כדי לשחזר את השיר בשפה המקורית אם אינו מופיע לאחר לחיצה על שם השיר המסומן כאן בקוו תחתון או כדי למצוא גירסות נוספות העתיקו/הדביקו את שם השיר בשפת המקור מדף זה לאתר YOUTUBE
To restore the song in the original language if it does not appear after clicking on the name of the song marked here with a bottom line or to find additional versions Copy/Paste the song name in the original language from this page to the YOUTUBE website
התרגומים לאנגלית נעשו באמצעות המנוע "מתרגם גוגל" והתרגום הועתק לאתר בצורתו המקורית ללא עריכה נוספת
The English translations were done using the "Google Translate" engine and the translations were copied to the site in their original form without further editing.
Notes written by Izzy Hod: This song captivated an entire generation of youth, the youth movements in Israel and the Palmach, in the 30s to the 50s of the 20th century. The name of the song comes from the first line, of the first stanza, of the song. The correct translation, of the title of the song, in the original is, In a dig, and it would be more correct to translate it, In a excavation and because of the doubts, the Hebrew translator, Shimon Mansky, chose to use the first line, of the first stanza, Let the fire flicker in the fire place, as the name of the song. Mansky himself, referring to his translation in his letters, called the poem "excavation". Mansky's translation is accurate and many other versions written for the poem contain quite a few inaccuracies. The poet Alexey Alexandrovich Surkov, who was a newspaper reporter during World War II, participated in a visit in November 1941 as a journalists, in the village of Kashino, not far from Moscow. He was caught up in a day of hard fighting, which included, a short-range grenade battle, a retreat through a minefield and crossing a frozen river, on thin ice. At night, under the weight of the experience, he wrote a rhyming letter to his wife, about his feelings and emotions from that day. In February 1942, in the Pravda editorial at the front, Surkov was asked, by the composer Konstantin Yakovlevich Listov, if he had any texts for the composition. Surkov, remembered that emotional letter to his wife and reproduced for Listov, sixteen lines from it. After about a week Listov returned, borrowed a guitar from the photographer Mikhail Sabin and played Surkov the song, which he had read, in the dugout. The next day, when Sabin sang the song, accompanied by the guitar, Surkov realized that there was a hit here. The reporter Yevgeny Vorobiev and the photographer [guitarist] Mikhail Sabin performed the song on the Komsomolskaya Pravda editorial and the song was published in this newspaper on 25.3.1942. The path of the song was not easy. In the eyes of the commissars, it was considered decadent and not patriotic enough. Surkov was asked to change the lines, The road to you is difficult, but death is four steps. Surkov did not do this and the song was forbidden to be played in law, but in fact it was no longer possible to prevent it from the lips of the soldiers, who sang it on all fronts. The song was translated into Hebrew for the first time, by Avraham Shlonsky, for the play Present to the soldier in the Broom theater in 1944. Shlonsky called it, in a dugout. The song was played in the play, but was not recorded. At the same time, the poem was translated by Shimon Mansky, a member of Kibbutz Eilon. He called the song, in a dig and the song was taken up and sung in the name, which is its first line; Let the fire flicker in the fire place. For the same melody, in the camp in Cyprus, Yosef Goldblum wrote words that are not a translation. His poem is called, prisoner. The song, Let the fire flicker in the fire place [in a dugout, in a trench], was written in 1942 and was very common among Russian soldiers in World War II. These are the words in which the poet, Alexey Surkov, described how the song was born, during my rather long life in the world of literature, I was lucky enough to write several songs, which were composed and became popular songs. All these songs - both those written before the war and those born during the Great patriotic war - aimed at the heart of those who defended or are defending the honor and independence of their socialist homeland and kissed them in their hands. How did these songs come about? Everyone in their own way. But they have something in common - they were written as poetry for personal reading and reading to the audience and then, when a melody was written for them, they became poems. I will tell you the story of a song that was born at the end of November 1941 after one very difficult day for me at the front near the city, Istra, the song, Let the fire flicker in the fire place. If I'm not mistaken, it was the first lyrical song born from the flames of the Great Patriotic War, and matched what the fighters on the front and those who waited in the rear for the soldiers to return from the war, felt in their hearts. That's how it was. On November 27, we, the reporters of the newspaper of the Western Front, "Krasnoarmeyskaya Pravda", and a group of employees of the political administration of the Western Front, arrived at the 9th Guards Rifle Division to tell its soldiers and commanders about our new mission, to write and document the fighting deeds of the warriors and their heroism. In the afternoon, after we left the divisional command post, we went by truck to the command post of the 258th Rifle Battalion [Guardsmen No. 22] of this division, which was located in the village of Kashino. It was at the exact moment that German tanks, moving in a valley near the village of Darny, cut off the division's command post from its fighting battalions. It was getting dark fast. Two of our tanks, while spraying snow to the sides, went towards the forest. The fighters and commanders who remained isolated in the village, gathered in a small dugout, under the command of the battalion commander, Lt. Col. M.A. Sukhanov. It was crowded in the small dugout, there was no room left, for us, and we decided to hide from mortar and machine gun fire on the steps leading to the dugout. The Germans were already in the village. They settled in two or three houses that survived and from there they fired at us continuously. - Well, what? Are we sitting idly in the dugout? - said the battalion's chief of staff, Capt. I.K. Valychkin. After talking something with the battalion commander, he turned to everyone in the dugout: - Come on, whoever has "pocket guns" [hand grenades], come on!...After I collected a dozen and a half hand grenades for him, including two of the "lemons" [hand grenades] which I kept just in case...Captain Valychkin, fastened the belt on the padded jacket and left the dugout. Give me cover - he erupted in no time. We immediately opened fire on the Nazis. And Valychkin crawled. Pulled out grenades. An explosion, another explosion, and the first house with the Nazis fell silent. It became quiet and then the brave Captain Valychkin crawled into the second house, then into a third house. Everything repeated itself, as according to a previously set scenario. The enemy fire subsided, but did not stop completely. When Captain Valychkin returned to the dugout, it was almost dark. The battalion commander had already left it along with the command post that had changed its location. We who remained in the dugout also began to retreat to the river in an organized manner. We climbed the ice under mortar fire. The Nazis didn't let us even when we were already on the opposite bank. The frozen ground we reached was scattered everywhere from mine explosions, and hit the helmets on our heads. We finally arrived at the village, Ulianbo, and only then did the commander of the engineering unit who was there tell Lt. Col. Sukhanov that we had passed through our own minefield...Lt. Col. Sukhanov, a brave and cold-hearted man, turned pale this time and explained, if any of us had stepped on a mine... There was nothing left of us. So, when we got a little more to the new place to which we retreated, Captain Valychkin, the one who threw grenades at the enemy submachine guns, sat down and began to eat soup, he dropped the spoon and the full plate and fell asleep. The man did not sleep for four