Pilot Devyatayev is a hero of the war. Unknown feat of pilot Mikhail Devyatayev (photo, video). Mikhail Evseev Mikhail Evseev

№12, 23.11.1998

LOVE AND LIFE OF A LEGENDARY PILOT

Unknown about the famous pilot, a native of Mordovia, Mikhail Devyataev.

He ran away from the Mordovian police and became a cadet at a river technical school in Kazan.

New 1938 he met in the dungeons of the NKVD of Tatarstan.

His childhood friend, secretary of the Torbeevsky RK CPSU, refused to get a job.

Another friend, classmate, trying to get him a job, himself thundered for 10 years in prison. The war hero, who made an unprecedented escape from a secret missile center on a German plane, guarded Mordovian speculators from Moscow swindlers in 1946.

His eldest son is recorded as Russian, the second son and daughter are Tatars.

Irek BIKKININ

Mikhail Petrovich Devyataev is a living legend of Mordovia.

All residents of our republic, regardless of nationality, are proud of their Moksha compatriot Mikhail Petrovich Devyataev. Nature endowed Mikhail Petrovich with a huge reserve of health - despite the enormous physical and mental stress he endured in life, despite the fact that in April he had a microstroke, despite the fact that he is already eighty-two years old, he calmly leaves Kazan for Saransk to attend sports competitions. Most recently, in mid-November, he had to come to Torbeevo again - his 87-year-old cousin Yakov died. Then, at the request of the Head of the Republic of Mordovia, Nikolai Merkushkin, Mikhail Petrovich spoke to the conscripts who were going to serve on the nuclear cruiser "Admiral Ushakov", met with the commander of the cruiser.

At one time I was surprised to learn that Mikhail Petrovich's wife was a Tatar. How much our Mordovian newspapers wrote about Devyataev, but not a word about the nationality of his wife, as they took water in their mouths. True, in the latest edition of his book "Escape from Hell" (1995), everything about the wife and children of Mikhail Petrovich is written in detail. And among the Mordovian newspapers, only "Vecherny Saransk" in the issue of 10/22/98 removed the veil of secrecy - she spoke about many previously unpublished facts from the life of Mikhail Petrovich and called the Devyataev family Moksha-Tatar.

On October 7, my dream came true - I arrived in Kazan and met Mikhail Petrovich, his wife Fauzia Khairullovna, sons Alexei and Alexander, daughter Nelli, granddaughters of Mikhail Petrovich. Mikhail Petrovich gave a long interview for "Tatarskaya Gazeta" - on October 8, we spent about 5 hours at the table, appreciating the culinary talents of Fauzia Khairullovna. On October 9, at about 8 o'clock, we were driving in my car to Saransk. During all this time, Mikhail Petrovich told a lot of things that were not published either in books or in numerous interviews.

The eldest son of the Devyataevs, Alexei, was born on August 20, 1946. The second - Alexander - on September 24, 51, and daughter Nelly (Nailya) - on July 23, 57. Devyataev's book "Escape from Hell" was repeatedly published in Saransk. Reread this book. In a newspaper publication it is impossible to even briefly describe everything that fell to the lot of Mikhail Petrovich. I will try to repeat episodes from the book as little as possible.

Throughout his life, Mikhail Petrovich was accompanied by incredible coincidences. Many times he miraculously survived. But when I asked if he went to church or a mosque, Mikhail Petrovich said that he did not believe in God, or the devil, or Allah. As a child, he learned the lesson of atheism, when the family of a priest who lived nearby did not stop eating meat and eggs even during fasting. Mikhail Petrovich says that he saw so much meanness and cruelty in his life that it is unlikely that God would allow this if he were.

Fate brought Mikhail Petrovich constantly with the Tatars - Sasha Mukhamedzyanov, the first instructor with whom he took to the skies, division commander Colonel Yusupov, who showed an example of stamina and loyalty to the Motherland in captivity, Fatykh from Kazan, who was given "10 days of life" in the Sachsenhausen camp, and who died from beatings in his arms. And the most important woman in his life is also a Tatar. Even as a child, he ran to watch Sabantuy in Surgod, the village of the Tatar poet Khadi Taktash.

Mikhail Petrovich Devyataev says:

At the age of 13 I saw a real plane and a real pilot. I also wanted to fly. In general, the number 13 is significant for me - I was born the thirteenth child on July 13, 1917 (although the metric says that I was born on July 8), was also shot down and captured on July 13.

I came to Kazan by accident. In 1934, in August, my friends Pasha Parshin and Misha Burmistrov and I gathered spikelets from a harvested field. And then they were imprisoned for it. Someone denounced us - the police are coming, I have porridge cooked from fresh rye. While they were taking me to the police, I ate this porridge, only the pot was left. They drew up an act, maybe they would not have been imprisoned, but since they drew up an act, they must run away.

We took certificates from the place of residence and went to Kazan. Our entire family is the Devyataykins, and Devyatayev wrote to me in the certificate. Why? Our older brother joined the army in Tashkent and, so as not to be teased as a Mordvin, signed up as a Russian Devyataev. The second brother also signed up with Devyataev. When I came to the village council, they also wrote me a certificate with the name Devyataev, although I never hesitated to be a Mordvin. Devyataykin's father and mother, all the other brothers are also Devyataykin.

We arrived in Kazan, and at the station, when we fell asleep, we were robbed - we were left without crackers.

We went to the aviation technical school, but we didn’t have all the documents, they didn’t accept us. Let's go look at the boats. We looked, but we want to eat, we don’t have a piece of bread. We see - fishermen catch fish, and throw ruffs. And we are hungry, attacked these ruffs. One man saw and said something in Tatar. He sees, we don’t understand, and he says in Russian: “Why are you eating raw fish, come here.” He fed us, gave me money, I ran away, brought him a piece of vodka.

We see guys in uniform running. The fisherman says: "They are preparing them for these swans in the river technical school" and pointed to the steamers. We come to the river technical school to the director Marathuzin. Sorry, I don't remember my first name. If not for him, my fate would have been completely different.

He said that we were late, and it was August 11, that the acceptance of documents had already been completed. He looked at us - we are barefoot, clothes also barely cover the body - and says: "How will you study?"

A good man was Marathuzin. He let us try to take the exams. We went straight to chemo. Applicants huddled at the door, eavesdropping, we piled on top, and then, as the door abruptly opened, we three friends rolled head over heels into the classroom.

Chemistry was taken by Professor Mostachenko Anatoly Fedorovich. He says: "What kind of circus performance is this?" He looks himself, we are barefoot, in poor clothes. My shirt was made from a flag. And I removed the flag from the roof of the district executive committee.

And there, just at the blackboard, they wrote some kind of reaction and something was mistaken. The professor says to me: "Well, tell me, what's the matter here?" I say: "Here is an arithmetical error, but here he does not know the expansion." He gave me a five and my friends too.

We immediately go to the physicist Bogdanovich in the same impudent way. He says: "Where to? Wait your turn." I say: "We have no bread, nothing, and we are hungry. If we are not accepted, we will leave."

He looked, barefoot guys, asked something, and I knew physics well, I also put five. The Russian language was taken by Flera Vasilievna. I am writing an essay, she is looking over my shoulder, something is not working with me with the Russian language. I told her: "I finished seven classes, all the subjects were in Mordovian. I would write in Mordovian, but I don't know Russian." I'm lying myself, I only studied four classes in Mordovian, and classes 5-7 in Russian. She looked at my tiptoe legs and asked: "What about barefoot?" "But I don't have anything." "And they came to study? Well, okay, I'll give you a four with a minus, you don't even know a deuce."

We are happy to come to the director, and there Professor Mostachenko sits and tells how we came barefoot, and even did somersaults, besides, we know chemistry well. The three of us entered and stood like soldiers. "Have you eaten?" "They didn't eat." The director calls the cook, Uncle Seryozha: "There are hungry guys here. You will feed them, and they will cut firewood, chop, carry water for you."

Then Marat Khuzin called the supply manager and ordered us to settle in a hostel and give us mattresses. The supply manager says: "They don't have documents, how can I give them a mattress?" "Issue at my expense, I'm responsible for them."

They settled us in the last room with three more guys from Chuvashia. One of them, Ivanov, later became the head of the Cheboksary pier.

We became friends with Professor Mostachenko. He gave me boots, a jacket, then he made a demi-season coat. We were friends with the professor until his death. He died 8 years ago. I lived in a school, I didn't have an apartment. During the war, he was accused of having an Italian wife, was given the 58th article and deported to the Kemerovo region. When we met with him after the war, I began to visit him in order to give him moral support. Still, I was healthy, loaded firewood onto barges, earned a little and came to him with a bottle.

Mostachenko was actually a professor at the Institute of Chemical Technology. And river transport - he loved the river, he came to the Volga, looked, his ancestors were all captains.

My friends could not stand it, they left the first course. Misha Burmistrov finished 10 classes and got married. Killed at the front. Pasha Parshin graduated from the Orenburg anti-aircraft artillery school. He died in 1941 in a village not far from Mogilev. At that time I also visited this village, but we did not see each other.

In 1936, I met my future wife, Fauzia Khairullovna, then simply Faya. She studied at the river worker's school at Petrushkin junction, and on the second floor there was our common club. In the river technical school, the guys studied, and at the workers' faculty, mostly girls. Girls were allowed into the club, but there were no strangers.

I skied well, took first place in 10 kilometers, I was given a watch in the club. Then they arranged dances, I invited one beautiful girl to dance, and that's how we met Faya. I was 19, she was 16.

