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View Poll Results: Are you interested in Y.V.Klimov's memoirs?

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  • Yes. No doubt.

    37 66.07%
  • Yes. You are a KGB provocator, but I nonetheless want to read your biased propaganda

    12 21.43%
  • No. No way, Jose!

    2 3.57%
  • No. Though you are a very handsome KGB agent, it doesn't compensate for biasity of your propaganda

    5 8.93%
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Thread: Who is interested in my granddad's memoirs?

  1. #16
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    Default Re: Who is interested in my granddad's memoirs?

    Excellent matter , thank you mate.
    It seens you grandfather was a good writer
    The general-traitor Vlasov organised so called RLA (Russian Liberation Army) which hosts many traitors, cowards and other renegades. But it was too late. Many millions of people personally experienced what Fascism really is – not theoretically how it was presented on the political classes but in practice.
    Actually he was a traitor.The man who voluntary colloborated with NAzy ( whatever he try to speak for his justification:" battle against bolshevism, Stalin" and other bulsh..t)
    The poples who lived in that time in Odessa can't be mistaken.I believe them.

    "I decide who is a Jew and who is an Aryan "- Hermann Goering

  2. #17
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    Default Re: Who is interested in my granddad's memoirs?

    - 3 -
    In January - February the Rumanians started to evacuate all the valuable equipment from Odessa: machinery, lathes, trucks and tramway carriages. It was apparent that they were preparing to surrender the town. Many German servicemen and sailors appeared in the town. From March I stopped going to the Farm. In any case the only jobs they had were as watchmen or looking after the cattle. All the real jobs were taken by the full-time employees. Our team leader, Lihidchenko, was drunk all the time celebrating his son’s return. The son came back in a German uniform. Apparently as early as 1942 he had been captured and then signed up to Vlasov’s army. The father, Lihidchenko, could not look people in the eye, he was so ashamed for his son. Vera, Nadezhda, Luba and Sophia openly scolded their brother for his betrayal. He left soon afterwards, disappearing as quick as he materialised.
    At the end of March 1944 a new order was issued in the city – all civil authority was to be transferred to German administration and there was to be the imposition of a curfew. It was prohibited to wander about without permission from 20:00 till 07:00. For any disobedience – execution. On leaving the town the Rumanian office gave us some good advice – all windows should be covered by shutters and doors should not be locked…
    The town filled with refugees. There were locally recruited policemen from the Rostov region, Zaporozhie region, from Nikopol, Militopol and Kuban. There were many people who, from their appearance, seemed to be from the Caucasus. All the Cossack units were dressed in German uniforms with the traditional burka [lamb’s wool overcoat http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Burka ] and of course papaha [lamb’s wool hat http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Papaha ]. Many had the traditional dagger attached to their belts [ http://www.metmuseum.org/toah/ho/10/...d_81.1.599.htm ]. Odessa’s residents had already heard from previous refugees many stories that the worst cut-throats were the Cossacks from Caucasus area. They would cordon off whole areas and force everyone to flee west. All those who stayed behind would be shot without any investigation of their circumstances. These Cossacks were feared above all others. On the third station of the “Big Fountain“ there was a new three-storey school. It appeared to be stuffed with clothes collected from all over Europe after the extermination of French, Belgians, Poles, Jews, Czechs and Slovaks. These Cossack-policemen started to sell or barter the clothes. Some of the clothes had dried blood on them, some had the Star of David – the six-pointed sign that can be seen on the Israel flag today. The clothes were good and fashionable and the Cossacks and Vlasovists sold the stolen goods with little hesitation.
    The Gestapo ruled the town now. Once on Preobrazhenskaya Street I witnessed how a German field gendarme escorted a convoy of German soldiers, actually they seemed to me just people dressed in German uniforms. They moved slowly, sad, tired and hungry. This made a deep impression on me. I guess they were deserters about to face a tough future. It was known that Fascists treated such people harshly. “Such beast they are – they do not even spare their own” – such I was thinking back then – “How can they then find compassion towards the Russian people”.
    Quite frequently one could see on a café or a pub door the sign – “Germans Only”. This sign, which evoked burning hatred towards the occupants from Russians and Ukrainians, could also be found on the tramway carriages, in the train station waiting hall, and the toilets. The Germans had their own night cabaret “Deutsche Ecke”. Obviously entry for Russians was prohibited. It was strange that even the toilets were divided into areas. One for the honourable officers, the other for the ordinary German soldiers.
    There was another unexpected meeting which I want to relate. The Rumanians gradually ran away taking with them everything that could be taken. The town was filling with German rear units and hospitals. Horse drawn caravans filled with German collaborators, policemen and such with their families kept passing through the town.
    Once Olga brought home her school mate Verka Lob and her sister. They had met in the Agro technical Institute where Olga was still studying. But the current classes had been cancelled because of the Rumanian administration’s evacuation. Verka was a saucy girl in our student group and personally for me was not at all attractive. Her sister Katia, two years younger, unlike Verka was exceptionally beautiful, very slender and pleasing to the eye. Olga and I knew that Verka had lived during the occupation in the town of Kremechug. It was a surprising meeting there at the institute where Verka and Katia had gone in the hope of meeting someone they knew… We sat at a tabled and served tea. It seems that they fled Kremenchug with a German support regiment where they worked as secretaries. Their behaviour, the tone of their talk, their laughter and jokes, their German-Russian military jargon, their barrack humour – all that spoke of their decaying moral standards. They were open about their love affairs with German officers. They had no regrets whatsoever that they had fled to the West with the Germans. Katia’s speech was especially rich with German oaths and coarse language. It was so striking and contradicted so much about her attractive appearance that it was difficult to believe. “German bed warmers” – was our conclusion after they left.
    Three days later there was a knock on the door. It was Verka. Big covered trucks were outside our building. Verka said that they were moving further west. Olga and I went out onto the street. In one of the cabins Katia was sitting waving at us. Destiny had given another chance to see them, our schoolmates. For the last time… Later I often recalled that meeting, trying to image what became of them after the war, if they even managed to stay alive. I would not want to be alive if I were them.