days. And when the communication system was restored and a phone call came from the brigade headquarters, we could not wake him up, no matter how hard we tried. Inhuman pressure these people bore in the war! And just because they were like that, they could not be intimidated in any way and by anything. Impressed by what I experienced that day near the city, Istra, I wrote a letter to my wife, who then lived on a river, Kama. It contained sixteen lines of "personal" poetry, which I did not intend to publish, and even less to pass on to someone who would write music... The poems Let the fire flicker in the fire place would have remained only a part of the letter, had it not been for the fact that in February 1942 the composer, Konstantin Listov, would not have arrived in Moscow from the evacuation to which he was sent during the war and would not come to our system at the front afterwards and would not even ask me at a meeting in the editorial office "something you could write a poem about?" and then, luckily, I remembered the poems I had written to my home from and during the war, I found them in my notebook and after copying them cleanly, I gave them To Listov, absolutely sure that even though I have cleared my conscience, a song with a melody will not come out of the song, Let the fire flicker in the fire place. Listov ran his eyes over the lines, mumbled something indistinct and left, disappeared for a few days and everything was forgotten. But a week later, the composer appeared again in our editorial office, asked the photographer, Mikhail Sabin, for a guitar and sang his new song, calling it, The dugout, The trech". Everyone in the room, with bated breath, listened to the song. Everyone thought the song was successful. The sheet music remained in our hands and in the evening Misha Sabin, after dinner, asked me for the words and, accompanied by his guitar, sang the song again. It immediately became clear that the song "will go" and the melody will be remembered by everyone forever from the first time anyone sings or hears the song. The song really "went". On all fronts - from Sevastopol to Leningrad and Poliarny. However, it seemed to some of the morale guards of the front line that the paragraph: "... It is not easy for me to reach you, and it is four steps to death" was decadent, they asked and even demanded that the paragraph be deleted or changed. But I was horrified by the idea of changing the words - they very accurately conveyed what was experienced in reality, what was felt there, in the battle, and it was too late to spoil the song, it "went" beautifully. And it is known among poets, "You cannot delete a word from a poem". In contrast, the warriors at the front found themselves encouraged by the song. In my messy army archive there is a letter signed by six tank fighters who, after saying words congratulating the song and its authors, they wrote that they heard that someone did not like the line "to death - four steps". But it did not deter them. There are reports from those days that a version of the song without the lyrics, and there are four steps to death, was heard on some radio stations, but the outrage over these broadcasts caused the apparently corrected version to disappear. The literal description of the words of the song is as follows, Fire is flashing in a small stove, On the logs there is dew, like a tear. And the accordion sings to me in the dugout about your smile and your eyes. Bushes whispered to me about you, In the snow-white fields near Moscow. I want you to hear how my living voice yearns. You are now far, far away, between us there is snow and snow. It's not easy for me to reach you, and to death are four steps. Sing, harmonica, in spite of the blizzard, call the lost happiness. I'm warm in the cold dugout, From my unquenchable love.
In the dugout. Music by K. Listov, lyrics by A. Surkov(1942). Performed by: N. Timchenko, accordionists A. Shalaev and N. Krylov. In the dugout. At the end of the autumn of 1941, the 78th Rifle Division of the 16th Army, which was defending Istra, received the name of the 9th Guards Division, in connection with which the Political Directorate of the Western Front invited correspondents of Krasnoarmeyskaya Pravda to cover this event; among others, Alexei Surkov also went. On November 27, journalists first visited the headquarters of the division, after which they went to the command post of the 258th (22nd Guards) Rifle Regiment, located in the village of Kashino. Upon arrival, it turned out that the command post was cut off from the battalions by the advancing German 10th Panzer Division, and enemy infantry was approaching the village itself. The mortar shelling that began forced the officers and journalists to sit in the dugout. The Germans occupied the neighboring houses. Then the chief of staff of the regiment, Captain I.K. Velichkin crawled towards the buildings, throwing grenades at the enemy, which caused a weakening of the enemy shelling and made it possible to make a breakthrough. Having safely passed the minefield, everyone retreated to the river and crossed it over the still thin ice - under renewed mortar fire - to the village of Ulyashino, in which the battalion was stationed. When Surkov got to his own, his entire overcoat turned out to be slashed by shrapnel. Then he said: “He did not take a step further than the headquarters of the regiment. Not a single one ... And there are four steps to death. ” After that, it only remained to add: “It’s not easy for me to reach you...”. After arriving in the village, staff officers and correspondents were placed in a dugout. Everyone was very tired - so much so that, according to Surkov's memoirs, the chief of staff Velichkin, having sat down to eat soup, fell asleep after the second spoon, as he had not slept for four days. The rest settled down near the stove, someone began to play the accordion to relieve tension. Surkov began to make sketches for a reportage, but it turned out to be poetry. In February 1942, the composer Konstantin Listov came to the editorial office of the Frontovaya Pravda newspaper, where Surkov also began working, looking for lyrics for songs. Surkov remembered the poems he had written, drew them up cleanly, and gave them to the musician, in his own words, confident that nothing would come of it. However, a week later Listov returned to the editorial office and, taking the guitar from the photojournalist Mikhail Savin, performed a new song, calling it "In the dugout". Those present approved the composition, and in the evening Savin, having asked for the text, sang the song himself: the melody was remembered from the first performance. The writer Yevgeny Vorobyov, who worked at Frontline Pravda, copied the notes and text and, together with Mikhail Savin, brought them to the editorial office of Komsomolskaya Pravda. There they sang a song (Vorobiev sang, and Savin accompanied); listeners liked it and was published in the issue of the newspaper on March 25, 1942. Soon the song went along the front. It was performed by soldiers, front-line creative teams, including it entered the repertoire of the famous Lidia Ruslanova. Often the last line is performed in the variant "From your unquenchable love." During the war, in some performances, the lyrics of the song looked completely different: after the first two verses (without changes), not two followed, but four. There were also several response songs. Natalya Surkova recalled that her father, during one of the feasts, was indignant: “People sing:“ It’s warm in my cold dugout / From your unquenchable love, ”but I have it written“ from mine ”!”. To this, his wife answered him: “Here, Alyoshenka, the people corrected you.” Text. Fire beats in a cramped stove, Resin on the logs, like a tear. And the accordion sings to me in the dugout About your smile and eyes. The bushes whispered to me about you In the snow-white fields near Moscow. I want you to hear how my living voice yearns. You are now far, far away, There is snow and snow between us. It's not easy for me to reach you, And there are four steps to death. Sing, harmonica, in spite of the blizzard, Call the entangled happiness. I am warm in a cold dugout From my inextinguishable love.
