order to try to solve in the shortest possible time what has not been resolved so far.
Kaltenbrunner. I think that our proposals for the complete destruction of the historical centers of Slavism - Krakow, Prague, Warsaw and other similar centers will leave a certain mark even on the possible (I am taking an extreme case) revival of this nation. By nature, the Slav is not only stupid, but also sentimental. The sight of the ashes will accordingly shape future generations of Slavs. The collapse of the centers of historical culture is a form of collapse of the spirit of the nation.
Himmler. The army will not agree to the immediate destruction of all centers prepared according to your project. An army cannot fight in the desert. The question, if we think of solving it in a coordinated manner, can probably be posed in such a way that the destruction of the centers of Slavism must be carried out without fail either after our final victory, or, at worst, in the last days before the army’s retreat from the cities you named.
Brautigam. It would be worth considering the issue of evacuating some of the most valuable historical monuments.
Kaltenbrunner. Brautigam, I find it funny to listen to you. You are a diplomat, but you are talking nonsense.
Himmler. There is a certain reason for Bräutigam's proposal. But we will return to this point next week. Kaltenbrunner, contact Keitel or Jodl; Apparently it's better with Yodel, he's smarter. Discuss specifics and details with him. Select a few of the largest centers - I agree with you: Krakow, Prague, Sofia, Bratislava...
Kaltenbrunner. Bratislava is a wonderful city, there is excellent goat hunting in the surrounding area.
Himmler. Stop interrupting me, Kaltenbrunner, what a savage manner!
Kaltenbrunner. After all, Bratislava is still the capital of the Slovak state that is friendly to us.
Himmler. Sometimes I don’t know how to react to your conclusions: either laugh or scold you. I will tear up the sheet of agreement with Slovakia at the hour when it will be beneficial to me. Don't you think that an agreement with the Slavs - any of their national forms - could be serious?
Kaltenbrunner. So, do I need to get the army's consent in principle for the action to destroy these centers?
Himmler. Yes, definitely, otherwise the General Staff will start disturbing the Fuhrer with complaints about us. Why do we need unnecessary squabbling! We are all dead tired of squabbles. Goodbye friends…
Brautigam. All the best, Reichsfuehrer.
Kaltenbrunner. Goodbye. Reichsfuehrer, you forgot your pen.
Himmler. Thank you, I'm very used to it. Switzerland makes great pens. Well done! “Mont Blanc is a high company in every sense...”
As I learned, Kaltenbrunner had already agreed with Jodl on a joint (Gestapo, SS, SD and army) action to destroy the largest centers of Slavic culture. Eustace».
This encryption arrived from Berlin to the Center on May 21, 1944. On the same day it was handed over by messenger to all front commanders. At the same time, a radiogram was sent to Berlin via the channel of Erwin and Kat, Stirlitz’s radio operators, who had been working with him in Berlin for several years now:
« Eustace. Find an opportunity to visit Krakow in person. Center».
A month later, the intelligence department of the front headquarters drew up documents with the following content:
“A military intelligence group consisting of three people: the head - Whirlwind, the deputy for intelligence work - Kolya and the radio operator-cipher operator - Anya, seconded by the General Staff of the Red Army to carry out a special task, were trained on issues related to the passport regime of the General Government and - separately - Krakow; legends, codes, times and places of radio communications have been clarified.
The group’s tasks are to establish the methods, time, and persons responsible for the destruction of Krakow.
The methods of implementation have been agreed upon with the head of the Center for the implementation of a special task, Colonel Borodin.
Work: after the release and landing - collection. Locate each other by flashing flashlights. The gathering center is Anya. If someone is bruised or injured, it is necessary to flash flashlights more often, at intervals of one minute, and not after three, as is established. Color differences: radio operator - white, leader - red, deputy - green.