    [ see part 4 ]
    Last edited by Egorka; 06-30-2008 at 06:58 AM.

  3. #18
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    Default Re: Who is interested in my granddad's memoirs?

    It appeared that it was fully stuffed with the clothes which were collected from all over the Europe after the extermination of the French, Belgians, Poles, Jews, Czechs and Slovaks.
    How would he know that?

    First, that the clothes came after the extermination of the owners?

    Second, the countries it came from?

  4. #19
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    Default Re: Who is interested in my granddad's memoirs?

    -

    Fascinating reading Igor...you should consider publishing your grandfather's memoirs.

    ...Odessits had already heard from previous refugees many stories that the worst cut-throats are the the Cossacks from Caucasus area. They would cordon off whole area and force everyone to flee west. All the ones that would stay behind would be shot without any investigation of the matter. They were feared above all others. On the 3rd station of the “Big fountain“ there was a new 3 story school. It appeared that it was fully stuffed with the clothes which were collected from all over the Europe after the extermination of the French, Belgians, Poles, Jews, Czechs and Slovaks. These Cossack-policemen started to sell or barter the clothes. Some of the clothes had dry blood on them, some had David’s stars on them – six point sign, which can be seen on the Israel flag today. The clothes were good and fashionable and the Cossacks and Vlasovists were sold the stolen goods without much hesitation...
    -

  5. #20
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    Default Re: Who is interested in my granddad's memoirs?

    Quote Originally Posted by Rising Sun* View Post
    How would he know that?
    Of course he did know. But people talk...
    First, that the clothes came after the extermination of the owners?
    Well there were obvious signs that the clothes came from the Jews. And my grandfather knew about their faith. In the end of 1941 several thousands of them were burned in a huge storehouse on the outskirts of Odessa. He mentioned this event twice in his memoirs. Plus many thousands of Jews were shot during the same period. People knew about it. Hence conclusion that the clothes come from liquidated people.
    Second, the countries it came from?
    Obviously he did not know the list of countries. He just (and others on the marked where the clothes were sold) observed that it was fashionable and likely come from abroad. Whether it came precisely from the mentioned countries doe not matter much. My guess is that he just mentioned countries citing them left to right when looking on the European map.

  6. #21
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    Default Re: Who is interested in my granddad's memoirs?

