Wednesday, September 23, 2015

Red Army rations

"We had to eat food categorised as 'third rate', the worst of all existing types then in army supplies. Thin soup was made with frozen potatoes, without meat, and with that we got a small portion of black bread, a little porridge without butter for lunch and dinner - or worse. Some had not yet fully eaten the food reserves they had brought from home, and kept them under their pillows at their head. They finished them off privately, keeping their secret from outsiders' hungry eyes, having covered their head with a blanket after lights out, quietly munching so as not to arouse jealousy from others, keeping an eye out so that no one stole anything. But still this happened, there were arguments that almost reached fighting. In a short time, everyone ran out of food, and all were hungry. The feeling of hunger constantly pursued us, and even after eating, it did not subside, the young organism demanded food. Among us we talked only about food: we remembered and talked about various household foods. We did not think about or remember girls.

"Everyone cherished the dream of going to detail in the kitchen, where regularly several people from the company were sent daily, and there ate their fill at least once. As a rule, there stuffed themselves and got a few days in hospital. I was also there. The hardest part was to clean the pot after the distribution of cereals. Porridge in the pot burnt after the distribution remained on the walls of the boiler as a crust, which had to be scraped off. We took it away completely in a huge pot, not yet fully cooled down, and you started to scrape the burnt crust, dripping with sweat. The cleaned off crust of black burnt porridge was taken away by the cook, but you could steal the crust, and friends, who at that time were on duty in the late evening under the windows of the dining room, waited for them to be thrown out the window, waiting for a few scraps of burnt porridge.

"On the station square - it was a kilometre away from our location - there was a small market, where local women sold homemade, poor food. They sold flat cakes or tortillas there and God knows what they were made from. Those who could get money from home went there secretly and bought these cakes. And ate them, of course, also secretly. I and Ivan Sidorenko, a guy from our Chehurovki Pisarevsky area, both bought the bread. We did not eat all the cakes and two were left in a greatcoat pocket, and the greatcoat hung on a hanger. The flat bread was spotted by somebody who stole and ate it. Unable to find the flat bread, Ivan complained to the top sergeant, and he decided to reveal the thief, to be severely punished, so that others were not tempted to steal.

"At evening roll call, after roll call, the command 'Dismiss!' was not called out. Instead roll call was followed by another command: 'I command anyone who took the flat bread out of cadet Sidorenko's pocket to step forward!' Deathly silence, no one stepped forward. The sergeant waited five minutes and then repeated the command, adding: 'You will stay up all night, until I know who took the flat bread!'

"As time passed, no one admitted the theft, and the sergeant did not dismiss the ranked soldiers. From time to time he went to his supply room, and we were standing in line. No one even dreamed of breaking ranks and leaving: it would be tantamount to revolt. While there was no sergeant, in the ranks could be heard shouting of abuse at the person who stole the bread. The sergeant reappeared. - What's the noise? Attention! At Ease! No one wishes to confess? - No one stepped forward, and he again went into the supply room.

Everybody was tired of standing and wanted to sleep, and it was not clear how this would end. This went on all night. 15 minutes before the morning wake up call, the sergeant gave the order: 'End Roll Call!' We did not have time to sleep, as the bugler in front of the dugouts played 'Zorya' and the orderly shouted: 'Get up!' And then everything went on with the normal daily routine. We had not slept during the night, and we had to rotate to the next duty. Because of these damn stolen flat cakes, which nobody had even seen, being eaten, they had to endure hardship and humiliation. There was talk that at the front the troops were well fed, and many of us were tired of the constant hunger pangs, we wanted to be sent to the front quickly, even knowing that there we would be living permanently on the brink between life and death.

http://www.donsmaps.com/voronezhstories.html




No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: Only a member of this blog may post a comment.