Then we went with her to the Zvezdochka cinema. I look at her, she put on her glasses. Faya could not see well, she was short-sighted. Then he went to see her off again. She was a Tatar, her parents lived in Kazan. I saw her off, they lived on Komleva. After that, we did not see each other for a long time, she was not at the dance. I went to her, it turns out that when they were sent to dig potatoes, she caught a cold. She was bandaged.

Fauzia Khairullovna: When Misha came to us, his parents saw him and everything, they liked him. The Tatars and I had suitors, there were all sorts, but he came, they, as they saw him, and that’s all ... Papa Misha saw only once, when he saw me off.

Mikhail Petrovich: Yes, I saw Khairulla Sadykovich only once, in the evening. I remember he came up and asked: "How are the youth doing?" I liked him.

Now I will tell you something that I have never told anyone before. I graduated from the flying club, became a public instructor, but I never finished the river technical school. I was then in practice an assistant to Captain Temryukov Nikolai Nikolaevich. There was a census in 1937. I corresponded with the workers of the sawmill in the Far Mouth.

Somehow Nikolai Nikolayevich led me to women. Then I told him: "Listen, we are young guys, we need young girls, and you brought me to the old woman." And with whom I was, the NKVD turned out to be. Nikolai Nikolaevich, take it and tell her when drunk. She was offended by the "old woman" and wrote a report, saying that I handed over the census materials to foreign intelligence.

Fauzia Khairullovna: Didn't have to climb.

Mikhail Petrovich: And they detained me right at the dance, I danced with Faya. They asked me to go out and talk to a black car. I was in the Pletenev prison. To those who interrogated, I say: "Listen, you say, I gave the Germans the census materials. Why do foreigners need lists of sawmill workers?"

I sat for six months. They searched for my documents, there are no documents anywhere. When I was released, I wrote a letter to the NKVD: "You are fascists, bandits, you are killing the innocent."

Went to the flying club. It turns out that our group of accountants all left for Orenburg to study as military pilots. I said goodbye to Faya and also went to Orenburg.

Fauzia Khairullovna: He comes down the mountain in river form, and I go towards him. "Hello". "Hello". Misha says: "Here, Faya, I'm leaving for the army." I say: "Well, go ahead." We have known each other since the age of 36, but we were friends only at dances, nothing happened.

Mikhail Petrovich: I was lucky in Orenburg, I met Mikhail Komarov, a piloting instructor, who took an exam in Kazan. I liked him then. He says: "Well, are you studying?" I say: "No." I'm not saying I was sitting.

He went and talked to the head of the school and I was accepted as a cadet, enrolled in a fighter group. I quickly caught up with everyone in my studies. It was already 38 years old, the month of May. They learned to fly and shoot on I-5 fighters in Blastovenka, at a summer airfield. We were 30 Kazan graduates sent to the Finnish front. They arrived, they just froze and that's it. And Mikhail Komarov died. We flew first on the I-15, then on the I-15bis.

On the Finnish front, the fighters had nothing to do, the Finns did not fly, there was no one to shoot down. I flew three times for reconnaissance and that's it. I only got frostbite on my face - 40 degrees on the ground, 50 degrees in the sky, and the cabin is open, not heated. I had ripples on my face from smallpox. When the face was frostbitten, some pockmarks disappeared. Then, when the Germans shot me down in 1944, my face was badly burned and the ripples completely disappeared.

After the Finnish in Torzhok, we moved to the I-16. A very tough plane. But maneuverable was amazing. From Torzhok we moved to Riga. From Riga to Mogilev. From Mogilev, I was sent to courses for flight commanders in Molodechno.

This is where the war began. On June 22, at 9 am, I already participated in an air battle over Minsk. My call sign was "Mordvin". I almost cried - my plane was all riddled. A day later, the Germans shot me down. We attacked the bombers, and they fired back. You shoot at a German, you shoot, and he flies. Their tanks were protected, two-layer, with liquid rubber. The bullet pierces the tank, but the gasoline does not flow out - the rubber closes the hole, the plane does not light up. And our tanks were simple, one bullet pierces the tank, gasoline starts to flow out, the second bullet sets fire to the plane and that's it.

According to my calculations, during the whole war I shot down 18-19 planes, although officially I have 9 German planes behind me. In 41, there were no film and photo machine guns, who would count. I then lost four planes. In August 1941 my plane was shot down by our Soviet pilot.

That's how it was. Yasha Shneer, a pilot of our regiment, did not fly well and was frankly a coward in battle. Another commander would have court-martialled him, but our regimental commander Zakhar Plotnikov was a good man and told me: "Misha, take Schneer, give him a boost. If anything, you have strong fists, pour him the right way." And then we were standing near Tula.

We flew to train. And then we were already flying the Yak-1. As a commander, I had two-way radio communication. I received a command from the command post to intercept a German Junkers-88 reconnaissance aircraft flying towards Moscow.

We intercepted the German, hit with two fighters. So Yasha shot down his first plane. I was very happy. Then, at one training session, while practicing a maneuver, he unsuccessfully turned and cut off one of my wings. I jumped out with a parachute, approaching the ground, I see, I'm flying right on the stakes, my hair stood on end. But lucky, I didn't run into it. We then flew over the village of Myasnoye.

But Yasha's parachute did not open. He hit the ground, all his bones were broken. When it was lifted, it stretched like rubber. In his pocket they found a silver cigarette case with an engraving "To my teacher and friend Mikhail Devyatayev." I lost this cigarette case.

The fifth plane, shot down, I brought to the part. But he himself was severely wounded in the leg, lost a lot of blood, flew to the airfield and, even before the wheels touched the ground, he was already turned off. Right on the wing of the plane I was transfused with the blood of my commander Volodya Bobrov.

I was sent to the rear. First to Rostov, then to Stalingrad. I received a letter from the unit that our regiment had been sent to Saratov for reorganization. When our ambulance train stopped in Saratov for a day, as they said, I got to the airfield, but ours were no longer there. I left the train. In the Saratov hospital, I underwent an operation and was sent to Kazan, to a special hospital for pilots. On the way, I stopped in Torbeevo, to my mother Akulina Dmitrievna.

Then in Ruzaevka I boarded the train "500 merry" Ruzaevka-Kazan. A lot of people rode it - they climb through the window and through the door - if you climbed in, you don’t go to the toilet to Kazan, you don’t go anywhere, even go under yourself. My mother gave me moonshine on the road. I drank the bottle and poured into an empty bottle. Like this.

On the train, I was already adopted. I met with the lieutenant of the medical service. It turned out that she and Faya studied at the medical school together. Also Tatar. She rode from the front in position, but in clothes it was imperceptible. So she wanted to marry me, or something, to herself. Brought to her home. Mom said, they say, my fiancé. Her aunt was married to General Alexandrov, head of the dance and dance ensemble of the Red Army. And when I felt this economy, I ran away from her on two crutches.

The hospital was in the cinema "Vuzovets". I went to Komlev to Faya, they moved, they don’t live here anymore. Then I went to the cinema "Electro". And there were dancing. I took a ticket to the cinema, well, where should I go to dance on crutches. Then he turned around, I saw two girls talking, a familiar voice. Then her friend Dusya says: "Something a soldier is looking at us." She turned. "Faya!" "Misha!" We met - we had not seen each other for almost three years.

"You," he says, "what have you come for?" "He came to his wife." "To which?" I pull out a crutch from behind my back, I say: "That's what kind of wife." "Where?" I say: "Here in the "Vuzovets".

I watched a movie, went out into the lobby, I see dancing there. Despite the fact that the war was, the dances continued, life went on as usual. I came, I sit there, they let me through without a ticket somehow. I see Faya dancing with the senior lieutenant. She moved away from the senior lieutenant and sat down next to me. And now we've talked. The dancing is over, I'm in the hospital, she's home. It turns out that they already lived on Chekhov. We went in one direction, the trams did not run, there was a lot of snow. We agreed to meet at the House of Officers.

They came to the House of Officers, and there was a pregnant doctor who wanted to marry me. They are in conflict with Faya. I stayed with Faye.

After the House of Officers, I gave up my crutches and walked only with a cane. It was hard to walk, but I was brave. It was January 42.

Then Faya once said: "Will you come to visit?" "I'll come." And so they came, Faya's mother, Maimuna Zaidullovna, my future mother-in-law, fried potatoes and sausages. Oh, oh, eating! She was a very good cook. Then he came again, a third time, then it started spinning like that. Then he stayed overnight. And then officially, how to go to the front, let's go, I say, Faya, take your passport with you. Went, signed, then photographed. I think that I will die at the front anyway, even though my legal wife will remain.

On November 29, 42, they left the registry office and took a picture. The photographer said: "The rarest couple." I was taken prisoner with this photo. The second photo was of Faya and her sister Lyalya.

For health reasons, I was sent to an air ambulance and I flew to Kazan several more times for Po-2 planes. Already visited his wife.

Although I was in the air ambulance, I also flew on bombing raids. Then he saved one general from the Germans. He gave me a gun.

In 1944 I finally became a fighter again. I accidentally met with my former commander Volodya Bobrov, already a colonel. Vladimir now flew with the famous Pokryshkin and in no time arranged for me to be taken to Pokryshkin too.

They retrained me for the American Cobra fighter. June 44th. There were terrible fights, every day there were two, three fights. Wet came, already on the lips the foam dried up with a crust.

In early July, we flew from Moldova to Lvov and Brody. On July 13, the attack began. At about 9 pm, and then the days were long, we flew to accompany the Ila attack aircraft. When they flew back, already at the front line from the command post, an order was received to return to such and such a square and meet the echelon of German bombers. An air battle ensued, there were Messerschmites, Focke-Wulfs.