    Quote Originally Posted by George Eller View Post
    -Fascinating reading Igor...you should consider publishing your grandfather's memoirs.-
    I hope it is interesting to others.
    Publishig... that is kind of what I am doing with it by placing it here.

  7. #22
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    Default Re: Who is interested in my granddad's memoirs?

    Quote Originally Posted by Egorka View Post
    Quote Originally Posted by George Eller View Post
    -Fascinating reading Igor...you should consider publishing your grandfather's memoirs.-
    I hope it is interesting to others.
    Publishig... that is kind of what I am doing with it by placing it here.
    -

    Well, I meant in book form - possibly in Russian and English language editions

    -

  8. #23
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    Default Re: Who is interested in my granddad's memoirs?

    Quote Originally Posted by George Eller View Post
    -
    Well, I meant in book form - possibly in Russian and English language editions
    -
    I got you alright! Just was being modest... on behalf of my granddad.

  9. #24
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    Default Re: Who is interested in my granddad's memoirs?

    Quote Originally Posted by Chevan View Post
    Its amazing matter mate.
    Thank you ( although i 've watched it already).
    SO does for the terrorist act in Odessa really have been executed ONLY the JEws?
    No, this is not true. Soviet troops went after Polish militay and Polish reserve first. Being sent to Siberia started Feb. 10, 1940. As soon as Hitler Sept 1939 attacked from 3 directions, Stalin attacked eastern Poland. Many of the military and even citizens from the area that were Ukraine and Jewish were working with Soviets at this point. Jewish were not killed in large numbers until 1941.

  10. #25
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    Default Re: Who is interested in my granddad's memoirs?

    Quote Originally Posted by Stasha View Post
    No, this is not true. Soviet troops went after Polish militay and Polish reserve first. Being sent to Siberia started Feb. 10, 1940. As soon as Hitler Sept 1939 attacked from 3 directions, Stalin attacked eastern Poland. Many of the military and even citizens from the area that were Ukraine and Jewish were working with Soviets at this point. Jewish were not killed in large numbers until 1941.
    We were talking about a specific incident.

  11. #26
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    Default Re: Who is interested in my granddad's memoirs?

    Guys, could you, PLEASE, go and argue in an other thread?

  12. #27
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    Default Re: Who is interested in my granddad's memoirs?

    Quote Originally Posted by Egorka View Post
    Guys, could you, PLEASE, go and argue in an other thread?
    Yeah, *** off.

    Egorka is going to the trouble of translating his grandfather's memoirs so we can all get an insight into his grandfather's personal experiences in extraordinary times.

    Egorka deserves more respect than hijacking his thread to continue these interminable eastern European squabbles.

    If you want to have that debate, start another thread. Or just continue one of the many along similar lines.
    Last edited by ww2admin; 05-21-2008 at 11:58 PM. Reason: language

  13. #28
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    Default Re: Who is interested in my granddad's memoirs?

    - 4 -
    The last days of March 1944 were sunny and warm. The snow had vanished everywhere. The granite roadway on the “Kulikovo pole” was dry, but dusty from masses of retreating Wehrmacht trucks and the horse carriages. The city’s inhabitants lurked in their hiding places expecting something. The city market was empty and deserted.

    Semen Vikentievich and Fenja Ivanovna [parents of my my grandfather’s girlfriend] had already in February slaughtered their piglet, which was previously kept in the shower room of the apartment. Now the salted meet and salo [salted or smocked pig fat] was much appreciated. Fenja Ivanovna was a good cook. I especially liked her mamaliga [ “A dish made out of yellow maize. It is better known to the rest of the world in its Italian form, polenta.” ], which replaced bread and was our main ration at that time. She had a special cast iron pot for that. Corn flour was dropped into boiling water that was being vigorously stirred with a wooden stick. Then the pot was covered with a piece of winter clothing for “stewing”. Meanwhile chopped onions with salo were fried in a pan. Mamaliga was served up on plates and was generously covered with the fried onions. It was delicious!