Immediately after landing, parachutes are dug in and they begin to move north - three kilometers. Here is a halt; change clothes and establish contact with Borodin. After this, the radio must be buried, the two remain in the forest near the radio, and the intelligence deputy goes to the village of Rybny. There he must find out the presence of German patrols. If there are no troops or patrols in the village, Whirlwind goes to the city of Zlobnów, to Grushevu Street, house 107, to Stanislav Palek and conveys greetings to him from his son Ignacy, colonel of the Polish Army. Sigismund Palek puts Whirlwind through his people in contact with the cryptographer Mukha. The whirlwind subjugates the Fly.
If for some reason all members of the group do not gather after landing or Palek’s house is occupied by the Germans, the meeting place is set at a church in the village of Rybny: every day, from the seventh to the tenth, from ten to eleven in the morning. Mukha, a young man in a shabby German uniform without shoulder straps, will approach the leader. The whirlwind should be dressed in a blue suit, a cap in his right hand, and a white handkerchief in his left hand, with which he will wipe his forehead from right to left with a quick movement. Password: “Excuse me, please, have you seen the old lady here with two bags?” Feedback: “In my opinion, she recently left with a passing car.”
EQUIPMENT OF THE VORTEX GROUP:
occupation marks – 10,000
Reichsmark – 2000
gold watches – 8 pieces
suits – 4 (two Boston, two Cheviot, tailored to special order in Lviv)
boots – 4 pairs
boots – 2 pairs
shirts – 2 pairs
wool socks – 2 pairs
yarn socks – 3 pairs
handkerchiefs – 4 pieces
Parabellum pistols – 3 pieces
clips for them - 6 pieces
pomegranate – 8
“PPD” automatic machines – 3 pieces
walkie-talkie - one
power sets – 2
Things handed over by the captain VYSOKOVSKY (signature).
Things accepted by the major VORTEX (signature)».
The following characteristics were included in the thin folder attached to the materials of Operation Whirlwind:
“Burlakov Andrey Fedorovich, Russian, born in Tambov in 1917, single, member of the All-Union Communist Party (Bolsheviks) since 1939. In 1935 he entered the Pedagogical Institute, the Faculty of Philology and History. After graduating from the pedagogical institute, comrade. Burlakov A.F. was sent by a teacher to school with. Shapovalovka. Participated in the war with the White Finns. After being wounded and demobilized, he returned to Tambov, where he began working as an instructor for the city party committee. At the beginning of the Great Patriotic War he volunteered for the front. Subsequently he was sent to a special school of the General Staff of the Red Army. After graduating from a special school, he was sent to Dnepropetrovsk, where he became the head of the residency. I lived illegally for a year, legally for three months, getting a job as a translator in Todt’s organization at facility 45/22. For the successful completion of command assignments he was awarded the Order of the Red Banner and the Order of the Patriotic War, 1st degree. He was not involved in trial or investigation. Self-possessed, morally stable. Selflessly devoted to the party’s cause.”
“Isaev Alexander Maksimovich, Russian, born in Vladivostok in 1923, single, member of the All-Union Communist Party (Bolsheviks) since 1943, in 1940 he entered the physics department of Moscow State University. In June 1941, he volunteered to go to the front of the Great Patriotic War. For the courage shown during the battles near Gzhatsk, he was awarded the medal “For Courage”. Sent to a special school of the General Staff of the Red Army. After graduating from special school, he was sent to the rear three times with special assignments. Awarded the Order of the Red Star and the Order of the Patriotic War, II degree. Self-possessed, morally stable. He was not involved in trial or investigation. He is selflessly devoted to the party’s cause.”
“Lebedeva Evgenia Sergeevna, Russian, born in 1923, member of the Komsomol, unmarried, born in the city of Taishet, Krasnoyarsk Territory. In 1940 she graduated from high school. She worked as a collector in the survey department of the Yuzhsib branch. In 1941, she submitted an application to the district military registration and enlistment office. She was sent to the air defense units of Leningrad. From there, after a stay in the hospital, she was sent to radio operator school. She was sent to the rear on a special mission. Awarded the Order of the Red Star. She was not involved in trial or investigation. Self-possessed and morally stable. She is devoted to the party’s cause.”