From the cloud began to go up, felt pain. I look - "Focke-Wulf" is sitting on the tail. Apparently, when I slipped through the break in the clouds, he picked me up. I see Volodya Bobrov ahead on the climb, and my plane was engulfed in flames. I shout: "Beaver, point me to the east." He shouts: "Mordvin, jump, now you will explode."

I opened the door, and on the Cobra you pull the emergency handle and the door falls right on the fender. Either I hit the wing, or the stabilizer - the fact that I lost consciousness. How I landed, I don't know.

I came to my senses, I'm lying on the bunk. The Germans took all the documents, photographs of my wife, a pistol, orders - I had two orders of the Red Banner and two of the Patriotic War - they took everything. Face, hands burned, hurt.

In the camp near Brody, defectors who voluntarily went to the Germans wanted to beat us. Sergei Vandyshev, a major, an attack pilot from Ruzaevka, climbed onto a bale of incubator shavings and said: "I will burn everyone, myself and you." They left, otherwise they would have crippled us.

Then about ten pilots gathered us to take us to a special camp for Soviet pilots. We agreed that we would try to hijack the plane. What is there to capture, we were brought to the Junkers-52, our hands were tied behind us and laid on our stomachs. So we were taken to Warsaw, settled in a psychiatric hospital. There was such an orchard, there was a good harvest of apples. It was already August.

We have been processed. The general came, scolded the captain from the guard, they began to feed us well, handed out orders. They promised to give out weapons in case of good behavior.

My leg was knocked out, I could not run, and Sergei Vandyshev, Volodya Aristov, the son of the secretary of the Central Committee, tried, but could not. The other two ran at night. They let the dogs in after them and caught them.

The general arrived, swearing that they did not justify his trust. Security has been stepped up. Then they let the mentally ill women come to us, naked, doing things that you wouldn’t dream of even in a dream. And why are we, wounded, covered in blood, my face, my hands are burned, not before.

Then we ended up in Lodz, a camp for pilots. Himmler's brother was the commandant of this camp. Then 250 wounded, crippled pilots were transferred to the Kleinkenigsberg camp. There I met with my classmate from Torbeev Vasily Grachev, also a pilot, an attack aircraft. We dug through the barbed wire. We would have to run away right away, but we decided to dig under the commandant's office - take weapons and free everyone. The plans were Napoleonic, but we were caught.

Me, my friend Ivan Patsulu and Arkady Tsoun, as the organizers of the digging, were sentenced to death by firing squad and sent to the Sachsenhausen death camp.

This camp was built in 1936 near Berlin for German political prisoners. There were only 30 thousand workers in the "crinker command" (brick team).

We took clay, made balls so that not a single drop of earth would get there. The brick was very durable.

Then I was transferred to shoe testing. We were called "stompers". The newest shoes, the load behind - 15 kilograms. Walked all day. And then in the evening they measured and recorded how worn out the boots were, cleaned with wax. Same thing again in the morning. The norm is 250 grams of bread - 200 grams of camp and shoe companies added 50 grams. The shoes were good. Brown, black boots, with spikes, with horseshoes. It was necessary to walk - earth, asphalt, sand, shapeless marble slabs, then again sand, earth, and for the whole day you walk and walk on these stones. You can’t walk on asphalt, but on stone, on slabs it’s hard.

The Germans were very cruel. He may be a good German, but for helping us he ended up in a punishment cell, and the punishment cells for the Germans were worse than for us, so ...

I was lucky, some people replaced my number with another and said that from now on I am Ukrainian Stepan Grigoryevich Nikitenko, born in 1921, a teacher from Darnitsa, a suburb of Kiev. Apparently, this Stepan died recently and has not yet been registered. If not for these people, I would have got into the stove and out of the chimney as smoke would have come out.

They burned in the crematorium, God forbid. Look, a man has fallen, still alive. And there was a black box, four handles. They put him in there and drag him to the crematorium to burn him. You've fallen, you can't walk anymore. You are still breathing, you are still talking, and they are already dragging you to the crematorium. When we tested the galoshes, some people walk and walk, fall, they put it in a box and they make us carry it to the crematorium. That's all - the song is sung by this man, and you won't carry you there, too, with your butt.

Once again, I was lucky when the German anti-fascists transferred me from "tramplers" to housekeeping servants - to feed pigs, clean turnips and onions from gardens, prepare greenhouses for winter, carry firewood and food.

Once everyone was lined up and forced to walk naked in front of the commission - they selected those who had beautiful tattoos on their bodies. They were killed and lampshades, bags, purses, etc. were made from their skin.

About five hundred people, including me, were selected to work on the island of Usedom. In Sachsenhausen, there were no shepherd dogs inside, but in the camp at the airfield where we were brought, the shepherd dogs were so angry there, they ate people, they grabbed them right away and tore off shreds of meat. Oh, and the dogs are mean, I don't know how they trained the dogs.

Since 1935, a secret missile range has been located on this island. There were factory buildings, launch sites, an airfield, a catapult for guided missiles, various test stations for the Air Force, ground forces, and much more. Our camp and the whole center was called Peenemünde, after the name of the fishing village.

At first I worked on unloading sand, then I moved to the "bomb team". After the bombing, we pulled fuses out of unexploded bombs. Our team was fifth, the previous four had already blown up. The risk was great, but in those houses where we pulled out the bombs, it was possible to find food, eat to satiety, grab warm clothes. We searched for weapons, but did not find anything, however, sometimes we found both gold items and precious stones, which were supposed to be handed over to the Germans.

Every minute you wait, now you will be torn to pieces. I think I'll go crazy here and arbitrarily went to work in another group, the "planiren team". They sealed the craters on the runways after the bombing, masked the planes.

Little by little, a group of those wishing to escape formed. The plan was to fly home. The pilot is me. We looked after one "Heinkel-111" - it was always warmed up in the morning, fully refueled. From the junkyard they began to drag plates from dashboards, especially Heinkels. I looked closely, memorizing how the engines are started. So they prepared, waiting for the right opportunity.

But circumstances forced us to hurry. The fact is that for beating a snitch I was sentenced to "10 days of life." This meant that over 10 days I was to be gradually beaten to death. Most recently, my friend Fatykh from Kazan, who was transferred with me from Sachsenhausen, was beaten on the very first day of his “10 days of life”. He died in my arms and lay dead next to me until morning.

When I had two "days of life" left, we were able to carry out our plan - during the lunch break we killed the guard, took away his rifle, with great difficulty, but started the engines. I undressed to the waist so that no one could see the striped clothes, drove the guys into the fuselage and tried to take off. For some reason, the plane did not rise, it was not possible to take off, at the end of the runway, when I turned the plane back, we almost fell into the sea. Anti-aircraft gunners ran to us, soldiers, officers from everywhere. They probably thought that one of their pilots had gone crazy, especially since he was sitting naked.

The guys shout: "Take off, we will die!" Then they put a bayonet to the right shoulder blade. I got angry, grabbed the barrel of the rifle, tore it out of their hands, and as I went to scratch with the butt, I drove them all into the fuselage.

I think if we didn’t take off down the hill, we won’t go up anyway. I drove the plane to where I started the acceleration for the first time and began the second takeoff. The plane again does not obey. And there they just sat down from the combat mission "Dornier-214, 217", I think now I will crash into them, and then it dawned on me that the plane does not take off due to the fact that the trim tabs are in the landing position. "Guys, - I say - press here!" Still, three people piled on, overpowered. And just like that, almost miraculously, they took off. As they took off, they sang "The Internationale" in joy and released the helm, we almost crashed into the sea. Then I found the aileron and elevator trimmers, twisted them, the efforts on the helm became normal.

They flew in the clouds so as not to be shot down. Flying in the clouds on someone else's plane, when you do not understand the readings of the instruments, is very dangerous - several times I made breakdowns and we almost crashed into the sea, but everything worked out. Why the German fighters didn't shoot us down immediately after takeoff, one can only speculate, because they flew up very close. And then, when the clouds entered, I headed northwest, to Norway.

We flew to Sweden and turned towards Leningrad, there was a lot of fuel, I think we will fly. But I was so weak that I no longer feel the control and turned towards Warsaw, if only to fly to the front line. German fighters met again, they escorted some ship. I waved my wings just in time for them to see the yellow belly and the crosses.

Near the coastline we were heavily shelled. It's good that we were at a low altitude - due to the large angular movement, we were not hit. Then the Focke-Wulf began to approach us over the forest, I rather undressed again, and the guys hid in the fuselage, but then the anti-aircraft guns began to fire again and he was no longer up to us.

I began to throw the car to the left, then to the right and almost completely lost height. And there was a bridge across the river. Look, our soldiers. And right on the flight in the forest there was a clearing. I miraculously landed the plane, stuck it right in, and the landing gear broke off.

They took the machine gun and wanted to leave for the forest, suddenly the Germans were nearby. And we were completely exhausted, under the snow there was water, mud, our feet immediately got wet. We returned back.

Soon our soldiers began to run up: "Fritz, surrender!" We jumped out of the plane, ours, as we saw striped, only bones, no weapons, they immediately began to swing us, carried us in our arms. It was February 8th.

They see that we are hungry, they brought us to the dining room. They cooked chickens there, and we attacked. The doctor took away the chicken from me, I would overeat, hungry - and suddenly the chicken is fatty, you can’t immediately, you can even die. I then weighed less than 39 kilograms. One bones.