    April 1944 was windy and rainy. Sometimes it was snowy. All sorts of wild rumours were flying about. Some claimed that our forces had liberated Nikolaev. Others suggested that the Russians had already captured the station at Razdelnoe and that the town of Tiraspol was just about to be liberated. It was believable that the RKKA had taken Nikolaev. It was logical from the military point of view. The railway station at Razdelnoe was the main railway juncture of the German and Rumanian retreat routes out of Odessa and the whole Black Sea coast area. It was too much to hope for. People felt uneasy thinking what the occupier might do to the civilians of the town. The fate of Krasnodar, Rostov, Marioupol, the small and big towns of Donbass region showed that before a siege began, all the inhabitants were forced to leave. Vlasov’s army and the military units from Caucasus and Middle Asia were made responsible for enforcing this order. It scared the inhabitants a great deal. The rumours of their brutality were widespread and terrifying. Everyone hiding, if found, would be killed on the spot; they would throw a grenade into house cellars. Nonetheless, I decided to set up a hiding place. In our house each apartment had a designated cellar space for storing firewood. In our cubicle I arranged the firewood in such a manner that there would be a hiding place between the firewood and the back wall. There was room for only one person to lie down. I also stashed some food there for 3-5 days (bread, salo and water). I practiced lying in my hole, but could not do it for more than an hour without having to move. The only way to get in was to slide in feet first and then mask the entrance with my hands. Dark, humid and silent: like a grave. Beside me was a ceramic sewage pipe laid in the cellar and giving off a stench. I decided it would be used only as the last resort, so I went to explore the building’s garret. There was a ladder on the outer wall of the building on the yard side. Luckily for me it was located just beside our kitchen window. I could just open the window and step directly from the windowsill to the metal ladder steps. The disadvantage was that the ladder was located in the yard of the neighbouring building and if any strangers saw me climbing it, it could arouse their suspicions. Despite that, one early morning I climbed the ladder for the purpose of reconnaissance. I quickly reached the roof and got into the garret through the dormer-window. It was dark and empty inside. When the daylight came in I could only see some pillars holding the roof and many chimneys. One of the dormer-windows was facing the city centre and the Kulikovo field. Through that window there was a good view over the central railway station, the last tramway station of the “Big Fountain” line and to Kanatnaya Street in the direction of the sea port. I could see that there were many fires in the city, especially in the sea port area. From time to time explosions could be heard. Then incendiaries began the annihilation of the important city establishments… For my self I decided that this place was better than laying in a humid, stinky hole in the cellar.

    What was going on in the city? We all were interested to know, but everyone was afraid to go outside. My curiosity was so intense that despite Olga’s attempts to reason me, I decided to get to the city centre and sea port and find out what was happening. From a common sense point of view it was a very dangerous thing for me to do. I could attract the attention of a German patrol: a young Russian male, without a travel permit and with no apparent reason to be wandering around the city… Being detained for investigation would mean certain death… Looking back, I realise that I acted recklessly. By good fortune, my luck held; though, whenever I saw a patrol I would try to go around it. There were some pedestrians about, but only few. Old women would hurry off somewhere, often accompanying children. There were also men (probably workers) with travel permits.
    Soon I reached the Richelieu monument on Primorsky Boulevard, just next to the “Potemkin Stairs”. In the port speedboats were going back and forth and there were many ships and barges. There was fire on a ship in the repair dock.

    [ see part 5 ]
    Last edited by Egorka; 06-30-2008 at 07:00 AM.

  14. #29
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    Default Re: Who is interested in my granddad's memoirs?

    - 5 -
    The buildings that faced the “Potemkin Stairs” and Richelieu monument were enclosed in barbed wire and were secured by German guards. Russian and Ukrainian faces stared from all of the windows of those three-storey houses. The windows were without glass (probably blown out by the explosions in the seaport). It was said that the men had been brought on barges from Crimea and were waiting for a decision on their fate. Later I learned that many of them died at sea in locked barge holds as they were being transported to the Rumanian seaport of Constanta. Looking back, I think I could have quite easily been detained right there on the boulevard and without more ado been thrown into that temporary camp for those Russian boys! Back then I realised that I should immediately take to my heels and, God willing, avoid any patrols. It seems I was born lucky and was spared on that occasion too.
    The same day the flow of fleeing truck columns and separate groups of German soldiers changed. Now they would ask how to get to the road to Ovidiopol and Akkerman. Seems it was true that the railway junction at Razdelnoe was closed for them now and they were trying to escape by the only remaining road along the coast.