The texts of legends, developed for implementation and legalization, as well as in case of failure, were also stored here.
“I, Popko Kirill Avksentievich, Ukrainian, was born on October 24, 1917 in Dneprodzerzhinsk in the family of a teacher. My mother, a member of the bureau of the district party committee, was shot by the NKVD in the fall of '37. I worked as a loader at the Krivoy Rog railway station, on the seventh distance of the Stalin Railway. He served in the ranks of the Red Army in the troops of the Kyiv Military District, in the first rifle regiment of a separate cavalry division stationed in the Belaya Tserkov area. During the battles near Kiev he surrendered. After checking in filtration camp No. 56/a, he was released and got a job as an assistant to the head of a workshop at the Dnepropetrovsk mill. My father worked as a school director, and soon I moved from the mill to work at the school as a supply manager. During the advance of the Red Army, my father died during an air raid. I retreated with parts of the German army to Lviv, where I worked at the railway station as a dispatcher for the depot service. Currently he left there due to the Bolshevik offensive. Ausweiss No. 7419, issued by the city mayor of Lvov.”
“I, Grishanchikov Andrey Yakovlevich, Russian, was born on May 9, 1922 in Moscow. He studied at the Pedagogical Institute, at the Faculty of Physics. He was sent in September 1941 to dig trenches near Moscow. In October he surrendered. I was sent to Minsk, where I worked first as a construction worker, then as a hairdresser in Ereminsky’s workshop, which was located on Ugolnaya Street, house 7. I retreated along with the German troops, and am currently going to Krakow, where, as I was told in the train, there is a point to provide assistance to persons fleeing Bolshevik terror. Ausweiss No. 12/299, issued on July 22, 1942 by the mayor of Minsk.”
“I, Grudinina Elizaveta Rodionovna, Russian, was born on August 16, 1924 in the village of Vyselki, Kursk region. My parents were dispossessed in 1929 and exiled to a settlement in the Khakass Autonomous Region, in the village of Divnoye. A month before the war, after finishing ninth grade, I went to visit my aunt in Kursk. Here, with my aunt, who lived on Voroshilov Street, house 42, apartment 17, the war found me. After the Bolsheviks left the city, I began working in the officers' club as a waitress. Later she was a secretary-typist at a city hospital. Together with the family of my aunt, Lakurina Praskovya Nikolaevna, she retreated to Kyiv, where she got a job as a maid for Vice-Prosecutor Sturmer. From Kyiv, having left my aunt’s family, I moved to Uzhgorod, where I met my acquaintance from Kursk, an officer of the Russian liberation army, Grigory Shevtsov, who said that he saw my aunt during the retreat from Lvov. Aunt was going to go to Germany via Krakow. That's why I'm now going to Krakow to ask the authorities for help. I am also going to Germany with my aunt’s family. Ausweiss No. 7779, issued August 3, 1942."
The next three pieces of paper were handwritten:
“I, Andrey Fedorovich Burlakov, major of the Red Army, ask that the salary due to me be transferred to my parents at the address: Astrakhan, Abkhazskaya, 56, to Fedor Fedorovich Burlakov and Tamara Mikhailovna.”
“I, Isaev Alexander Maksimovich, senior lieutenant of the Red Army, ask that the salary due to me be transferred to my mother, Gavrilina Alexandra Nikolaevna, to the address in my personal file.”
“I, Evgenia Sergeevna Lebedeva, junior lieutenant of the Red Army, ask that my salary be transferred to a savings book, since I have no relatives after the death of my parents. I am enclosing the savings book."
And the last document:
“Today, June 27, 1944, at 23:45, three paratroopers were dropped in square 57. Due to low clouds and strong winds, a slight deviation from the target area is possible. Captain Rodionov».
