All language subtitles for Oni srazhalis za rodinu (1975)

First Artistic Association

For all those who survived,

those who did not,

and those who will come after…

Mikhail SHOLOKHOV

THEY FOUGHT
FOR THEIR COUNTRY

Honored Artist of the RSFSR
Vassily SHUKSHIN - Pyotr Lopakhin

People's Artist of the USSR
Vyacheslav TIKHONOV - Nikolai Streltsov

People's Artist of the USSR
Sergey BONDARCHUK - Ivan Zvyagintsev

Geogry BURKOV -
Alexander Kopytovsky

People's Artist of the USSR
Yuri NIKULIN - Private Nekrasov

People's Artist of the RSFSR
Ivan LAPIKOV - Sergeant Poprischenko

Honored Artist of the RSFSR
Nikolai GUBENKO - Lieutenant Goloschyokov

Andrei ROSTOTSKY -
Lance-corporal Kochetygov

Nikolai VOLKOV -
Private Nikiforov

Honored Artist of the Ukr. SSR -
Nikolai SHUTKO - Cook Lisichenko

Screen Adaptation and Direction by
Sergey BONDARCHUK

Director of Photography
Vadim YUSOV

Production Designer
Felix YASYUKEVICH

Music by
Vyacheslav OVCHINNIKOV

Director
Vladimir DOSTAL

Sound recording by
Yuri MIKHAILOV

Edited by
Elena MIKHAILOVA

Featuring Yevgeny SAMOILOV
Nonna MORDYUKOVA, Innokenty SMOKTUNOVSKY

Angelina STEPANOVA, Irina SKOBTSEVA
Tatyana BOZHOK, Lydia FEDOSEYEVA

July 1942

Time to make a stop maybe.

You bet. We have covered
about 30 km without no stop.

Half a bucketful of spring water

for each wouldn't hurt,
what do you think?

Regiment, march on!

The war had reached

even this farmstead lost
in the endless Don steppe.

And that's exactly how you
read your son's letters:

you read bit by bit,
and you drink bit by bit.

But I'm not a slow type,

I'm too impatient for this.

Give me the bucket,
or you'll burst.

Nikolai, you receive letters
from your son,

but what about your wife?
Are you widowed?

I don't have a wife.
We broke up.

How long ago?

Last year.

I see.

What about your kids?
You've two of them?

Yes. They live with their mother.

You deserted your wife or what?

No, she deserted me.

On the day when the war
was proclaimed.

I came home,

from a business trip…
And she was gone already.

She just left a note,
and that's all.

She walked out on you
because of another guy?

I don't know.

Means, she did have a lover.

Women are bitches.

You're such a handsome guy,

an agronomist, good salary
and everything,

can't ask for more.

And that whore didn't
even pity her children.

Pyotr!

Gimme a smoke.

You've been to the medical unit?

- Yeah.
- And so?

- Nothing.
- Why go there then?

Just looking.
For any familiar faces.

There is such a cute lassie there.

- Did she fall for you?
- It wasn't my intention.

Oh, come on, don't give me that.

You polished your boots
and medals not for nothing.

Of course, there are
guys with more medals…

Stop it, you oaf.
I had no such intention.

Just strolling about.

The grub you cook for us
isn't enough for stamina.

I'm so hungry, I even stopped
dreaming about my wife.

You're right.

Hey, you rolled the cig
thick as a finger!

Return half of it.

I can't roll thin cigs
if tobacco isn't mine.

- Give it back.
- Take it easy.

What a bum you are, eh.

And from my own tobacco
I make thin cigs.

So, what kind of dreams
you see then?

Lean dreams.

All kind of crap,
crappy like your porridge.

Don't grieve for her, Micola.

You'll settle this after the war.

What means is that you have kids,

they are the core of life,

they'll have to restore
everything after this war,

and it's a real serious war.

Women, you know,

are such an impossible lot.

They would tie themselves into
a knot to get what they want.

A obstinate animal, woman is.

I know their kind,

they are so full of tricks,
may they be damned.

I'll tell you a story.

It happened before the war,
on May 1st.

Me and my friends other combiners

threw a party,

with our wives and everything,

with a lot of accordion music.

So, for a warmer,

we all had a drink,

including myself and
my wife Nastasia Filippovna.

And there was also that
single lady,

a good dancer, gypsy style.

I admired her dancing,

and nothing more,

no intentions below my waist.

But my wife Nastasia Filippovna…

Nastasia Filippovna…

Pyotr Lopakhin.