In the dugout (non-canonical version). Music by K. Listov, lyrics by A. Surkov .(1942) Performed by Agitation Platoon of the Army House of the Red Army led by A. Vladimirtsov. Soloist K. Simonov. In the dugout. Song history (beginning). In the summer of 1942, an unspoken ban was announced for the song “In the Dugout”, since someone from above the lines “it’s not easy for me to reach you, but four steps to death” were regarded as decadent. In August, gramophone records with a song performed by Lidia Ruslanova were seized and almost completely destroyed. The poet was recommended to remove references to death - Surkov refused. Then the Main Political Directorate imposed a ban on broadcasting the song on front-line radio and its performance by creative teams. The poet received a letter from six guards-tankers with the following request: “Write for these people that there are four thousand English miles to death, and leave it to us as it is, because we know how many steps there are to it, to death” . Nevertheless, "optimistic" changes in the song were made - without the knowledge of the author (there is a statement that they were carried out by Konstantin Simonov). Soon the ban was "turned a blind eye". In the end, the song "In the dugout" sounded at the walls of the defeated Reichstag and at the Brandenburg Gate. Text. Fire beats in a cramped stove, Resin on the logs, like a tear. And the accordion sings to me in the dugout About your smile and eyes. The bushes whispered to me about you In the snow-white fields near Moscow. I want you to remember How my living voice yearns. You are far away now. Between us are forests and meadows. It's not easy for me to reach you-The blizzard swept all the roads. Sing, harmonica, in spite of the wind, Call the entangled happiness. It became warm in our dugout From my unquenchable love. I am the love that is in the soul, like a beacon I will carry through melancholy and battles, To see, my dear, Your happy tears are for me. And the harmonica, as if in response, sings the Song of a joyful meeting, As if you are sending greetings, As if you are whispering my name.
words-November 1941 music-February 1942 We can't forget these wards. This is one of the most popular and most human songs of the Great Patriotic War (and in general, one of the best songs created in the Soviet era). Moreover, on the other side of the trenches, the soldiers also preferred not patriotic hymns, but the "anti-war" song "Lily Marlene"-no matter how pumped the nations patriotism, and they still sang about the usual: about love, about the house, about the end of the war. As a result, both "Earth" in the USSR, and "Lily Marlene" in Germany tried to ban to execution ("Earth"-for the phrase "And to death four steps"). But the fighters continued to sing them. It was a member of Lydia Ruslanova's repertoire. The poem was written by Alexei Surkov in the autumn of 1941 at the front as a letter to his wife-Sophie Krevs, without a title. Surkov did not count on publication. However, in 1942 Konstantin Listov, the author of "Songs of The Tachanka", decided to put the text on the music. There are front-line folk reworks of the song-see "I heard the song with longing...", "The fire is in a tight stove..." (climbing).
Alexey Surkov (1899-1983) Memories of Alexei Surkov: HOW TO WORK FOR MY long life in literature I was very happy to write a few poems that were transferred to music and became popular songs, losing the name of the author. These songs include "Chapayevskaya," "Konarmeiskaya," "That's not clouds, storm clouds," "Early-early," "Lilac blossoms," "Song of the Bold," "Beats in a cramped stove fire..." and some others. I will tell the story of the song, which was born at the end of November 1941 after one very difficult front day for me near Istra. This song "Beats in a close stove fire...". If I am not mistaken, it was the first lyrical song born from the flame of The Great Patriotic War, accepted both by the heart of the soldier and the heart of those who had been waiting for it since the war. And it was like that. On November 27, we, the correspondents of the newspaper of the Western Front "Krasnoarmeyskaya Pravda" and a group of employees of the Political Administration of the Western Front arrived in the 9th Guards Rifle Division to congratulate its fighters and commanders on the newly assigned guard rank, to write about the combat affairs of the heroes. In the afternoon, after passing the command post of the division, we jumped on a truck on the KP 258th (22nd Guards) Rifle Regiment of this division, which was located in the village of Kashino. It was just at the moment when German tanks, passing a ravine near the village of Darna, cut off the command post of the regiment from the battalions. It was getting dark. Two of our tanks, tossing snow dust, went towards the forest. The remaining fighters and commanders in the village lost their way in a small dugout, equipped somewhere on the outskirts of the KP near the commander of the regiment, Lieutenant Colonel M.A. Sukhanov. I was not left with a photojournalist and someone else who had arrived in the dugout, and we decided to hide from mortar and automatic fire on the steps leading to the dugout. The Germans were already in the village. After sitting in two or three surviving houses, they shot at us continuously. "Are we going to sit in the dugout anyway?" Captain I.K. Velichkin, chief of staff of the regiment, said. Talking about something with the commander of the regiment, he appealed to all who were in the dugout:-Well, who has "pocket artillery", come on! Having collected a dozen and a half hand grenades, including taking away and I have two of my cherished "lemons" that I have to find just in case, the captain, tightening the belt on his body, came out of the dugout. up! He briefly threw. We immediately opened fire on the Nazis. Velichkin crawled. Grenades. Explosion, another explosion, and the house became quiet. Then the brave captain crawled to another house, then to the third. Everything was repeated, as according to a pre-written scenario. Enemy fire was gone, but the Germans did not let up. When Velichkin returned to the dugout, he almost died. The commander of the regiment was already coming out of it: the KP changed its location. All of us began to go to the river in an organized way. They were crossing the ice under mortar fire. The Nazis did not leave us with their "mercy" even when we were already on the opposite bank. From the ruptures of mines, the frozen ground flew in all directions, hurting the helmets. When we entered the new village, it seems Ulyanovo stopped. The worst was here. The head of the engineering service suddenly says to Sukhanov:-Comrade Lieutenant Colonel, and we have passed on our minefield! And then I saw that Sukhanov-a man who usually did not lose his presence of spirit for a second-turned pale like snow. He knew that if someone had stepped on the moustache of a mine during this departure, none of us would have survived. Then, when we got a little settled in the new place, the chief of staff of the regiment Captain Velichkin, the one who threw grenades on enemy machine guns, sat down to eat soup. Two spoons ate and, look, dropped a spoon-fell asleep. The man had not slept for four days. And