The pilot Rodionov turned out to be right - the clouds were low and the wind was strong. He was wrong in another respect: the deviation from the given area was very large. The group dropped out seventy-five kilometers from the intended landing site. The wind scattered the paratroopers in different directions. No one responded to the signals from the white beam of Anya’s flashlight. The ground was unseasonably cold. The puddles bubbled like rain blisters. The forest smelled of autumn leaves. Somewhere in the distance dogs were howling. Anya buried her parachute, overalls and walkie-talkie, combed her hair, washed her hands in a puddle and went north.
Popko
In the morning Whirlwind made its way to the highway. Milky dew lay on the asphalt, like the first autumn frost. The clouds rose and were no longer torn apart, as at night, bumping into the treetops. It was very quiet, as happens at dawn, when the night is still trying to fight the morning.
The whirlwind was moving along the road, through the small forest. Wet leaves gently touched his face, and he smiled, for some reason remembering how his father planted trees in the area around their house. From somewhere he brought seedlings of American walnut - a broad-leaved tree of amazing beauty. When the two seedlings took root and rapidly began to grow upward and wider, the father, returning home, stopped and greeted the trees as if they were people, carefully shaking their large leaves with two fingers. If anyone noticed this, the father pretended to feel the leaves, and if no one was nearby, he would talk quietly and affectionately to the trees for a long time. The tree that was wider and lower was considered a woman, and the long one, slightly tilted to one side, was considered a man. Whirlwind heard his father whispering to the trees several times, asking them about their lives, complaining about his own, and listened for a long time to what they answered him with the noise of their leaves.
Memories did not prevent Whirlwind from thinking: what he remembered slowly floated before his eyes, becoming some kind of visible connection with the house, with what from now on became the past. And now he was thinking about the present, about what happened that night with his comrades. He went through all the possible options - the worst at first, and then, gradually, the most favorable for the members of his group.
“Apparently, the wind scattered us,” thought Whirlwind. “I should have heard the shooting, because the wind was on me, and they jumped first, therefore, they landed in the direction from which the wind came.” “Whirlwind,” he grinned, “a whirlwind flew in... A stupid nickname, just in the manner of Ivanhoe, honestly... I should have taken the nickname Wind - at least without pretensions.”
He stopped - with a jolt - and froze. Ahead, the asphalt was blocked by two rows of barbed wire, which came close to the striped border barrier. A German sentry walked along the barrier. At the edge of the forest there was a darkened guardhouse. Blue smoke was pouring out of the chimney in clouds, curling towards the ground: apparently, the stove had just been lit.
Whirlwind stood for several moments, feeling his whole body being constricted by a heavy, gradually awakening tension. Then he began to slowly squat. He knew the forest. As a boy, he realized that there is nothing more noticeable in the forest than a sudden movement. The animal runs through the thicket, and it is visible, but then it froze - and disappeared, until it disappeared again until it again betrayed itself by movement.
The whirlwind lay down on the ground, lay there for a minute, and then began to slowly crawl away into the forest. He climbed into the thicket, turned on his back, lit a cigarette and looked for a long time at the bizarre interweaving of black branches above his head.
“Apparently, I went to the border of the Reich with the General Government, with Poland. Otherwise, where does the border come from? Apparently, we landed a lot west of Krakow, which means there are a ton of patrols here. That sucks!”
Whirlwind took out a map, spread it on the grass and, resting his head on his fist with a cigarette clutched in it, began to trace the nail of his little finger along the highways leading from Krakow: one to the east, another to Zakopane, a third to Silesia, a fourth to Warsaw.
“Exactly. This is the road to Silesia. A kilometer from here is the territory of the Third Reich, motherfucker... We need to go back. Seventy kilometers, no less.”
Whirlwind took a chocolate bar out of his pocket and lazily chewed it. He drank a little cold water from the flask and began to crawl further into the thicket, every now and then freezing and listening to the brittle, wet morning silence.