Five of us died - they were immediately sent to the troops, four survived. My vision deteriorated, I began to see badly. From the nerves, or something.

As the command learned that we had arrived from the missile center, I, as a pilot, was taken by some colonel to Lieutenant General Belyakov in Oldenberg.

I drew everything that I remembered, after all, a pilot, professional memory did not disappoint. He talked a lot about the launches of V-1 and V-2 rockets. I even had the opportunity, already in September, to talk with the future General Designer of Soviet spacecraft, Sergei Pavlovich Korolev. Of course, I didn't know who it was. He called himself Sergeyev. Then he sent a whole echelon from Germany with rockets, papers from the institute of the German rocket scientist Wernher von Braun. I told him about the underground plant in Peenemünde, walked with him through the shops. I had a chance to drink vodka with him.

And when I spoke to future cosmonauts, Sergei Pavlovich was also there. Then Gagarin had not yet flown.

Then I was told that it was Korolev who had signed the idea of ​​awarding me the title of Hero of the Soviet Union. But I only found out about this after his death.

And then, in 1945, when they asked me everything, they sent me to a collection point. Then we were taken on foot from Germany through Poland and Belarus to the Pskov region, to the Nevel station.

Brought to the lake. Forest around the lake. The gate, above them is written "Welcome", and around the barbed wire.

They say: "Dig your own dugouts." We made dugouts, cut hay, slept on hay. It was already cold in October. They are not allowed to go home, and it is impossible to correspond. Valuables, gold, precious stones were taken away.

After the flight, the guys brought me so many valuables. I remember the golden cross was like this, with rubies. They found a safe in Oldenberg, broke it, brought everything. I have so many diamonds. Whole box. The crosses were golden. Everything was stolen from me. I’m not greedy for gold things now, but even more so then. Guys from the village, who dealt with gold? We didn't care about all that.

There, in Nevel, former prisoners of war and Soviet women taken to Germany were kept. The Georgians guarded us. They were free, Stalin gave them freedom.

Then, nevertheless, in December they released me from the dugouts in Nevel. I was lucky, I didn't get jailed. Still, not all fools, although we have a lot of fools. In my papers, some clerk wrote "howitzer fighter artillery regiment."

This is how he deciphered the abbreviation GIAP - "Guards Fighter Aviation Regiment". I came to Kazan, came to the Sverdlovsk military registration and enlistment office, I say, I am a pilot, I have never been an artilleryman. The military commissar yelled: "March from here!" and kicked me out. That's how I became an artilleryman. Fauzia was already waiting. In 44, she received a paper that I was missing. She did not believe that I was dead, she went to a fortune teller. And I was able to write to her only in the summer of 45.

Fauzia Khairullovna: Of course, I hoped that Misha was alive. I guessed on the ring, the ring showed his face. I went to a blind fortuneteller, he said: "Live long, you will have three children, you will live like all families."

The paper stating that my Misha went missing is now in the museum. In June or July, a letter came from him that he was in the city of Nevel. It turns out that they were still written about in front-line newspapers, how they flew from captivity.

Mikhail Petrovich: I arrived safe and sound, but I can’t get a job in Kazan - as soon as they find out that I was in captivity, they immediately turn from the gate. In February 1946 he went to Mordovia. In Saransk refused in two places. I turned to a mechanical plant, where my friend, fellow countryman, fellow camper Vasily Grachev worked in the fleet as a mechanic or engineer. Together with him, we finished 7 classes in Torbeev. He was such a smart guy. He asked for me, but they refused me, and he himself, a combat officer-pilot, was expelled from the factory and imprisoned for 10 years for being a prisoner, for treason. He was in prison in Irbit. There he still lives. He became a shop manager, then worked in trade unions.

I went to Torbeevo. There he immediately turned to his childhood friend Alexander Ivanovich Gordeev, the third secretary of the district committee of the party. He received very well, invited me to visit him in the evening. I told how I was in captivity. He: "Misha, you will have a job." In the morning, as agreed, I come. "There is no work for you here. There is no Volga here, let's go to your place on the Volga."

I almost cried. I'm not offended by Gordeev. He reported to the first secretary, a fellow countryman, they say, let's get a job, the pilot was in captivity. And he: "There is no need for such." I say to my mother: "I have to get to the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet, to Comrade Shvernik, to explain what's the matter, why. I need to go to Moscow." And there is no money for a ticket.

I say to my mother: "Let's slaughter a goat, sell it, I'll be rich, I'll return it." She says: “What are you talking about, son. There are women who carry oil to Moscow. And crooks take both oil and money from them. And you are healthy, come on, go with them.”

The executive committee gave me a pass to Moscow. Women in the villages bought butter, even went to Bednodemyansk, then carrot juice was added for yellowness, everything was thoroughly mixed and frozen. Then on the train and to Moscow. And there by tram to the Sukharevsky market. I'm in shape, women are not afraid. While selling, I go back and forth, I look.

Then, at some sewing factory in the Moscow region, the women took white threads and paint. The thread was dyed and sold in bundles in Torbeev. It was very profitable, Mokshan women bought colored thread for embroidery.

I remember we walked for a long time somewhere along the ravines, along the glades, spent the night somewhere. They bought a whole bag of threads from someone, they must have been stolen. Then they gave me part of the thread. Mother sold.

That's how I earned money in two and a half months and came back to Kazan. They call the NKVD and ask: "What were you doing in Moscow?" I say: "My brother had it." "Is there a phone?" "Eat". Then they call again: "What are you lying about? You were spying. Your brother didn't see you for 3-4 months." And I wrote letters to different authorities, there were no answers. Then I stopped writing.

Fauzia Khairullovna: Every now and then they called me to the special unit, asked what he was saying. I say: "Nothing says." "Well, when you are alone with him, what does he say?" Then there was such a time, you had to think about what you were saying.

Mikhail Petrovich: Then, nevertheless, they took me to the river port, on duty at the station. Everything was, this captivity kept poking me. And from the age of 49 I already went as a captain on a boat. He was trained as a mechanic, passed with excellent marks, but did not receive a position. There were thirteen of us, everyone received an extra hundred rubles for filling the position of a mechanic, and only they didn’t give me one. The director of the backwater, Pavel Grigoryevich Soldatov, says: "We sent you there by mistake. You," he says, "were in captivity, say thank you that we are holding you."

After the 20th Congress of the CPSU, when Khrushchev debunked Stalin, the question of the former prisoners was put like this - traitors must be punished, and those who did not surrender themselves, who did not cooperate with the Germans, they must be rehabilitated, and their merits should be noted.

My Fai's brother, Fatih Khairullovich Muratov, he has already died, says to me: "Misha, let's write to Moscow about your fate." He worked in the Supreme Court of Tatarstan. I say: "I'm not going to write anywhere. How much I wrote after the war is of no use. Whoever needs me will find me himself."

The journalists were given the task of looking for remarkable people among the former prisoners. The head of the department of the newspaper "Soviet Tataria" Yan Borisovich Vinetsky also went to the military registration and enlistment offices. In our Sverdlovsk district military commissariat he was told that, they say, we have an artilleryman, he flew out of captivity on a German plane, brought 9 people.

Yan Borisovich and his friend Bulat Minnullovich Gizatullin, Literaturnaya Gazeta's own correspondent, decided to come and question me. Bulat Gizatullin was then the Minister of Culture of Tatarstan.

Fauzia Khairullovna: Ian Borisovich and I became friends and were friends at home. He was a good man. And we have known Bulat for a long time. He studied at the 15th school with my brother Fatih. Bulat and Yan came and knocked: "Does Devyatayev live here?"

Misha immediately blushed. It looks like his nerves are on edge. Yan Borisovich says: “I went to the military registration and enlistment offices. In the Sverdlovsk district military registration and enlistment office, the military commissar said that he had one, he wrote such an autobiography, here, he says, it’s generally nonsense - he says that he is a pilot, and he is an artilleryman. I, he says, read his autobiography , can it really be?"

And Yan Borisovich himself was a pilot, he fought in Spain. He and Bulat were friends and decided to come. It was 7 pm, October, '56. Misha was asked to tell. He sat down and talked from 7 pm to 6 am. The deceased's mother built the samovar five times.

He told me so, I myself, willy-nilly, sat in the same place where I would go, with such details as he had never told anywhere. He had such a state.

Then they invited the driver at 10 o'clock and he also sat, listening until the morning. Yan Borisovich asked such questions, yet he himself is a pilot. I gave my institute phone for communication. So our friendship began.

Then, a month and a half later, Yan Borisovich calls and says: "Tell Mikhail Petrovich that I got permission to go to the authorities and check."

Mikhail Petrovich: The matter reached Ignatiev, the secretary of the regional party committee. Yan Borisovich Vinetsky wrote a long article, I read it and checked it. Bulat said: "There is no need to go to Sovetskaya Tatariya, let's go to Moscow right away, to our Literaturnaya Gazeta, it will immediately go to the whole world."

Literaturka promised to publish an article about me on New Year's Eve. Then they moved it to the Day of the Red Army on February 23. Then a colonel from the DOSAAF magazine "Patriot" came to me: "Mikhail Petrovich, let's have a drink with you. They sent me to check Vinetsky's material."

Turns out they didn't believe it. I come to Yan Borisovich, he calls Moscow with me. They said that by March 8 it will definitely come out. Didn't come out. Then they say that March 23 will be for sure.

I come home, I say, tomorrow the article will be. I do not believe it myself, in the morning I went to the railway station. There I give the kiosk 10 rubles, and I take Literaturok for the entire amount.