when the phone call came from the division headquarters-by that time the connection was restored-we could not wake the captain, no matter how hard we tried. Inhuman tension was endured by people in war! And only because they were like that, they could not be intimidated. Impressed by the experience of this day under Istra, I wrote a letter to my wife, who was living on Kama at that time. There were sixteen "home" poems in it, which I was not going to publish, much less to pass on to anyone to write music...My poems "The fire in a close oven" would remain part of the letter, if in February 1942 did not come to Moscow from the evacuation, did not come to our front-line edition composer Konstantin Listov and did not ask "something that you can write a song." And then, fortunately, I remembered the poems written back home, found them in a notebook, and, having rewritten it completely, gave the list, being absolutely sure that although I had cleared my conscience, but the songs from this lyrical poem would not come out. Leaf ran through his eyes through the lines, washed something vague and left. He left, and everything was forgotten. But a week later the composer reappeared in our editorial office, asked the photojournalist Mikhail Savin for a guitar and sang his new song, calling it "In the dugout". Everyone, free from work "to the room," holding his breath, listened to the song. Everyone thought the song turned out. The leaf is gone. And in the evening Misha Savin asked me for the text after dinner and, accompanying the guitar, performed the song. And it was immediately clear that the song would "go" if the melody was remembered from the first performance. The song really "went." On all fronts-from Sevastopol to Leningrad and Polar. Some guardians of front-line morality thought that the lines: "...It's not easy for me to reach you, and to death-four steps -decadent, disarming. They asked and even demanded that the death be crossed out or pushed further away from the trench. But I was sorry to change the words-they very accurately conveyed what was experienced, felt there, in battle, and to spoil the song was too late, it "went". And, as you know, "you can't throw a word out of a song." The warring men were aware of the fact that the song was "wise". In my messy army archive there is a letter signed by six guardsmen-tankists. Having said a good word to the address of the song and its authors, the tankers write that they heard that someone does not like the line "to death-four steps". The Guards expressed such a caustic wish: "You write for these people that to death four thousand English miles, and leave us as it is-we know how many steps before it, to death." The poet Olga Bertholz told me such a case during the war. She came to Leningrad on the cruiser Kirov. The cruiser officers gathered in the cabin and listened to the radio broadcast. When the song "In the dugout" with an "improved" version of the text was performed on the radio, there were exclamations of angry protest, and people, turning off the reproducers, defiantly sang three times in its true text. Here's a short story about how the song "In the dugout" developed. From the collection "Istra, 1941."
Eli Sat: According to the website Как сложилась песня, the song В Землянке ("In the trench") was written: The poet Alexei Sorkov, who was a journalist during World War II, participated in a November 1941 press visit to a front not far from Moscow. At night, after a hard day of fighting, he wrote his wife a letter about his feelings and emotions from that day. In February 1942 in the "Pravda in the Front" system, Surkov was asked by composer Konstantin Listov if he had lyrics to compose. Surkov recalled the same emotional letter and reproduced sixteen lines from it. Surkov was asked to change the lines: "The road to you is difficult, but to death four steps." Sorkov did not do so and in theory the song was banned from playing, but in fact could no longer be stopped. The song the soldiers sang on all fronts.
Additional refernces update
https://web-archive-org.translate.goog/web/20100305155054/http://www.9may.ru/songs/m1612?_x_tr_sl=ru&_x_tr_tl=en&_x_tr_hl=en&_x_tr_pto=sc
Songs of the Roads of War. In the dugout, Vladimir Kalabukhov, The history of the birth of the song "In the Dugout" tells the Yaroslavl composer and musicologist retired Colonel Yuri Evgenievich Biryukov (born 1935). He is the author of the book "Songs Scorched by War", hosted the TV show "Song Far and Near". Today he has more than 40 thousand stories of military songs of different centuries and these songs themselves in a multi-volume anthology. The poem of the poet Alexei Alexandrovich Surkov (1899 – 1983) was first published in the newspaper "Komsomolskaya Pravda" on March 25, 1942. The author of the music is Konstantin Yakovlevich Listov (1900 – 1983), the first popular performer is Lidia Andreevna Ruslanova (1900 – 1973). About this song after the war wrote touching poems another poet - Evgeny Andreevich Nefyodov (1946 - 2010): Oh, the dugout near the airfield! In the sea of snow is an island of warmth: Gray stacked logs, Blue smoky haze, The floor at the door is frost painted ... And suddenly it seemed to me, as if I had seen it all before! But where? In a movie or in a dream? Now, taking off his rifle at the entrance, My father will sit down at the light. Before the Victory - three difficult years, All - through a lead blizzard. He's still a guy, my age, Same twenty-fifth year. And to him the harmonium, just like in the song, About the smile and the eyes sing...He will smoke a cigarette, sitting closer to the fire, And to this song, echoing it, His first poems will be written by the One who will become my mother...And this song - "In the dugout" - according to the fair statement of its author, the poet Surkov, was destined to become the first lyrical song created during the Great Patriotic War, "unconditionally accepted both by the heart of a fighting soldier and the heart of those who waited for him from the war." The soulful, sincere, longing voice of the poet Surkov merged in that difficult, harsh time with the voices of all those separated by the war. "The poem from which this song was born arose by chance," Surkov recalled. - It wasn't going to be a song. And it didn't even pretend to be a printable poem. These were sixteen "home" lines from a letter to his wife, Sofia Antonovna (Krevs). The letter was written at the end of November, after one very difficult day for me on the front near Istra, when we had to fight our way out of the encirclement with the headquarters of one of the Guards regiments at night after a heavy battle. Meticulous researchers of the poet's work accurately name the day when that memorable battle took place on the outskirts of Moscow - November 27, 1941, and the part in which the correspondent of the newspaper "Krasnoarmeyskaya Pravda" of the Western Front, Battalion Commissar Alexei Surkov found himself and took the fight - the 258th Regiment of the 9th Guards Rifle Division. It was his defensive positions that were suddenly attacked by the 10th Panzer Division of the Nazis. The fight was hard. "The enemy rushed east through Kashino and Darna along the road parallel to the Volokolamsk highway," testifies one of the heroes of the