Did you have a nice
sleep, Mister Streltsov?

Ask some grub from the cook.
I've a headache.

I see…

Depression caused
by our army retreating,

plus heat and headache.

Let's go and take a swim.
We're setting off soon.

Hi.

Hey, let's go to the river,
we'll scrub you clean.

Look, Micola - what a tractor!
The engine is real powerful.

See - what a trailer!

This tractor can tow
three combines at a time!

Start it up.

Come on, it'll take ages here.

Why don't you take
a swim, Nekrasov?

I have malaria.

You're so gloomy, Nikolai.

What's the reason?

I can see no reason
for being happy.

Oh, no reason at all?

Come on, you're alive
and in one piece, buddy.

Look what a sunny day,
a real blessing.

You're a veteran,

have been warring
for almost a year,

but you've emotions
of a greenhorn.

You think, Germans beat us
and that's all?

You think it's the end
of the world? Of the war?

You are like some cheap
character from a vaudeville,

plus flirting with women
even in wartime.

It's a shame
you didn't come with me.

There's a lady doctor there,

a real knock-out.

I'm serious.

Her beauty's knock-out potential

can be equaled
to a six-barreled mortar.

So, she is real dangerous,

be it a soldier or a commander.

I only know

that we're living
through a catastrophe,

and we can only make guesswork

about how great the catastrophe.

We've been on the march
for five days,

we'll soon reach the Don River
and then Stalingrad…

Germans smashed our regiment.

And what's going on
with the rest of the army?

We're marching and marching…

Marching to nowhere.

So don't give me that crap
about being alive,

about the sun shining
and lilies floating,

it makes me sick.

And I'm not some cowardly doggie

with his tail between his legs.

You said, they beat us?
It served us right!

Means, we should war better!

And stop whining
in my presence.

- I'm not gonna wipe your tears.
- I don't need it.

And spare me
your pathetic speeches.

Better tell me - when are we
going to war properly?

Right now, right here,
in this steppe!

I've reached
such a degree of anger,

you spit on me - and I'll hiss
and splutter, so angry I am.

Come here, or I'll drown you!

Just you wait, you
bow-legged devil!

Hey, what are you carrying, Slavs?

Crawfish.

- Where from?
- From near the dam,

must be springs there,
the water is real freezing!

- How many?
- About one hundred, small ones.

Way too many for the two of you.

I'll go and fetch a bucket
and some salt, agreed?

It's a deal.

Good afternoon.

Can you lend us a bucket
and some salt?

We are going to cook crawfish.

- You say, some salt?
- Yes.

Not even a piece
of dung for you guys.

Why are you being
so unkindly to us?

Don't you know why,
you shameless one?

You are going yonder
across the Don?

And who is going to war here?

Maybe you expect old women
to take to arms

and protect you from Germans?

You are letting down your country!

Shame and damnation upon you!

You say, salt? May you get
boiled and oversalted in hell!

Go away!

Aren't you furious, old woman.

You don't deserve my kindness.

You wear a medal.
Was it for catching crawfish?

Leave my medal alone, old woman,

it's none of your concern.

Everything concerns me, my falcon.

I was breaking my back all my life,

was a diligent tax-payer

and helped my country. And you're
running away like scared rabbits,

leaving the land to plunderers,

can't you understand that,
you empty head?

I know, I know.

- But you're wrong.
- Don't you teach me.

You're talking like this because
none of your family is warring.

None of my family?

Go and ask my neighbors.

My three sons and my son-in-law
are warring,

and my fourth son
was killed in Sevastopol.

Now you see?

I'm not so hard on you,
because you're a stranger.

But if some of my sons showed up,

I would belabor them with a stick

and say in a motherly way:

if it's war, then war
like a real soldier,

instead of running from enemy
all across the country,

don't be such a disgrace
upon your old mother.

I'm sorry, I'm sorry.

'Meady' words that
I was treated to, eh.

Hey, wait, soldier.

But be sure and return it.

I'm not so proud
not to accept it.

Thank you, old woman.

Such a nice old lady,
so talkative

and very hospitable.

Her sons are warring, too,

so she offered me
to have her potluck,

- sour cream and everything.
- And you?

I'm not some rogue,

to eat old ladies' sour cream.

It depends on how old
the lady is, eh.

Better tell us about 'your' lady.

Why didn't you accept
food from her?

When you return the bucket,
do ask for some sour cream.