I go home, the son of Lesha meets: "Dad, here's an article out!" What a joy it was.

The boss was immediately respectful. The director of the backwater calls to himself, expresses respect, says that the Minister of the River Fleet of the USSR Shashkov Zosim Alekseevich is waiting for me by the phone. And at that time I taught at courses in Arakchino. Junior specialists were trained there - helmsmen, minders, etc. That day was my last lesson. And it went, and it went. I was intercepted by Lieutenant Colonel Georgy Evstigneev from the editorial office of Soviet Aviation. We flew with him on an Il-14 transport plane to Moscow, to the Ministry of the River Fleet.

And the plane was carrying wine. The pilots, as soon as they found out who they were taking, immediately began to carry vodka, cognac. In general, when we landed in Moscow, Zhora and I did not know what to do, how to go to the minister in this form. We leave, they ask where Devyatayev is. I say he's there, in the cockpit. We catch a taxi and go home to Zhora. In the morning I woke up, let's wash my head with cold water, I think, how can I go to the minister with such a face.

The minister gathered everyone, told them about me, how I was expelled from work for captivity and said: "Let Mikhail Petrovich open the door to any of you in the office with his foot."

Wherever I was visiting then. They gave me money. Bought gifts, came home to Kazan.

When the Hero was appropriated, already in August, after Moscow, he went to Torbeevo. And in Moscow, I lived for a week at the dacha of Konstantin Simonov. We went fishing for mushrooms. He asked for so long. Then Volodya Bobrov and I met, my commander. And it turns out that he and Simonov lived on the same street in Lugansk.

Simonov arranged a banquet in my honor. They served oysters, Volodya would prick an oyster in my mouth, but I feel uncomfortable, the oysters squeak, and they, the devils, fellow writers, only devour. The banquet was God forbid. I think, let me find out how much Simonov will pay for the evening. And he took it, signed on a piece of paper and that's it. He was in the public account.

And they started traveling around the country, meeting people. I remember that in 1957 they invited me on a trip to Mordovia. We traveled with Deputy Minister of Culture Syrkin to different regions, performed in Saransk. Only in Germany I went dozens of times, many times I went there with Faya. Once, in 1968, the whole family, with children, went.

Fauzia Khairullovna: In my youth, I dreamed of becoming a historian, an archaeologist. I really loved history. But it turned out that my father died, and I was the oldest with my mother, after me there were three more. Mom is illiterate. Life was very hard and in 38 I went to study at a medical school. She graduated from college in 1939 and until her retirement she worked in one place - first as a laboratory assistant, then as a senior laboratory assistant at the Kazan Institute of Epidemiology and Microbiology.

When I was at school, we had the Tatar language in Latin script. That Tatar alphabet was called "yanalif". Even now it is easier for me to read on yanalif. I will be glad when the Tatars switch back to the Latin alphabet. My grandchildren are learning the Tatar language at school, they come, grandmother, how to write correctly, and now they write in Tatar in Russian letters and I'm confused - whether to write "e", or "e" to write. For me it is very difficult. It was good on Yanalife.

My mother's cousin's husband was the muezzin of the "Mergeni" mosque. Their daughter divorced her first husband, a Tatar, and married Uncle Petya, a Russian, a very good man. He died at the front.

So I was not the first in my family to marry a non-Tatar. Nobody ever reproached me for this. In general, we all loved Misha. My grandmother, my father's mother, she spoke excellent Russian, she told him everything about Kazan.

Mikhail Petrovich: She and I went to the city bathhouse together for ten years. We will come with her, there the Tatars take her to their place, wash her. And I go to the men's department, I'm worried. Then back home together.

Fauzia Khairullovna: She told us how the Czechs fired cannons at Kazan, how they captured it, how they then fled. She could tell about every house in Kazan. My mother did not speak Russian very well, then she learned. She was originally from the village of Chulpych, Sabinsky District. And my father was born in the village of Burtasy, Tetyush district.

Mikhail Petrovich: Both of our sons graduated from medical school. Alexey is a candidate of medical sciences. Alexander is a doctor of medical sciences. Nelli graduated from the Kazan Conservatory and teaches piano and music theory at the theater school.

The elder works as a surgeon at the military enlistment office. He has a daughter and separated from his wife. The daughter's name is Irina. The great-granddaughter's name is Nastya. Great granddaughter, Russian granddaughter. Aleksey is recorded in Russian, he knows the Tatar language perfectly. Alexander is recorded as a Tatar, but speaks Tatar worse. Daughter Nelly is also recorded as a Tatar.

Fauzia Khairullovna: Alexander's wife's name is Firdaus. She graduated from the Institute of Culture. Firdaus is very beautiful, when she was in Torbeevo, they said, well, just a Tatar princess. Their children: the eldest Alina, the second Diana. The eldest is 16 years old, studying in the 11th grade, the youngest is 14 years old, studying in the 9th grade. They speak Tatar perfectly - they grew up in the village near Firdaus, in Balikly, Tyulyachinsky district.

Nelly's husband Rustam Salakhovich Fasakhov works at the Department of Allergology at GIDUV. Their daughter Dina entered the first year of the Pedagogical Institute, studying English. They also have a son, Misha, 12 years old, and a younger daughter, Leila, 11 years old.

Nelly cried with us from the age of 4: "Buy me a piano, I want a piano." From the age of 6 she went to study at a music school. But first she entered the history department of the university. She finished two courses perfectly and could not stand it: "Mom, I made a mistake in my life, I have to go to the conservatory." Dad had to go and ask to be released from the university.

Mikhail Petrovich: I do not regret anything. We defended our Motherland, Fatherland. Now I have a family, a wife, children, grandchildren, a great-granddaughter already. What else does? And if we had not fought, we would have been scared, there would have been no one, we would have been slaves.

Of course, it cannot be said that everything in our family was smooth. It happened that a letter would come from some woman, Faya, let's be jealous. There were a lot of women pestering me, all kinds - both beautiful and in positions. Of course, a hero, a celebrity.

And I didn’t need anything but my three children. So not a single woman, even the most beautiful, had a chance. I have been married for 56 years and in the most difficult years my family, my children, my relatives were by my side.

We sit well! Visiting Mikhail Petrovich and Fauzia Khairullovna. Karim Dolotkazin is from Bolshaya Polyana, Kadoshkinsky district, and is proud of his famous countryman.

The legendary Soviet pilot Mikhail Devyatayev, who participated in the Great Patriotic War, became famous for his daring escape from under the noses of the German invaders.

For excellent work, the man was awarded the Order of the Hero of the Soviet Union.

Childhood and youth

Mikhail was born in the summer of 1917 in the working settlement of Torbeevo, which at that time was part of the Tambov province. He is a Mokshan by nationality. In addition to him, the family had 12 more children. Although life was difficult, the father of the family, Pyotr Timofeevich, worked all his life, he was a craftsman, he worked for the landowner. Mother Akulina Dmitrievna ran the household and raised the children.

Although Mikhail studied well at school, problems arose with the boy's behavior. But at one point his character changed. This happened after a meeting with a pilot who visited the village by plane. Seeing him, the young man asked how to get such a profession. To this, the man replied that you need to study, be brave, athletic and healthy.

From that moment on, Devyatayev devoted all his time to sports and studies, and after the 7th grade he went to Kazan to enter an aviation technical school. So in the biography of the young man, the story of the formation of the future pilot appears. When submitting an application to the school, Mikhail already imagined how he would begin to master the basics of aircraft control, however, due to confusion with papers, by mistake, he was enrolled in a river technical school, where he remained. But the guy's dream did not die out, so Devyatayev enrolled in an flying club in Kazan.

Sometimes he had to spend time until night in the engine or aircraft class of the club, and in the morning to run to classes at the school. And soon the day happened when the young man was in the sky for the first time. True, the first flight took place with an instructor, but this did not diminish Mikhail's impressions.

After graduating from the river technical school, Devyatayev enters the Orenburg Aviation School, this time the already matured man recalled as the happiest time of his life. When studying, he did not miss a single class, read a lot and trained hard. When the studies ended, the young man's childhood dream came true, he became a military fighter pilot. In his youth, he had to serve first in Torzhok, and later he was transferred to Mogilev.

By the beginning of the war, out of 12 children of the Devyatayev family, only 8 survived, and all contributed to the defense of the Motherland. 4 brothers of Mikhail died at the front, the rest of the children also died before reaching old age.

Military service

In June 1941, a man goes to the front, and 2 days later he opens a combat account by shooting down an enemy bomber diving near Minsk. Devyatayev also had other successful sorties. The pilot, along with other distinguished ones, is called to Moscow to defend the approaches to the capital.

In the course of another military operation on Yak-1 aircraft, pilots intercept the enemy, who was about to drop a deadly cargo on the capital. However, the man was not always so lucky. Once he received a military assignment, upon returning to Moscow, he was attacked by fascist bombers. One "Junkers" of the enemy was still shot down, however, Devyatayev's plane was also damaged. The pilot managed to land despite being wounded in his left leg. So Michael gets to the hospital, where he is being treated. And later, by the unanimous decision of the medical commission, he is assigned to low-speed aviation.

For some time, Devyatayev worked as part of a regiment of night bombers, then he was transferred to an air ambulance. And only in 1944, after meeting with A.I. Pokryshkin, the man returned to the fighter squad. After that, he more than once took his plane into the air, being in the rank of senior lieutenant, in total, Mikhail shot down 9 enemy planes.