Battle of Moscow, the former commander of the 9th Guards, twice Hero of the Soviet Union, Army General Afanasy Pavlantyevich Beloborodov (1903 - 1973), - fascist tanks broke through to the road and cut off the regimental headquarters, located in the village of Kashino, from the battalions. It was necessary to break out of the encirclement. All staff members had to take up weapons and grenades. He became a fighter and a poet. Brave, determined, he rushed into the inferno of battle. An old, brave soldier withstood the battle test with honor, together with the regimental headquarters broke out of the enemy encirclement and got ... into a minefield. It was really "four steps to death", even less...After all the troubles, frozen, tired, in an overcoat covered with shrapnel, Surkov spent the rest of the night sitting over his notebook in the dugout, at the soldier's iron stove. Maybe then his famous "Dugout" was born - a song that entered the people's memory as an integral companion of the Great Patriotic War ... And now again the word to the poet: "These poems would have remained part of the letter," he continues his memories, "if somewhere in February 1942 the composer Listov, appointed senior music consultant of the Main Political Directorate of the Navy, had not arrived from the evacuation. He came to our front-line editorial office and began to ask for "something to write a song on." "Anything" was missing. And then, fortunately, I remembered the poems written home, found them in a notebook and, having copied them completely, gave them to Listov, being absolutely sure that although I had cleared my comradely conscience, but the song would not come out of this absolutely lyrical poem. Sheets ran his eyes over the lines, blurted out something vague and left. I left, and everything was forgotten. But a week later, the composer reappeared in our editorial office, asked the photographer Mikhail Ivanovich Savin (1915 - 2006) for a guitar and sang his new song "In the Dugout" with a guitar. All those who were free from work "in the room", holding their breath, listened to the song. It seemed to everyone that the song "came out". Listov is gone. And in the evening Misha Savin after dinner asked me for the lyrics and, accompanying himself on the guitar, sang a new song. And it immediately became clear that the song "will go" if an ordinary consumer of music remembered the melody from the first performance ... The "premiere" of the song in the editorial office of "Frontovaya Pravda" was also attended by the writer Yevgeny Zakharovich Vorobyov (1910 - 1990), who worked then in the newspaper. Immediately after "Dugout" was performed, he asked Liszt to record its melody. There was no musical paper at hand. And then Listov, as he had to do more than once in those conditions, lined an ordinary sheet of paper and recorded the melody on it. "With this musical notation and with a guitar," said Yevgeny Zakharovich, "Misha Savin and I went to the editorial office of Komsomolskaya Pravda, where I worked for several years before the war. We were lucky: on that day one of the traditional "Thursdays" was held, to which artists, writers, composers were invited through the efforts of an employee of one of the departments of Komsomolka Efim Rubin. We took part in it and showed "Dugout". This time I sang, and Mikhail Ivanovich accompanied me. I liked the song very much, and it was immediately accepted for publication in the newspaper. So on the pages of Komsomolskaya Pravda, look for its very first publication. I did so, and in the archive of the editorial office of Komsomolskaya Pravda I found the issue of the newspaper for March 25, 1942, in which the song "In the Dugout" was first printed - the words and a melodic line. It just so happened that this publication was almost the only one in the first years of the war. The fact is that some "guardians of front-line morality" considered the lines "It is not easy for me to reach you, and four steps to death" decadent, disarming. They demanded that they be crossed out, replaced by others, and that death be "pushed away from the trench." But it was too late to change anything, that is, to spoil the song, it, as they say, "went". But it is known: "you can't throw words out of a song." "The fact that they are 'wise' with the song," Surkov concluded, "the warring people were investigated. In my messy army archive there is a letter signed by six tank guardsmen. After saying a few kind words to the song and its authors, the tankers write that they heard that someone does not like the line "four steps to death": "Write to these people that there are four thousand English miles to death, and leave it to us as it is – we know how many steps to it, to death." Even during the war, Olga Fyodorovna Bergholtz (1910 – 1975) told about such a case. She came to Leningrad on the cruiser "Kirov". The officers of the cruiser gathered in the wardroom and listened to the radio broadcast. When "In the Dugout" with an "improved" version of the text was performed on the radio, there were cries of angry protest and people, turning off the loudspeaker, defiantly sang the song with its original text three times. Tireless propagandists of "Zemlyanka" during the war were the remarkable Soviet masters of song Lydia Andreevna Ruslanova and Leonid Osipovich Utyosov (1895 - 1982). Lydia Andreevna recorded it in August 1942 on a gramophone record along with the Blue Handkerchief. However, this recording was not replicated. Only recently it was possible to find its so-called test impression. And now the record with this song in a unique Ruslan interpretation is released by the company "Melody". They sang "In the Dugout" and numerous front-line ensembles. She performed it in her hiking trips with concerts for soldiers and Klavdiya Ivanovna Shulzhenko (1906 - 1984). This song was also remembered in the performance of Mark Naumovich Bernes (1911 - 1969). Evidence of the extraordinary popularity and wide distribution of the song at the front and in the rear are the numerous "answers" to it. Variants of them are also found in letters sent by listeners on the radio: "The wind, the blizzard sweeps and sweeps ...", "I read a letter from you ...", "Days run in a restless river ...", "Disperses the smokehouse darkness ...", "I heard the voice alive ..." and many others. According to their number, only the equally famous "Katyusha" by Matvey Isaakievich Blanter (1903 - 1990) and Mikhail Vasilyevich Isakovsky (1900 - 1973) can argue with "Zemlyanka". And nowadays this song remains one of the most expensive and beloved, it sounds at the campfire, at the soldier's halt. In the DUGOUT Beats in a tight stove fire, On logs tar like a tear, And sings to me in the dugout armony About your smile and eyes. The bushes whispered about you to me In the snow-white fields near Moscow. I want you to hear, How longing my voice is alive. You're far, far away now. There is snow and snow between us. It's not easy for me to get to you, And it's four steps to death. Sing, harmonica, blizzard annoyance, Lost happiness call. I'm warm in the cold dugout From my unquenchable love. Songs of the roads of war should not be forgotten. They were sung by our fathers and grandfathers, they were listened to by our mothers, waiting for news from the front, waiting for the return of husbands and sons to their homes. Many years have passed since that distant and difficult time. Long live the Great Victory! On the Internet, you can watch and listen to the song "In the Dugout" in many performances. There are tracks and video clips of the first propagandists of this soulful song: – Mark Naumovich Bernes, People's Artist of the RSFSR; - Lydia Andreevna Ruslanova, Honored Artist of the RSFSR (recorded in 1943); – Leonid Osipovich Utyosov, People's Artist of the USSR; - Claudia Ivanovna Shulzhenko, People's Artist of the USSR (one of the folk versions of the song's lyrics). Watch the video and listen to the song "In the Dugout", for example, performed by Bernes: http://azclip.net/video/fvzMYmmNX3A/------.html. Based on materials of Internet sites. Return to the content of the collection "Songs of the Roads of War" - http://www.proza.ru/2015/02/16/1876 2015 – 2020. © Copyright: Vladimir Kalabukhov, 2015, Certificate of Publication No. 215021501924