Oh, hold me, comrades,

I gonna swoon
from this heavenly smell.

I'm dying for some good icy beer.

Fresh from the cellar.

People dying from heat,
in cars with no canvas tops.

Imagine we're in some
Moscow restaurant, eh.

Say, at the 'Intourist' hotel…

Smells of dill…

and of crawfish soup…

We can do without beer.

Hey, their eyes
are popping out already.

Why leave in the daytime?
It's bare steppe,

German planes will turn them
into macaroni.

Maybe they're leaving
because it's urgent.

Hey, and I can't hear
the sappers' hammers.

Our crawfish give
us a farewell smile,

goddamit.

Comrades: We have an order

to defend the height
behind the farmstead,

at the crossroads.

We should hold on
until reinforcement arrives.

Is the task clear to you?

Of late we have suffered
heavy losses,

but we kept the banner
of our regiment.

And we must uphold its honor.

We must hold on until the last.

It's good to engage
under the banner,

but to retreat would be a shame.

What do you think?
Will we manage?

We have to.

One can end a cripple
digging earth likes this.

What do you think, Micola?

It's all right with me.

Only explosives and not a spade
can rip such an earth,

During all this time
at the front

I alone have done
as much earthwork

a wheeled tractor would do
in spring season.

No number of 'work-days'
can describe our sweat!

Cut that talk.

Zvyagintsev!

Micola, eh…

That bitch.

The 'guests' are coming…

Kochetygov, dig deeper -

do it like Maiboroda.

And use thyme for camouflage.

To the left, Makar!

Now!

Damn, it jammed.

Come on, come on…

Kochetygov,

wait till he comes closer.

We did them.

Their blitzkrieg failed.
We did them.

Let them come again -
and we'll do them again!

Shoot the infantry men.

Assault!

Follow me!

Hurrah!

Micola…

Pals!

Falcons, assault!

Show them hell!

For our Motherland!

Forward!

Dear me…

Hey, combiner.

The losses so enormous,
don't even tax your brain.

So much bread destroyed…

Those infidels…

Nikolai Streltsov, before
they took him to the hospital,

said to keep an eye on you.

He said: "Take care
of that nincompoop Zvyagintsev.

"God forbid he'll get killed".

So, I'll be always here for you.

Care for some crust?

Give me one.

Take two.

Oh, my…

Stop torturing yourself.

Better talk to me.

Stop muttering.

And don't you dare
talk to yourself,

I forbid you.

- You're not my commander.
- You're wrong, buddy.

I am your commander,

and instead of thwarting

you should try to please me.

How come you're my commander?

Use your brains,
the ones under your helmet.

Only fragments are left
from our regiment.

Another battle like this,

and there will be
only three of us -

you and I and
the cook Lisichenko.

And in that case

I'll be the commander,

and I'll make you oaf
the staff commander.

So, cherish our friendship.

Commanders like you don't exist.

What makes you think so?

Regiment commander
should be serious,

using serious words.

You mean I'm such a fool or what?

You're a blubberer and a jester.

Have you ever grieved at all?

I am grieving, right now, why?

You don't look
like a grieving person.

I simply don't
demonstrate my grief.

So, what is your grief like?

Well, my grief is normal
as normal can be.

Germans have probably
seized my hometown,

where my wife
and my old father live,

and where is the mine
where I worked.

And many of my friends
are dead already,

is it clear to you?

Now you see what kind
of person you are?

Still joking, amongst
all this grief.

Micola Streltsov

was a serious person,

he thought the world of me,

and I thought the world of him.

He was so serious, his
wife even walked out on him.

Your heart is full
of coal dust, miner.

All you can do is dig coal

and shoot clumsily
from your long rifle.

You're an empty person,

all you have is your looks,
nothing more.

Antitank rifleman
is a serious profession,

not for your character,

because, Pyotr, you are so…

Hey, hey…

Come to your senses,
you, Anika the warrior.

I have dozed off.

You fell asleep, like
an old horsie in harness.

You're strong like a horse,

- but the drowse is stronger.
- Right you are.

It may happen to me again.

If you see me nodding, Pyotr,

please poke me on the back,

and don't spare me.

I'll poke you
with great pleasure,

with the butt of my rifle.

Have a smoke, Ivan,

to chase away sleepiness.

You look pitiful
when you're sleepy,

like, you know…

…and even worse.

It's your last tobacco,

I can't accept it.

Gosh, we don't even
have tobacco!

Come on, smoke.

Give it to me.