In July 1944, the fate of Devyatayev is in the hands of the enemy. Making another sortie, a man shoots down a German plane in the west of the Ukrainian city of Gorokhov. In this dogfight, he gets injured and his plane catches fire. Leading pilot Vladimir Bobrov orders him to leave the air car by jumping out with a parachute. However, after completing the command, the man is captured.

Captivity and escape

Once in the hands of the Nazis, Devyatayev was sent to the intelligence department of the Abwehr, and later to the Lodz prison camp. All the time there was spent in bullying, torture and starvation, therefore, having teamed up with the POW pilots, the men plan an escape that did not take place.

After they were caught, the whole group was declared suicide bombers and sent to the Sachsenhausen camp. Everyone who ends up there with this status goes to certain death, but Mikhail managed to survive. Having bribed the camp hairdresser, Devyatayev convinces him to change the number on the robe, so he changed the status of a "suicide bomber" and became an ordinary "penalty man", who was no longer in danger of death.

Along with the man’s number, the name under which he goes to the island of Usedom has also changed. In this place, super-powerful weapons were created, which, according to the Nazis, should have helped them win the war, we are talking about ballistic and cruise missiles. People who got to this island did not return alive. Therefore, the prisoners are ripening the idea of ​​a new escape.

A group of 10 people, including Mikhail Devyatayev, spotted the planes at the nearby Pnemünde airfield. The Soviet pilot took over the piloting.

After the hijacking, a bomber was sent for the prisoners, tasked with shooting down the lone Heinkel. And although an experienced pilot sat at the helm, it was not possible to destroy the fugitives. And flying up to the front line, Devyatayev's plane was attacked by Soviet anti-aircraft guns.

Despite the difficulties, the man landed the plane on the territory of the Polish artillery unit. Mikhail rescued nine people and delivered strategically important information about a secret German center for the manufacture of rocket weapons. The man even provided the exact coordinates of the launch pads located along the coast. They were checked and confirmed, and later they attacked the island of Usedom from the air.

Like other prisoners of fascist Germany who returned to the territory of the Soviet Union, Mikhail Devyataev was placed in the NKVD check-filtration camp, and after the check was completed, he was sent to serve in the Red Army.

Later, the famous designer of the rocket and space industry of the Soviet Union tracked down Devyatayev and called him to the airfield from which he hijacked the plane. On the spot, Mikhail showed him where the missile assemblies were made and where they were launched from. For the assistance provided and the accomplished feat, in 1957 Devyatayev was awarded the title of Hero of the USSR.

At the end of hostilities, Mikhail returned to Kazan and already there began to develop a career in river navigation in the Kazan port. Already having a diploma as a captain of a ship, a few years later a man becomes a captain of a boat.

Personal life

Despite the difficult war and post-war years, the man's personal life has developed well. The pilot's wife was Faina Khairullovna, who gave birth to her wife of three children - two sons and a daughter. And although the marriage was strong, the woman was jealous of Michael. After all, when he became famous throughout the Soviet Union, women often wrote to him. Already at an advanced age, the man admitted that he would not have exchanged his wife for any other beauty.

In 1946, a woman gave birth to her first child, who was named Alexei. He chose medicine to study, worked in an eye clinic as an anesthesiologist, and later became a candidate of medical sciences. After 5 years, his brother Alexander was born, who also chose this area. The man worked at the Kazan Medical Institute and also became a candidate of medical sciences.

The daughter of the Devyatayevs was born in 1957. Nelya did not follow in the footsteps of her brothers; her talent was discovered in another area. The girl graduated from the Kazan Conservatory and taught music at the theater school.

After the war, Mikhail wrote the book "Escape from Hell", in which he described the most striking events of his stay in the German death camp, and also told the story of the escape itself. On the cover of the book there is a photo of Devyatayev, which is crossed by barbed wire.

Death

Until the last days, Mikhail Devyatayev lived in Kazan and, despite his health being undermined in the war, worked as long as his strength allowed. In the summer of 2002, he even came to the same airfield from which he had once escaped. They filmed a documentary film about the feat of a man.

In November of the same year, Mikhail Petrovich died, the exact cause of death is unknown, probably age (85 years) and concomitant diseases contributed to this.

In memory of the hero-pilot, more than one documentary film was shot during his lifetime and after his death. Among them are “Catch up and destroy”, “Not a fact. The feat of the Soviet pilot "and others.

Awards

• Order of the Hero of the Soviet Union
• The order of Lenin
• Order of the Red Banner
• Order of the Patriotic War
• Medal "For the Victory over Germany in the Great Patriotic War of 1941-1945"
• Zhukov medal
• Medal "For the Defense of Moscow"
• Medal "Veteran of Labor"
• Order "For Merit to the Fatherland"
• Honorary Citizen of the Republic of Mordovia

Grigory Alexandrovich Lyubimov, Professor of Moscow State University

On February 8, 1945, pilot Mikhail Devyatayev accomplished an unheard of feat - he organized the abduction of a German aircraft, lifted it into the air and took ten Soviet soldiers out of captivity.

In July 1944, the plane of an experienced pilot M.P. Devyataeva was shot down by a German fighter behind the front line. By order of the commander, Devyatayev jumped out with a parachute and was taken prisoner. In November 1944, he was transferred to a special prisoner of war camp that served the secret Peenemünde military base. New German rockets were tested here and V-2 rockets were launched from here towards England. At the base there was an airfield located on the seashore. The base and the airfield were under heavy guard.

Usually, prisoners of war were instructed to fill in the craters at the airfield and restore the runways. Performing this work, Devyatayev noticed that the Heinkel-111 twin-engine bomber, which belonged to one of the base leaders, was always standing on the field, ready for take-off. Dreaming of escape, he began to notice how the plane was being prepared for takeoff, and what actions the pilot performed before takeoff. Gradually, a plan was formed in Mikhail's head to hijack the plane and escape from captivity.

And on February 8, 1945, when all the personnel left the runway for a lunch break, Soviet prisoners of war kill the guard, start the plane and rise into the air. Realizing that there will be a chase, Devyatayev takes his plane north towards the sea, and only then turns east.

There was a panic at the base. Fighters were thrown in pursuit. They were looking for a hijacked plane along the coast and ... did not find it.

Imagine for a moment the situation in which this escape took place, and you will understand how much courage, self-control, ingenuity and skill you had to have in order to fulfill your plan. After all, Devyatayev was a fighter pilot and never flew a heavy aircraft. In addition, it was clear that the movement of the aircraft across the field would be instantly noticed by the guards and unexpected actions on their part were possible, etc. etc.

Having flown safely over the front line, the hijacked plane came under fire from our anti-aircraft artillery. At this time, Devyatayev realized that he must urgently sit down. However, all around were only muddy spring fields. Devyatayev decided to sit on the "belly" and successfully completed this maneuver.

It is easy to understand the amazement of the Soviet soldiers who approached the “fallen” plane when, instead of the expected German crew, they found ten “living corpses” in prisoner clothes on the plane, who could hardly move without outside help.

Having got to his own, Devyatayev informed the command of the exact coordinates and principles of camouflage of the Peenemünde base, and this made it possible to “level it to the ground” as a result of a five-day bombardment by our and Allied aircraft.

In terms of its design and the complexity of execution, Devyatayev's feat is unlikely to have analogues in military history.

Mikhail Petrovich Devyataev was born on July 8, 1917 in the working settlement of Torobeevo (Mordovia) into a working class family. He graduated from the River College and the Orenburg Aviation School. Since 1939 M.P. Devyatayev served in the army as a fighter pilot.

From the first day of the Great Patriotic War of 1941-45. pilot Devyatayev was at the forefront. For military successes in 1941, he was awarded the Order of the Red Banner. After the second wound in September 1941, he was transferred by a medical commission to "low-speed aviation" and until 1944 served in the air ambulance.

In May 1944, at the request of A.I. Pokryshkina Devyatayev was transferred to his regiment as a fighter pilot. Here he successfully fought until July 13, 1944, when, on the orders of the commander, he left the burning plane and was taken prisoner.

After a heroic escape from captivity on February 8, 1945, Devyatayev, who was suspected of espionage, ended up in a Soviet concentration camp, where he spent about a year. After the end of the war, Devyatayev was brought under guard to the former Peenemünde base to assist Soviet scientists and engineers who studied German enterprises that produced rockets and collected the remaining rocket parts for scientific analysis. Here he met S.P. Korolev, who later became the creator of Soviet missiles. It was at the request of S.P. Korolev in 1957 that the documents related to the heroic deed of M.P. Devyataev, and he was awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union, and his fellow escapees were awarded orders.

Since 1957 M.P. Devyatayev lived in Kazan, drove river boats, became a respected person - an honorary citizen of Kazan. M.P. Devyatayev died in 2002.

Such is the unusual fate of a simple Soviet warrior, one of those who endured all the hardships of the war on their shoulders and brought the Great Victory to our country.

Hero of the Soviet Union. The Hero, next to the Golden Star, has the Order of Lenin, two Orders of the Red Banner, Orders of the Patriotic War of I and II degrees, and many medals. Mikhail Petrovich Devyataev - Honorary Citizen of the Republic of Mordovia, the cities of Kazan, Wolgast and Tsinovichi (Germany).