Soundtimes.ru. In a dugout (Fire beats in a cramped stove ...). The songs of the Great Patriotic War are one of the most reliable and therefore invaluable chronicles of the harsh days that befell our long-suffering people. Having absorbed a comprehensive historical truth, they recreated the life of a person in the most dramatic circumstances and entered the people's memory as compositions that reflect the sizzling power of people's anger and call for a merciless struggle. A good example of this is A. Aleksandrov's iconic song " Holy War " . However, there were other compositions in which the homesickness sounded heartfelt, as well as thoughts about the most intimate and dear. These include the famous " Blue handkerchief " and "In the dugout" - a song that was composed at the very beginning of the war by the poet Alexei Surkov and the composer Konstantin Listov. Read the history of the creation of the song " In the dugout ", as well as interesting facts, text and content of the composition on our page. Short story. In June 1941, when the fascist hordes treacherously attacked our country, the entire Soviet people, in complete unity, stood up as an indestructible wall to defend their beloved Fatherland. Among those who in those difficult days were overwhelmed with a sense of patriotism was the famous poet and journalist Alexei Aleksandrovich Surkov. He was well aware that his profession in such a harsh time is in great demand, since it is military journalists who should tell people the whole truth about what is happening on the battlefields. Already in the first days of the war, Surkov, having volunteered for the front, was sent by a military commissar to the newspaper Krasnoarmeyskaya Pravda. Alexey Alexandrovich Surkov. At the very beginning of the war, despite the stubborn resistance of the Soviet Army, the Nazi troops, striving eastward sparing no effort, came close to Moscow in November, where they ran into a "steel defensive wall." Fierce battles went on for every village, grove and even a meter of land. The 78th Rifle Division, which was transferred near Moscow to the area of the city of Istra from the Far East, distinguished itself with special courage and heroism in these harsh November days. She was introduced into the 16th Army by Lieutenant General Konstantin Rokossovsky. For the courage and steadfastness of the personnel shown in the bloody battles, the command decided to assign the honorary title of the 9th Guards Division to this valiant tactical unit. To maintain the morale of the soldiers, such an important event had to be covered in the military press, and therefore the employees of the Political Directorate of the Western Front were ordered to call the military correspondents of the Krasnoarmeyskaya Pravda newspaper to the front line. Invited journalists, among whom was the poet Alexei Surkov, visited the headquarters of the heroic division on November 27. Their editorial task was to congratulate the personnel of the unit on being awarded the honorary title, but most importantly, to collect material about the brave deeds of the valiant soldiers of the illustrious division and write a newspaper article based on it. To do this, the military correspondents, together with staff officers, went by truck to the village of Kashino, where the command post of the 22nd Guards Rifle Regiment was located. Having reached their destination, the journalists and the staff officers accompanying them learned that they were surrounded. German tanks with their accompanying infantry broke through to the village and thus cut off our battalions from the command post. Enemy soldiers, having occupied neighboring houses, began an intensified shelling of the dugout, in which the arrived reporters, staff officers and privates took refuge. The incessant mortar and automatic fire forced our commanders to make an important decision: everyone had to take up arms and break out of the encirclement. Russian ingenuity made it possible to draw up a plan, and courage to carry it out. One of the officers began to quietly approach the houses in which the enemy sat down, and, to weaken the shelling, he began to throw grenades at them. Enemy fire decreased, and those who sat in the dugout managed to get out. They slipped to the river and on its thin ice, under heavy fire, crossed to the other side, and then, not even suspecting that they were walking through a minefield, stubbornly, knee-deep in snow, made their way to our positions located near the village of Ulyashino. Everything that happened, for military officer Surkov, could be called a baptism of fire, and the proof of this was his overcoat cut by shrapnel. Those who left the encirclement, tired and chilled, were placed in a dugout, which was comfortably warmed by a small iron stove. To relieve fatigue and tension, someone picked up an accordion, someone immediately fell asleep, and the military commander Surkov tried to sketch a future article in his shabby notebook, but instead of a draft report, the journalist began to give birth to poems in which, turning to his beloved wife Sofya Krevs, the poet told about what he had to endure. So four stanzas appeared, which soon became the famous song, beginning with the words “Fire beats in a cramped stove." Soon after arriving in Moscow, the poet finalized his sentimental "home" sixteen-line poem, entitled "To you, my sun!" children in evacuation in the city of Chistopol. Perhaps Alexei Surkov's poems about the dugout would have been lost in the family archive or, at best, would have been published in some poetry collection, but the fate of this work was completely different. Two and a half months later, in the apartment of Alexei Alexandrovich, who at that time was sent to work in the newspaper Frontovaya Pravda, the phone rang. In the receiver, the poet heard the voice of his good friend, the composer Konstantin Listov, who was passing through Moscow to a new duty station. He was appointed to the position of Senior Musical Adviser to the Main Political Directorate of the Navy. In a friendly conversation, Konstantin Yakovlevich asked Surkov for some text for the song. Alexey Alexandrovich was at first very puzzled, because at that time he was engaged only in front-line reporting, however, so as not to upset