    In the evening Semen Vikentievich had three German soldiers billeted on him for the night. One of them, a warrant officer [Feldwebel ], asked in broken Russian for some food. He took out a bottle of schnapps, hardtack and what appeared to be a can of jam. Also a loaf of bread. Everything was laid on the table. Fenja Ivanovna put on the table rest of the borsch, and set up a tea kettle. They ate and drank alone and did not invite their hosts to the table. Later they took the apartment’s main and largest room for the night. Before bed time the warrant officer took out his Parabellum [ Luger P08 pistol ] and put under the pillow on the couch. The other two lay on the floor on the mattresses. I had to settle somehow in the small room next to an unused lathe. It was apparent that they were on the run by themselves. In the morning they asked for directions to Ovidiopol. Why? It must mean that there is no escape for them through Razdelnoe!

    Throughout the night there was a great deal of truck and armoured carrier traffic in the city. It moved mainly on two roads: the “Big Fountain” road and Lystdorf Road. We heard explosions and the machinegun fire. The morning of 10th April 1944 came. It was unusually quiet, though there were occasional explosions and in some places fires continued to burn for over a week. In the grey light of an early morning I climbed to the buildings garret to see what is going on in the city. In the seaport something was repeatedly exploding and dark thick smoke climbed into the sky. I was attracted by firelight on the pillars. It came through another dormer-window. At first I thought our building was on fire. Are we burning? It might be expected because our building was marked with cross by the incendiary and demolition detachment. Everyone was afraid of it and all the tenants kept a watchful eye. But soon I realised that it was a building on the other side of the street that was burning. During the last days it was occupied by some German rear military organisation. It was apparent that they had set the building on fire after leaving it.

    My attention was drawn to a motorcycle with side-car, which was approaching rapidly from the direction of railway station, crossing the Kulikovo field. As it approached I could see that there were two on the motorcycle; Germans soldiers wearing mackintoshes and helmets drove. An officer in greatcoat and service cap sat in the sidecar. He was asleep, head down. A machinegun was attached to the sidecar. I regretted that I did not have a weapon. What a perfect target! But the motorcycle turned into Kfnftnaya Street and I lost sight of it.
    I sat in the garret for more than two hours. It was already daylight, but there were no people to be seen on the Kulikovo field. What had happened? Where were the Germans? I got the impression that Odessa has been left by all the rear German units and the field units were about to move in instead. They would fight to defend the city. It was nearly 09:00. The neighbouring building had already stopped burning and was just smouldering. I could not see flames anymore but the smoke still got in through the window.

    I leaned out of the window in order to see better what was going in front of our house and accidentally noticed on the opposite side of the Pirogovskaya and Kanatnaya Streets three soldiers in green greatcoats. One of them had a box with antenna on his back. No big deal to realise that it was a portable radio transmitter. The other soldier held a microphone and talked to someone. All three had shoulder marks, but their heads are covered with, so known and dear to Russians, Ushankas made of artificial fur. Who were they? I wished so much that they were our Soviet soldiers. But why do they have green greatcoats like Rumanian troops? Why with shoulder marks? Well, I had heard that new uniforms for commanders had been introduced into the RKKA, including shoulder marks, but I thought it was just talk. I had never seen a Red Army soldier with shoulder marks. From some imperceptible signs, from their boots, from the way they acted on the void streets of Odessa, I intuitively sensed: Russians!

    [ see part 6 ]
    Last edited by Egorka; 06-30-2008 at 07:03 AM.

  15. #30
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    Default Re: Who is interested in my granddad's memoirs?

    Quote Originally Posted by Egorka View Post
    Guys, could you, PLEASE, go and argue in an other thread?
    Quote Originally Posted by Rising Sun* View Post
    Yeah, *** off.

    Egorka is going to the trouble of translating his grandfather's memoirs so we can all get an insight into his grandfather's personal experiences in extraordinary times.

    Egorka deserves more respect than hijacking his thread to continue these interminable eastern European squabbles.

    If you want to have that debate, start another thread. Or just continue one of the many along similar lines.
    DONE! Responses split out into separate thread; Please do not go so off topic to the thread in question when in hostile debates. Start a separate thread!

    Thank you for your assistance. Egorka is providing valuable original content to this site, respect that!

    Please refer too http://www.ww2incolor.com/forum/showthread.php?t=6985 for all nationalistic pissing matches regarding who owns what now!

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