Born July 8, 1917 in Mordovia, in the workers' settlement of Torbeevo. He was the thirteenth child in the family. Father, Petr Timofeevich Devyataev, a hardworking, artisan man, worked for a landowner. Mother, Akulina Dmitrievna, was mainly busy taking care of children. By the beginning of the war, there were six brothers and one sister alive. All of them participated in the battles for the Motherland. Four brothers died at the front, the rest died prematurely due to front-line wounds and hardships. Wife, Faina Khairullovna, raised children, now retired. Sons: Aleksey Mikhailovich (born in 1946), an anesthesiologist at an eye clinic, candidate of medical sciences; Alexander Mikhailovich (born in 1951), employee of the Kazan Medical Institute, candidate of medical sciences. Daughter, Nelya Mikhailovna (born in 1957), graduate of the Kazan Conservatory, teacher of music at the theater school.

At school, Mikhail studied successfully, but was excessively playful. But one day it seemed to be changed. This happened after a plane arrived in Torbeevo. The pilot, who seemed to be a sorcerer in his clothes, the fast-winged iron bird - all this conquered Mikhail. Unable to restrain himself, he then asked the pilot:

How to become a pilot?

You need to study well, - followed the answer. - Go in for sports, be brave, brave.

Since that day, Mikhail has changed dramatically: he gave everything to study and sports. After the 7th grade, he went to Kazan, intending to enter an aviation technical school. There was some kind of misunderstanding with the documents, and he was forced to enter the river technical school. But the dream of heaven did not fade away. She captured him more and more. There was only one thing left - to sign up for the Kazan flying club.

Michael did just that. It was difficult. Sometimes until late at night he sat in the aircraft or motor class of the flying club. And in the morning I was already in a hurry to the river technical school. One day the day came when Mikhail for the first time, albeit with an instructor, took to the air. Excited, beaming with happiness, he then said to his friends: "The sky is my life!"

This lofty dream led him, a graduate of the river technical school, who had already mastered the expanses of the Volga, to the Orenburg Aviation School. Studying there was the happiest time in Devyataev's life. He bit by bit gained knowledge about aviation, read a lot, and trained diligently. Happy as never before, he took off into the sky, which until recently he had only dreamed of.

And now the summer of 1939. He is a military pilot. And the specialty is the most formidable for the enemy: a fighter. First he served in Torzhok, then he was transferred to Mogilev. There he was lucky again: he ended up in the squadron of the famous pilot Zakhar Vasilyevich Plotnikov, who managed to fight in Spain and Khalkhin Gol. Devyatayev and his comrades gained combat experience from him.

But the war broke out. And on the first day - a sortie. And although Mikhail Petrovich himself failed to bring down the "Junkers", he, maneuvering, brought him to his commander Zakhar Vasilyevich Plotnikov. And he did not miss the air enemy, defeated him.

Soon Mikhail Petrovich was also lucky. Once, in a break in the clouds, a Junkers-87 caught his eye. Devyatayev, without wasting a second, rushed after him And in a moment he saw him in the crosshairs of the sight. Immediately fired two machine-gun bursts. The Junkers burst into flames and crashed to the ground. There were some more successes.

Soon those who had distinguished themselves in battle were summoned from Mogilev to Moscow. Mikhail Devyatayev, among others, was awarded the Order of the Red Banner.

The situation became more and more aggravated. Devyatayev and his comrades already had to defend the approaches to the capital. On brand new "yaks" they intercepted planes in a hurry to drop deadly cargo on Moscow. Once, near Tula, Devyatayev, together with his partner Yakov Schneier, fought with Nazi bombers. They managed to shoot down one Junkers. But Devyataev's plane was also damaged. However, the pilot managed to land. And he ended up in the hospital. Not fully cured, he fled from there to his regiment, which was already west of Voronezh.

On September 21, 1941, Devyatayev was instructed to deliver an important package to the headquarters of the encircled troops of the Southwestern Front. He fulfilled this order, but on the way back he entered into an unequal battle with the Messerschmitts. One of them was shot down. And he himself was injured. So he ended up in the hospital again.

In the new part, he was examined by a medical commission. The decision was unanimous - in low-speed aviation. So the fighter pilot ended up in a regiment of night bombers, and then in an air ambulance.

Only after meeting with Alexander Ivanovich Pokryshkin did he manage to become a fighter pilot again. It was already in May 1944, when Devyatayev found "Pokryshkin's farm". New colleagues greeted him cordially. Among them was Vladimir Bobrov, who in the autumn of 1941 gave blood to the wounded Mikhail Petrovich.

More than once Devyatayev lifted his plane into the air. Repeatedly, together with other pilots of the division, A.I. Pokryshkina fought with fascist vultures.

But then came the fateful July 13, 1944. In an air battle over Lvov, he was wounded, and his plane caught fire. At the command of his leader Vladimir Bobrov, Devyatayev jumped out of the plane engulfed in flames ... and was taken prisoner. Interrogation after interrogation. Then I was transferred to the intelligence department of the Abwehr. From there - to the Lodz POW camp. And there again - hunger, torture, bullying. This was followed by the Sachsenhausen concentration camp. And finally - the mysterious island of Usedon, where super-powerful weapons were being prepared, before which, according to its creators, no one could resist. The prisoners of Usedon are actually sentenced to death.

And all this time, the prisoners had one thought - to run, run at all costs. Only on the island of Usedon did this decision become a reality. Nearby, at the Peenemünde airfield, there were planes. And there was the pilot Mikhail Petrovich Devyatayev, a courageous, fearless man, capable of carrying out his plans. And he did, despite incredible odds. February 8, 1945 "Heinkel" with 10 prisoners landed on our land. Devyatayev delivered to the command strategically important information about the secret Usedon, where the rocket weapons of the Nazi Reich were produced and tested. There were still two days left before the massacre planned by the Nazis against Devyatayev. He was saved by the sky, in which he had been endlessly in love since childhood.

The stigma of a prisoner of war affected for a long time. No trust, no worthwhile work... It was depressing, giving rise to hopelessness. Only after the intervention of Sergei Pavlovich Korolev, the general designer of spaceships, who had already become widely known, did the matter move forward. On August 15, 1957, the feat of Devyatayev and his comrades received a worthy assessment. Mikhail Petrovich was awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union, and the participants in the flight were awarded orders.

Mikhail Petrovich finally returned to Kazan. In the river port he returned to his first profession - a riverman. He was entrusted with testing the first speedboat "Rocket". He also became its first captain. A few years later he was already driving high-speed "Meteors" along the Volga.

And now the war veteran can only dream of peace. He is actively involved in the veterans' movement, created the Devyatayev Foundation and provides assistance to those who need it most. The veteran does not forget about the youth, he often meets with schoolchildren and soldiers of the garrison.

The Hero, next to the Golden Star, has the Order of Lenin, two Orders of the Red Banner, Orders of the Patriotic War of I and II degrees, and many medals. Mikhail Petrovich Devyataev - Honorary Citizen of the Republic of Mordovia, the cities of Kazan, Wolgast and Tsinovichi (Germany).

As in his youth, he is fond of literature about aviation, about the exploits of our pilots.

What happenedFebruary 8, 1945can be safely called an amazing miracle and an example of incredible multiple luck. Judge for yourself.

Fighter pilot Mikhail Devyatayev was able to deal with the control of an enemy bomber completely unfamiliar to him, at the helm of which he had never sat before.

The security of the airfield could have prevented the hijacking of a top-secret plane, but it did not work out for her.

The Germans could simply block the runway, but did not have time to do so.

The fire of the air defense anti-aircraft guns covering the military base and the airfield could stop the escape attempt instantly, but this did not happen.

The German fighters could intercept the winged car flying to the east, but they also failed to do this.

And at the end of the heroic flight Heinkel-111 with German crosses on the wings, Soviet anti-aircraft gunners could shoot down - they fired at him and even set fire to him, but luck that day was on the side of the brave fugitives.

I'll tell you more about HOW IT WAS now.

After the war, Mikhail Devyatayev in his book "Escape from Hell" remembered it like this: “How I survived, I don’t know. In the barracks - 900 people, bunks in three floors, 200 gr. bread, a mug of gruel and 3 potatoes - all the food for the day and exhausting work.

And he would have perished in this terrible place, if not forfirst case of fateful luck - a camp hairdresser from among the prisoners replaced Mikhail Devyatayev with his suicide bomber patch on a camp uniform. The day before, a prisoner named Grigory Nikitenko died in Nazi dungeons. In civilian life, he was a school teacher in Kyiv Darnitsa. His sewn-in number, cut off by a hairdresser, not only saved Devyatayev’s life, but also became his pass to another camp with a “lighter” regime - near the town of Peenemünde, which was located on the island of Usedom in the Baltic Sea.

So the captured pilot, Senior Lieutenant Mikhail Devyatayev, turned into a former teacher, Grigory Nikitenko.

The development of German V-rockets was led by a talented engineer Wernher von Braun who later became the father of American astronautics.

The Germans called the military base Peenemünde, located on the western tip of the island Usedom "Goering Reserve" . But the prisoners had another name for this area - "Devil's Island" . Every morning, the prisoners of this devilish island received work orders. The airfield brigade had the hardest time: prisoners of war dragged cement and sand, kneaded the mortar and poured them into the craters from British air raids. But it was precisely in this brigade that the “teacher from Darnitsa Nikitenko” was eager. He wanted to be closer to the planes!

In his book, he recalled it this way: "The roar of the planes, their appearance, their proximity with great force stirred up the idea of ​​​​escape."

And Michael began to prepare an escape.

At the junkyard of wrecked and defective aircraft, Devyatayev studied their fragments, tried to delve into the design of unfamiliar bombers, and carefully examined the dashboards of the cockpits. Mikhail tried to understand how the engines are started and in what sequence the equipment should be turned on - after all, the time count during capture will go to seconds.