Let me have a couple of draws.

Smoke, Ivan,

enjoy it.

What a beautiful vista!

What a nice vantage ground.

Let me give you a hand, Pyotr.

The future commander should be
above all this digging.

Great, Ivan.

We'll beat them infidels
from here,

we'll beat them

till metal shavings
fly from their tanks,

till their bodies become
meat and hair!

You're so brave, after battle.

Yesterday, the sight of the
tanks made you pale.

I always grow pale
on seeing tanks.

You would go:
"Cartridge, cartridge",

as if I don't know my job.

You were like a nervous lady, eh.

Hey, you, pious Ivan,

what all this feeble picking about?

Earthwork, like lovemaking,

is about deepness!

You should penetrate!

And because
you can't penetrate, Ivan,

you didn't deserve
your wife's letters.

She has nothing
to remember you by.

Gee, Ivan…

You're such a bad mouth!

You should watch your tongue.

What's the matter? You came
to a point like a hunting dog.

Stay here and protect
the interests of our country,

and I'll pay a visit
to that house yonder there.

- What for?
- I'll reconnoiter.

If the officer asks,

tell him it's nature's call,

terrible cramps and so on.

And even maybe dysentery!

Girls, look - a soldier!

Glasha, dog my cat,

why haven't you
harnessed the horse?

Your jade will have enough
time to get you across the Don.

Salute.

- My name is Pyotr Lopakhin.
- Salute.

Is it the stables here or what?

No, it's the dairy.

We getting ready to go away.

Our farmstead will be burned
down, if the battle begins.

Oh, yes, your farmstead
will come to harm,

but we shall defend it
with all our might.

May God help you.

What about some milk
or butter coming our way?

You should talk to head
of the dairy.

That freckled girl.

- And who are you?
- I'm the groom here,

for three years already.

I do haying, I look after horses.
I was even promised a bonus.

Dear Glasha,

you are so appetizing.

Like whipped cream, you know.

So appetizing,

I would stow you away

at one go.

Yummy cream,

- maketh my mouth water.
- Well, so what?

Oh, don't be so shy, eh.

The girl looks fine,
but she isn't mine…

What's the secret
of such nice forms?

- Fresh milk?
- Enough.

Take the milk can,
and let's go away.

And butter you can
have afterwards.

But we have no time.

Stop it, or I'll cool you down.

Oh, what an angry girl.

- Come here…
- What?

Stop it, or I'll shout.

Where are you?

Have you frozen
into the ice or what?

Come out! Harness
the horse quickly!

Will you cross the Don
or stay on this side?

I'm asking, just in case.

We'll be leaving now, soldier.

You can go with us.

No, not yet.

But if it comes to that,

where shall we meet, Glasha?

I don't think we should, really.

But if you want it real serious,

we'll be in the forest,
across the Don.

We aren't going to
leave too far.

I see.

I'll come to her.

No. The sergeant will be mad.

I wish I wouldn't go,

but I'm so drawn to her.

Oh, Glasha…

If it were not for the war,

I would spend all my life
with her, at the cow's udder,

- pulling at the teats.
- Whose teats?

Nevermind.

I'll go.

One should be crazy
to refuse from butter,

- to give it away to enemy.
- Butter? Of course go.

Air raid!

Not a reproach
you'll hear from me,

Your portrait I return to thee…

One is down!

Gee, it was full of bombs!

See?

If only all our gunners
worked like this.

Hold it.

Look, they're heading our way!

There they go.

Three, four - shoot!

Cartridge!

Come on, shoot that bitch!

Cartridge!

What's wrong, Pyotr?

Are you wounded?

Hell, no!

He is bloody dead.

Bloody dead.

This is the way
we should deal them!

You're a real ace,
Pyotr Fedotych!

At ease.

Lopakhin - report yourself
to the lieutenant.

Attaboy, Lopakhin.

You saw how I dealt him?

He was standing on his fours,
shaking his head, saying:

"Fedya, have I died already?"

And his eyes popping out
with fear,

the smell of stewed
turnip all over him,

'cause, I guess, he had
a yellow streak.

Nekrasov, are you alive there?

Sure thing.

Congrats.

You showed class. Here.

- Drink some.
- What about you?

Come on, drink.

Thanks.

- Your first plane hit?
- Yeah.

The lieutenant colonel
called me

asking who hit down the plane.
I think a medal's on the way.

Good. It's all right with me.

Well, you may go.

Germans will start
an offensive soon.