(Whirlwind correctly determined that there was a border in front of him. He also quite correctly assumed that there were more patrols here than in any other place. But Whirlwind could not know that yesterday their plane was detected by direction-finding units. Moreover, it was accurate even the place where the Douglas lay down on the opposite course was taken. Therefore, the chief of the Krakow Gestapo ordered the head of department III-A to comb the forests in the area of those squares where, presumably, the cargo or the Red paratroopers were dropped.)
The whirlwind was moving along the forest road. She then climbed the hills, then went down into the dark and cold hollows. The forest was echoing and quiet, the road was untrodden, but nevertheless excellent, tight, not broken by the rains. Whirlwind figured that if he walked at this pace through the forest, then by tomorrow evening he would be very close to Rybna and Zlobnuv. He decided not to enter the villages, although he spoke Polish quite well.
“It’s not worth it,” he decided, “otherwise I’ll leave a legacy.” I don't really know the situation here. It’s better to wander the extra ten kilometers. One way or another, the compass will help out.”
Coming out into the clearings, just like at the border, he froze, slowly sank to the ground and only then walked around the clearing. Once he stood for a long time at the edge of a young birch tree and listened to the dull hum of the bees. He even felt in his mouth the slow, linden taste of the first, liquid light honey, from somewhere inside.
By evening he felt severely tired. He was not tired because he had walked more than forty kilometers. He was tired from walking through the forest - wary, silent; every trunk is an enemy, every clearing is a raid, every river is barbed wire.
“The bastard,” Whirlwind thought wearily about this quiet forest, “is growing up—and spat on the war seven times. There are not even the tops of heads cut off by shells. And burnt-out sectors too. It's a pity for the burnt forest. He got into a human squabble and suffered for no reason whatsoever. And this is a prosperous, quiet, bee forest, I don’t feel sorry for it at all.”
Seventeen Moments of Spring (collection) Yulian Semenov
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Title: Seventeen Moments of Spring (collection)
Author: Yulian Semenov
Year: 1967, 1969, 1982
Genre: Books about war, Political detective stories, Soviet literature, Spy detective stories
About the book “Seventeen Moments of Spring (collection)” Yulian Semenov
Soviet writer Yulian Semenov was almost the only author in the USSR writing in the genre of military-political detective story. War is just a continuation of politics, and of course, in his books, the theme of heroism comes first. The novel “Seventeen Moments of Spring” belongs to just such a work. It was in great demand in the USSR. This book was created based on archival documents and looks very realistic and believable.
The narrative style of the novel “Seventeen Moments of Spring” is characteristic only of Yulian Semyonov. In the work, for example, there are many dialogues that alternate with deep reflections of the author himself about the events of that time, and, of course, there are many bright personalities. The heroes of the novel are not fictional people, but officers and generals of the German army and Soviet intelligence officers who actually existed at that time. The image of the intelligence officer was taken from a man who devoted many years of his life to serving in counterintelligence and visited the deep rear of Nazi Germany. But still the main character is a collective image. The author allowed himself to generalize the exploits of many people working behind enemy lines into the feat of one hero, Isaev.
Yulian Semenov’s novel “Seventeen Moments of Spring” is a story about 17 days of dangerous work of the Soviet intelligence officer Isaev behind enemy lines. He held the rank of officer in the German army and had direct contact with the senior officers of Germany. Communication with the homeland was established through the radio operator Kat. Isaev worked behind enemy lines under the name Stirlitz. He will have to overcome many dangerous moments to achieve his goal. The book is very interesting and is just one part of a whole series.
Yulian Semenov’s book “Seventeen Moments of Spring” was created based on the documented events of the war of the forties. The plot is connected with the disclosure of an attempt by some senior officers of the German army to negotiate with American and British representatives of military intelligence to conclude peace without waiting for the complete defeat of Germany. Thus, the West wanted to strengthen its position against the USSR.