And here Devyataev lucky again. And it got lucky very funny : a noble German pilot, being in a good mood and in a good mood, CAM showed the wild barbarian and subhuman HOW the Aryan celestials start the engines of a flying machine.

It was like this, I quote the memoirs of Mikhail Petrovich: “The case helped trace launch operations. Once we were clearing snow at the caponier, where the Heinkel was parked. From the shaft I saw in the cockpit. And he noticed my curiosity. With a grin on his face - look, they say, a Russian onlooker, how easy real people cope with this machine - the pilot defiantly began to show the launch: they brought him up, connected the cart with batteries, the pilot showed his finger and released it right in front of him, then the pilot specially for me raised his leg to shoulder level and lowered it - one motor started working. Next - the second. The pilot in the cockpit laughed. I, too, could hardly contain my glee - all the phases of the Heinkel launch were clear ”...

While working at the airfield, the prisoners began to notice all the details of his life and routine: when and how the planes are refueled, how and at what time the guard changes, when the crews and servants go to dinner, which plane is most convenient for capture.

After all the observations, Mikhail chose Heinkele-111 with nominal monogram on board "G.A." , which meant "Gustav-Anton" . This "Gustav-Anton" took off on missions more often than others. And what else was good about it - after landing it was immediately refueled again. The prisoners began to call this plane nothing more than "our" Heinkel ".

February 7, 1945 Devyataev's team decided to escape. The prisoners dreamed: "Tomorrow at lunch we slurp gruel, and we have dinner at home, among our own."

The next day, in the afternoon, when the technicians and servants were drawn to lunch, ours began to act. Ivan Krivonogov neutralized the guard with a blow of a steel bar. Pyotr Kutergin took off his lifeless sentry overcoat with a cap and put them on. With a rifle at the ready, this disguised watchman led the "prisoners" in the direction of the aircraft. This is so that the guards on the watchtowers do not suspect anything.

The captives opened the hatch and entered the plane. Interior Heinkel Devyatayev, accustomed to the cramped cockpit of a fighter, seemed like a huge hangar. Meanwhile, Vladimir Sokolov and Ivan Krivonogov uncovered the engines and removed the clamps from the flaps. The ignition key was there...

Here is how Mikhail Devyatayev described this disturbing moment: “Pressed all the buttons at once. The devices did not light up ... there are no batteries! ... "Failure!" - cut to the heart. A gallows and 10 corpses dangling on it swam before my eyes.

But fortunately, the guys quickly got the batteries, dragged them on a cart to the plane, and connected the cable. The instrument needles immediately swung. The turn of a key, the movement of a foot, and one motor came to life. Another minute - and the screws of another engine were twisted. Both engines were roaring, but there was no noticeable alarm on the airfield yet - because everyone was used to it: "Gustav-Anton" flies a lot and often. The plane began to pick up speed and, accelerating, began to rapidly approach the edge of the runway. But the amazing thing is for some reason he could not get off the ground! ... And almost fell off a cliff into the sea. Behind the pilot there was a panic - screams and blows in the back: "Mishka, why don't we take off!?"

But Mishka himself did not know why. I guessed it only a few minutes later, when I turned around and went on the second attempt to take off. Trimmers were the culprit! The trimmer is a movable, palm-wide plane on the elevators. The German pilot left her in the "landing" position. But how to find the control mechanism for these trimmers in a few seconds in an unfamiliar car!?

And at this time the airfield came to life, vanity and running around began on it. Pilots and mechanics ran out of the dining room. Everyone who was on the field rushed to the plane. A little more - and the shooting will begin! And then Mikhail Devyatayev shouted to his friends: "Help!". The three of them, together with Sokolov and Krivonogov, they fell on the helm ...

… and at the very edge of the Baltic water Heinkel got his tail off the ground!

Here it is - another happy luck desperate guys - emaciated prisoners-walkers lifted a heavy multi-ton machine into the air! By the way, Mikhail found the trimmer control, but only a little later - when the plane dived into the clouds and began to climb. And immediately the car became obedient and light.

Only 21 minutes passed from the moment of hitting the head of the red-haired guard to leaving for the clouds...

Twenty-one minutes of strained nerves.

Twenty-one minutes of fighting fear.

Twenty-one minutes of risk and courage.

Of course, a chase was sent for them and fighter jets took to the air. To intercept, among other things, a fighter took off, piloted by a famous air ace - chief lieutenant Günter Hobom, the owner of two "Iron Crosses" And "German cross in gold". But, without knowing the course of the escaped Heinkel it could only be discovered by chance, and Günter Hobom did not find the fugitives.

The rest of the air hunters also returned to their airfields with nothing. In the first hours after the hijacking, the Germans were sure that British prisoners of war had hijacked the secret plane, and therefore the main interceptor forces were thrown in a north-westerly direction - towards Great Britain. So Fate once again favored Devyatayev and his comrades.

An interesting and very dangerous meeting took place over the Baltic. hijacked Heinkel walked over the sea to the southeast - to the front line, towards the Soviet troops. A caravan of ships moved below. And he was escorted from above by fighter jets. One Messerschmitt left the formation from the guard, flew up to the bomber and made a beautiful loop near it. Devyatayev was even able to notice the bewildered look of the German pilot - he was surprised that Heinkel flew with landing gear extended. By that time, Mikhail had not yet figured out how to remove them. And I was afraid that during landing there might be problems with their release. "Messer" the strange bomber did not shoot down, either because there was no order for this, or because of the lack of communication with the main command. So, it was another favorable combination of circumstances that day for the crew of Mikhail Devyatayev.

The fact that the plane flew over the front line, the fugitives guessed from three important observations.

First, endless convoys, columns of Soviet vehicles and tanks stretched on the ground below.

Secondly, the infantry on the roads, seeing a German bomber, ran up and jumped into a ditch.

And thirdly, by Heinkel hit our anti-aircraft guns. And they hit very accurately: the wounded appeared among the crew, and the right engine of the aircraft caught fire. Mikhail Devyatayev saved the burning car, his comrades and himself at the same time - he abruptly threw the plane into side slip and thereby shot down the flames . The smoke disappeared, but the engine was damaged. It was necessary to land quickly.

Runaways-from-Hell landed on a spring field at the location of one of the artillery battalions of the 61st Army. The plane plowed the bottom of most of the field, but still landed successfully. And in this successful landing on a melting February field on a machine that has not yet been mastered to the end with only one serviceable engine, there is a very great merit ... guardian angel Mikhail Devyataev. Clearly, it could not have done without the Higher Forces!

Soon the former prisoners heard: "Fritz! Hyundai ho! Surrender, otherwise we will shoot from a cannon! But for them, these were very dear and dear Russian words. They have replyed: “We are not Fritz! We are ours! We are from captivity ... We are our own ... ".

Our soldiers with machine guns, in sheepskin coats, ran up to the plane and were stunned. Ten skeletons in striped clothes, shod in wooden shoes, spattered with blood and mud, came out to them. Terribly thin people cried and constantly repeated only one word: "Brothers, brothers..."

The gunners carried them to the location of their unit in their arms, like children, because the fugitives weighed 40 kilograms ...

You can imagine what exactly happened on the devilish island of Usedom after a daring escape! At that moment, a terrible commotion reigned at the missile base in Peenemünde. Hermann Goering, having learned about the emergency in his secret "Reserve", stamped his feet and yelled: "Hang the guilty!"

The heads of the perpetrators and those involved survived only thanks to the saving lie of the head of the department for testing the latest technology, Karl Heinz Graudenz. He told Goering, who arrived with the inspection: "The plane was caught over the sea and shot down."

I repeat once again - at first the Germans believed that Heinkel-111 taken by British prisoners of war. But the truth was revealed after an urgent formation in the camp and a thorough verification: 10 Russian prisoners were missing. And only a day after the escape, the SS service found out: one of the fugitives was not a school teacher Grigory Nikitenko at all, but pilot Mikhail Devyatayev from the division of Alexander Pokryshkin.

For hijacking a secret plane Heinkel-111 with radio equipment for field testing of ballistic missiles V-2 Adolf Hitler declared Mikhail Devyatayev his personal enemy.

The British for two years, starting in 1943, bombed the island of Usedom and its facilities, but the thing is that most often they "fought" with a false airfield and sham planes. The Germans outwitted our allies - they skillfully camouflaged a real airfield and rocket launchers with mobile wheeled platforms with trees. Thanks to the fake groves, the secret objects of the Peenemünde base looked like copses from above.

last rocket V-2 with serial number 4299 took off from launch pad No. 7 on February 14, 1945.

More German missiles from the Peenemünde base did not rise into the air.

The main merit of Mikhail Petrovich Devyatayev to our Motherland is that he made a great contribution to the development of Soviet rocket science.

Firstly, (As you already know) the plane he hijacked Heinkel-111 had unique missile flight control equipment V-2.

And secondly, he showed the Peenemünde base several times Sergei Pavlovich Korolev- the future general designer of Soviet missiles. Together they walked around the island of Usedom and examined its former secrets: launchers V-1, launch pads V-2, underground workshops and laboratories, equipment abandoned by the Germans, the remains of rockets and their components.

In the 1950s, Mikhail Devyatayev tested hydrofoil river boats on the Volga. In 1957, he was one of the first in the Soviet Union to become the captain of a passenger ship of the type "Rocket". Later drove along the Volga "Meteors" was a captain-instructor. After retiring, he actively participated in the veterans' movement, often spoke to schoolchildren, students and working youth, created his own Devyatayev Foundation, and provided assistance to those who especially needed it.

P.S.