Transcription
Original in Russian · manuscript
Reading checked by Dmitry Karasev; words still uncertain remain followed by [?].
One page (without beginning or end) of a pencil letter from Alexei to his wife Alexandra. His grandson Mikhail G. Dorrer published the full text of the letter (« Мой бессмертный полк », comtemichel.livejournal.com), which helped to read unclear words. Elsewhere in the letter Alexei writes « exactly a year ago, on the night of 29 to 30 October 1942 », so the letter probably dates from late October 1943 (to be confirmed). Provisional reading: [?] = uncertain word.
Original text (Russian)
[…] Тогда [?] они, конечно, нашли бы нас, и бежать
было бы некуда, но выстрелы можно было слить
с выстрелами, и я только шепнул товарищу:
бить так, чтобы не вскрикнул. Густые кусты помогали
нам, и Емельянов стукнул первого прямо в глаз,
так что никто не заметил падения. Я стукнул
второго позади уха, когда он почти прошёл меня,
но вышло дело хуже: хотя немец упал без крика,
но в куст, ветви затрещали, и сосед, окликнув его,
пошёл в эту же сторону посмотреть, в чём дело.
Один взгляд на убитого — и он поднял бы тревогу.
Я выстрелил сквозь куст, едва заметив фрица, и
он исчез, не пикнув. И мы замерли, прислушиваясь.
Слева выстрелили, но явно по птичке. Двое или
трое рассмеялись, заговорили, значит, там всё в порядке,
но последний немец упал справа, и убит ли, и если
убит, то не замечен ли. Потрескивали ветви, цепляясь за
одежду и под сапогами, и как будто в стороне. Появилась
уверенность, что не заметили и уходят по своему направле-
нию, но тут за кустом, где упал последний немец,
послышался явственный [?] шорох. Неужели он жив и
отползает? Шорох повторился. Ныряя под нижними
колючими ветками, я на четвереньках кинулся туда […]
English translation
[…] Then [?] they would have found us, of course, and there would have been nowhere to run,
but our shots could be blended with theirs, and I only had time to whisper to my comrade:
hit so that he doesn't cry out. The thick bushes helped us,
and Emelyanov got the first one right in the eye, so that nobody noticed him fall. I got
the second one behind the ear when he had almost passed me,
but it went worse: although the German fell without a cry,
he fell into a bush, the branches cracked, and his neighbour, calling to him,
went that way to see what was the matter.
One look at the dead man and he would have raised the alarm.
I fired through the bush as soon as I caught sight of the Fritz, and
he vanished without a squeak. And we froze, listening.
On the left there were shots, but clearly at a bird. Two or
three laughed and talked: so over there all was well.
But the last German had fallen on the right: was he dead, and if dead,
had he been noticed? Branches crackled, catching on
clothes and under boots, and as if off to the side. We became
sure that they had noticed nothing and were moving off in their own direction,
but just then, behind the bush where the last German had fallen,
a distinct [?] rustle was heard. Could he be alive and
crawling away? The rustle came again. Diving under the low
thorny branches, I rushed there on all fours […]