his friend, the poet tensed up and remembered the poems addressed to his beloved wife. Having made an appointment at the editorial office of Frontovaya Pravda, Surkov immediately warned the composer that he had something, but it was unlikely that anything good would come of it. At the appointed hour, Listov received the desired sheet with a poetic text, and after reading it, he was struck by the emotionality and sincerity of the lyrical lines. Konstantin Listov. Without saying anything to Surkov, the composer left, but a few days later he returned to the editorial office. He asked the military correspondents for a guitar and sang a new song, which he called "In the dugout." All those present listened to the composition with bated breath, and then forced Konstantin Yakovlevich to write down the melody. In the evening of the same day, photojournalist Mikhail Savin turned to Surkov with a request to give the text of the newly heard song. He remembered the melody after the first performance, and having received the verses, he immediately sang sincerely to the guitar accompaniment "Fire is beating in a cramped stove ...". This was a good sign, saying that the song would soon become not only famous, but also gain great popularity. However, the writer Yevgeny Vorobyov, who was also present at the premiere performance of the composition, contributed to this well. Hoping to be published he and photojournalist Mikhail Savin decided to take the copied text and melody of the song "In the dugout" to the newspaper "Komsomolskaya Pravda". The journalists were pretty lucky, as they got to one of the creative "Thursdays", to which writers, poets, composers and artists were invited. Having taken part in this event, Vorobyov and Savin performed "Dugout" and received favorable reviews. However, soon the song had ill-wishers who saw a gloomy-pessimistic mood in a clean and bright composition about love. They didn’t like the line “it’s not easy for me to reach you, but four steps to death.” They even tried to force Alexei Surkov to rewrite these words, but the poet categorically refused. Then "In the dugout" was banned: it was no longer broadcast on the air and the recording made by Lidia Ruslanova was destroyed. However, nothing could prevent the popularity of the song, because it was successfully passed from mouth to mouth, but indignant letters nevertheless began to arrive from the front. After such reviews, behind the scenes, without the knowledge of the author, but by order of the guardians of front-line morality, changes were made to the words of the song, in which the mention of death was removed. It is worth noting, For the first time throughout the country on the radio, the song "In the Dugout" was performed in 1954 by a talented artist and singer, front-line soldier Mikhail Novozhikhin. Subsequently, many popular pop singers included in their repertoire, but the performance of Dmitry Hvorostovsky and Alla Pugacheva was especially memorable. Interesting Facts. During the Great Patriotic War, in addition to Alexei Surkov, such famous writers as Musa Jalil, Konstantin Simonov, Mikhail Sholokhov, Alexander Tvardovsky, Arkady Gaidar, Vasily Grossman, Boris Zakhoder, Boris Lavrenyov, Mikhail Matusovsky, Boris Polevoy served as war correspondents. The poet Konstantin Simonov dedicated his famous poem “Do you remember, Alyosha, the roads of the Smolensk region” to his friend, war correspondent Alexei Surkov. There is also an assumption that it was Simonov who made those optimistic changes to the text of the song "In the dugout", which were angrily received by the front-line soldiers. Inquisitive researchers of the work of the poet Alexei Surkov found out that the very dugout in which the poet wrote the poems underlying the famous song was dug by the brothers Vladimir and Mikhail Kuznetsov, who lived with their mother Agrafena Osipovna Kuznetsova in the village of Kashino, located 4 km from the outskirts city of Istra. At the present time, only a small depression remains on the site of the famous dugout and a memorial plaque dedicated to the song "In the dugout" has been installed. The song "In the Dugout" was immediately introduced into her repertoire by the outstanding performer of Russian folk songs Lidia Ruslanova. Already in April 1942, she sang it to the soldiers of the 2nd Guards Cavalry Corps, commanded by Major General Vladimir Kryukov. The composition performed by Lydia Andreevna so touched the heart of the general that a romantic relationship began between them, which was legalized in July of that year. The song "In the Dugout" was of particular importance for Ruslanova, and therefore, despite all the prohibitions, she sang it throughout the war and even at victorious concerts in defeated Berlin. In 1946, Alexei Simonov was awarded the Stalin Prize. Among the works for which the poet was awarded such a high award was the song "In the dugout". The popularity of the song "In the Dugout" was so great that many different alterations were invented on its basis, for example, songs-answers to a soldier at the front, which began like this: "I am reading a letter from you ...", "I heard a living voice ...", "Wind, blizzard sweeps and sweeps." One of these responses at front-line concerts was sung by Claudia Shulzhenko. In addition, the composition was translated into various foreign languages. The fact that the poem "Aleksey Surkov's "Fire is beating in a cramped stove ..." was appreciated by the fact that it was included in such representative poetry collections as" Three centuries of Russian poetry "," 500 pearls of world poetry "and" Stanzas century." "In the dugout." This lyrical composition is considered to be one of the most penetrating and touching works created during the Great Patriotic War. It is perceived as a sincere declaration of love coming from the soul, because the lyrical hero, and in this case the poet himself, who survived the hardest battle and is four steps away from death, is explained in a letter in tender feelings to his beloved woman. Resting in a dugout with a stove in which fire is beating, he recalls with warmth and tenderness the smile and eyes of a loved one, but at the same time, with sadness and longing, he talks about the fact that they, dear to each other people, were separated by war and separated by a huge distance. . Nevertheless, hope, fidelity and the warmth of unquenchable love help two hearts that are dear to each other to overcome all difficulties. This soulful composition, which includes four verses, has a very expressive melodic line, which is written in a minor key. It is presented in three beats, and therefore the song sounds like a heartfelt waltz, touching the most hidden strings of the soul. " In the dugout ". This composition, created at the very beginning of the Great Patriotic War, immediately won not only the hearts of the soldiers who fought heroically defending their Motherland, but also those who selflessly waited for them in the rear. It was perceived as a lyrical confession and a real declaration of love, because in addition to slogans and calls, people in those harsh years lacked tender feelings, as well as a quiet and affectionate word. Copying of materials is allowed only with a link to the site page. Copyright © 2020 soundtimes.com.