The work “Seventeen Moments of Spring” is written in a laconic, precise language, but is very easy to read. The author is the only writer in the USSR who had access to KGB documents and therefore the book is full of truthful information. Of course, Yulian Semenov was not allowed to write everything in his books; unfortunately, USSR censorship was at the highest level. Much is still classified as secret.
For the younger generation, the novel “Seventeen Moments of Spring” will give an example of courage and bravery. Every reader will see here a story about duty, honor and responsibility. You can also try to think logically yourself, like Stirlitz. Surely this can be useful in our lives.
On our website about books you can download for free or read online the book “Seventeen Moments of Spring (collection)” by Yulian Semenov in epub, fb2, txt, rtf, pdf formats for iPad, iPhone, Android and Kindle. The book will give you a lot of pleasant moments and real pleasure from reading. You can buy the full version from our partner. Also, here you will find the latest news from the literary world, learn the biography of your favorite authors. For beginning writers, there is a separate section with useful tips and tricks, interesting articles, thanks to which you yourself can try your hand at literary crafts.
Quotes from the book “Seventeen Moments of Spring (collection)” Yulian Semenov
Little lies give rise to great mistrust.
In my opinion, betrayal is terrible, but even more terrible is indifferent and passive observation of how both betrayal and murder occur.
- In that case, there can only be one part in this: stopping the killing.
- This does not depend on you.
- Does not depend. What do you call betrayal?
- Betrayal is passivity.
- No, passivity is not betrayal.
- This is worse than betrayal...
Words are powerful only when they are formed into the Bible or Pushkin’s poems... Otherwise, they are rubbish, and that’s all.
Oil is the blood pulsating through the arteries of war.
- ...aren't you a patriot of Germany?
- I am. But what do we mean by “German patriot”?
- Fidelity to our ideology.
- Ideology is not a country yet.
Nothing is more valuable than help in self-justification of villainy.
A person's character is best recognized in an argument.
Stirlitz tuned the receiver to France - Paris was broadcasting a concert of the young singer Edith Piaf. Her voice was low and strong, and the words of her songs were simple and artless.
“I don’t blame the complete collapse of morals,” said the pastor, “no, I just listen to it and remember Handel and Bach all the time.” Previously, apparently, people of art were more demanding of themselves: they walked alongside faith and set themselves supreme goals. And this? That's what they say in the markets...
- This singer will outlive herself... But you and I will argue after the war.
The book “Seventeen Moments of Spring,” written by the Soviet writer Yulian Semyonov, is heard by almost everyone. Many have repeatedly watched the series of the same name, which tells about the Soviet intelligence officer Stirlitz. Jokes are written about this man, people argue about who could have become his prototype. Moreover, it is known that the plot is based on real events that took place in the spring of 1945. This book includes three novels about Stirlitz.
In the novel “Major Whirlwind” the author reflects the events that took place at the end of 1944. The main storyline is the struggle of a Soviet reconnaissance group behind enemy lines. Stirlitz himself does not take the lead here, but his family members are well described. The main role here is played by Major Whirlwind, who knows how to analyze the situation and make decisions. The writer reflects the intellectual struggle between Soviet and German intelligence, which unfolds more fully in subsequent works.
The novel “Seventeen Moments of Spring” is already more about Stirlitz himself, who is in Berlin and wants to interfere with the opponents of the USSR. The time period of February-March 1945 is described here. The war will end soon, Berlin is being bombed, behind the back of the USSR the allies are negotiating, which Stirlitz must prevent. Already at the very beginning they begin to suspect him of espionage, but he manages to maintain trust. However, he was left without contact with the Moscow leadership.
The book "Ordered to Survive" tells the story of Strelitz's return to Berlin after a successful operation. But now everything is not so simple, it has long been suspected that he is a Soviet agent, the ring around him is narrowing more and more. He falls into a trap and is cut off from his people. And the Soviet leadership understands that their agent has been exposed, and therefore his data should not be trusted too much.
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