HISTORY OF THE SONG "ZEMLYANKA" Oct. 5th, 2014 at 7:59 AM. Many of them are songs about that Great War. Written before her, but accustomed to the circle of fighters, written in between battles, becoming marching and calling to return home with victory as soon as possible, written after the war, close, understandable, accepted by those who survived it. Time mows down the front-line soldiers. There are fewer of them at the festive table. But if they are already gathering with fellow soldiers, they will definitely sing: “At the position, the girl saw off the fighter ...”, “Oh, roads, dust and fog ...”, “I will remember the infantry and my own company ...”, “It’s too early for us to die, we still have things to do at home…” Cut out from newspapers, copied by hand on cardboard, these songs were carefully kept in the pockets of their tunics. They were written in blood, sounded in unison with the soldiers' hearts. Each such song, like a fighter, had its own biography ... And not a song at all, but a letter home. In the autumn of 1941, in the village of Kashino, lines of poetry were written by war correspondent Alexei Surkov (1899-1983) to his wife Sofya Kreva. The memorial sign was installed in 1998 on the site of the dugout, in which in November 1941 the front-line correspondent and poet Alexei Surkov wrote poems, which later became the words of the song "In the dugout" Meticulous researchers of the poet's work accurately name the day when that memorable battle took place on the outskirts of Moscow - November 27, 1941, and the part in which the correspondent of the Krasnoarmeyskaya Pravda newspaper of the Western Front, battalion commissar Alexei Surkov, ended up and took the fight - 258 Regiment of the 9th Guards Rifle Division. It was his defensive positions that were suddenly attacked by the 10th Panzer Division of the Nazis. The fight was hard. “The enemy rushed east through Kashino and Darna along the road parallel to the Volokolamsk highway,” testifies one of the heroes of the Moscow battle, the former commander of the 9th Guards, twice Hero of the Soviet Union, General of the Army A.P. Beloborodov, “fascist tanks broke through onto the road and cut off the headquarters of the regiment, located in the village of Kashino, from the battalions. We had to break out of the encirclement. All staff members had to take up arms and grenades. He became a fighter and a poet. Bold, resolute, he rushed into the thick of battle. The old (for Alexei Surkov it was the fourth war, he was of unconscripted age, but could not stay at home), the brave soldier passed the combat test with honor, escaped from the enemy encirclement together with the headquarters of the regiment and fell ... into a minefield. It was really “four steps to death”, even less…After all the troubles, frozen, tired, in an overcoat cut by shrapnel, Surkov spent the rest of the night over his notebook in a dugout, by a soldier's iron stove. Maybe then his famous "Dugout" was born - a song that entered the people's memory as an integral companion of the Great Patriotic War ... " Brothers Mikhail and Vladimir Kuznetsov dug this dugout in the courtyard of their house. Then, at the front, in moments of calm, they sang the song "In the Dugout", not knowing that it was their stove that warmed the poet Alexei Surkov and inspired the composer Konstantin Listov to create one of the purest and brightest love songs. And later, in the winter of 1942, the composer Konstantin Listov would ask the war correspondent "something to write a song on." “Poems captured me with their emotional power,” the composer recalled, “they took away their sincerity, they echoed in my heart. Time - endlessly disturbing: the Germans near Moscow, I am alone, the family is evacuated. I think there was no person then whose soul would not hurt ... ". A week later, in the editorial office of a front-line newspaper, Listov performed “In the Dugout” with the guitar to Surkov’s verses. They listened with bated breath. In parting, Listov drew notes on a sheet of paper and left them in the editorial office. Later, the poems and the recorded melody will be published in Komsomolskaya Pravda. “I wrote a lot of songs during the war, but none of them fell in love with the audience, like this one,” said Konstantin Yakovlevich Listov. - "Dugout" I met pilots returning from battle at a military airfield near besieged Leningrad in November 42nd. He sang "Dugout" with the Baltic submariners. I will never forget how in 1943 the three of us sang it in the Northern Fleet - Captain Ponochevny (the famous commander of the coastal defense artillery division on Rybachy), the poet Vasily Ivanovich Lebedev-Kumach and I. The first famous performers of "In the Dugout" were Leonid Utyosov and Lidia Ruslanova. The song was first played on the radio in 1954. People's Artist of Russia Mikhail Mikhailovich Novohizhin was lucky enough to perform "Dugout" on the radio as the very first. Here is what he remembers about it: -It was in 1954. Once Lidia Vasilievna Shiltova invites me to the radio to the music editorial office and says: “We would like you to record the song “In the Dugout” for the Golden Fund. “How,” I was surprised, “it cannot be that the Golden Fund does not have a song that literally everyone has been singing since 1941.” And she: "Call Surkov, he wants to talk to you about this." I remember such a case. In 1980, before the opening of the Olympics in Moscow, our athletes took an oath on Mamaev Kurgan. I was also invited there. And the director made such a trick. Behind me is the whole "armada" of the Red Banner Ensemble, together with Alexandrov, I read an excerpt from "The Living and the Dead", how they fought for that piece of land that we are now passing in fifteen minutes. I finished reading, my "Dugout" sounded, and suddenly stopped. “Go on, Mikhail Mikhailovich,” the director shouts. And I sang. For this performance, our illustrious gymnast Lyudmila Turishcheva presented me with a huge basket of flowers. Maybe I'm a sentimental person, but I still can't remember this episode without excitement. And once, it was in Paris, many years after the war, my friends and I went to a cafe. Upon learning that we were Russians, we were asked to sing "Zemlyanka". We were very surprised, but of course I sang. And imagine, all the French stood up. And when I finished, they surrounded us, and one of them began to say: “We survived because Russia saved our lives on earth.” As it turned out later, it was a pilot of the Normandy-Neman regiment. These are the seemingly unexpected feelings that this lyrical song, written to a beloved woman, evoked for many years in people. Fire is beating in a cramped stove, Resin on the logs, like a tear. And the accordion sings to me in the dugout About your smile and eyes. The bushes whispered to me about you In the snow-white fields near Moscow, I want you to hear How my living voice yearns. I want you to hear how my living voice yearns. You are now far, far away, Between us snow and snow. It's not easy for me to reach you, And there are four steps to death. Sing, harmonica, in spite of the blizzard, Call the entangled happiness. I am warm in a cold dugout From your unquenchable love. I am warm in a cold dugout From your unquenchable love. The usual lyrics of the song are somewhat different from the original. But who now, behind the prescription of years, will figure out when and who wove words other than the author's into the couplets. After all, the song is alive.
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