Tell Borzykh:

it will be a fierce battle.

Germans don't know
how many of us here.

They think, it's a whole
division.

You've nice belts, eh.

It will be a real hot day,

so watch out.

We should hold
the river crossing

for our troops to pass.

So, Siberian man,

still invulnerable to bombs?

Nothing can take me,
until death takes me.

So, where is
your famous 'shanezhki'?

In Omsk, in the kitchen
where my wife is.

What day is it today?

Sunday.

She bakes 'shanezhki' today.
So, you're invited.

Nah, thanks. Way too far away.

I'll have to do
without 'shanezhki'.

Yeah, far away,

so far away…

Better you treat me,
to some tobacco.

- Come on.
- You ran out of yours?

No, I didn't.

Someone else's tobacco
is more delicious.

If I hit down a plane,

I would give all my
tobacco to fellow-soldiers.

The lieutenant warn us

to watch out.
And he knows what he's saying.

You know what he reckons?

That German tanks will
head at our positions.

Yonder there

is a good place for them
to concentrate

and then to move out.

The lieutenant said:
"I lay trust with Borzykh

"and you, Lopakhin".

So, we shall hold on
till the last, Akim.

He lays trust with us
for a good reason.

We are veterans all right,

most of us communists. And the
lieutenant is a good guy.

He's a nice lad, yeah.

But will our neighbors hold on?

They will, there are
more of them.

Well, good luck Akim.

Same to you.

That's a pretty thing!

How do you do.

How do you do.

Thanks for dropping by.

Now go on on your way.

I wish I said what I think
about all this,

but I use epithets
only dealing with women.

Kindly tell me:

who the hell put you down
into this pit?

And what are you gonna do?

Where's the kitchen?
What we gonna grub today?

No one put me down here.

I dug it
and entrenched myself here.

I can't stay
all alone at the kitchen.

So I betook myself here.

Oh, really?

You think we won't
stand without you?

Exactly.
You've said a mouthful.

There's no relying
on you, Lopakhin.

What if you waver?
So here I am.

Tell me, and no beating
around the bush,

what we gonna grub today?

Cabbage soup.

How on earth?

It's simple:

cabbage soup with mutton.

A bomb fell near the bridge

where the sheep were grazing.

I butchered one wounded sheep

before it died in torments.

I stole some cabbage

in a most villainous way
from the kitchen garden

and made a soup garnish.

I'll war a bit,

supporting you guys,

and then I'll make soup

and will it bring here to you guys

as you please, see?

So, everything
is under control, Pyotr.

Because lassie loved Pyotr
her mother would beat her…

So, are you pleased with me, hero?

Speak up.

My dear namesake…

Pyotr…

Spare me these
sentimentalities, Pyotr,

and better give me a grenade.

Of course I'll give you
a grenade.

Here you go.

Great, it may come in handy.

You fuse it

and throw it at them creeps.

- It's all right.
- Thank you.

Well, Sasha, pull up
your pants and get ready.

How is your spirit?

Good.

In our hazardous profession
good spirit is everything.

Cartridge.

What poor shooters they are.

Who ever trained them?

Smooch-smooch to such trainers.

Hey, they'll leave us jobless
if they go on like this.

Did you see that?

Hey, why are you
so grey in the face?

I'm grey in the face
from such life.

There he is!

Shoot him!

Cartridge!

Kochetygov!

Cartridge!

Hey, you, son of a gun,

are you going to war or not?
Why didn't you shoot?

- I?
- Yes.

Never stop shooting them.

I want them dead,
and no captives!

Shoot them before they raise
their hands and surrender!

END OF FILM ONE

Mikhail SHOLOKHOV

THEY FOUGHT
FOR THEIR COUNTRY

FILM TWO

Oh, my Lord, keep me.

Oh, my Lord, don't let me die…

Oh, my Lord…

To have driven a person
to such a state…

I'm not a communist, of course,

and not forbidden
to be religious,

but nevertheless,

It is not good,

I didn't look good at all.

In drastic moments
people do silly things.

Death is not your dear aunt,

she's a formidable bitch

feared by communists
and non-communists

and all other common people.

Just you wait.

Hey, he is drunken, that dog!

Now I'll get you down…

You, dirty whistler.

Let's go…

After failing to seize
the Don crossing,

the depleted German troops
stopped attacking and lay in wait.

In the evening, Russian units
in defense

were ordered to cross the Don.

Our life is such a mess…

Kochetygov's job…

But he himself is dead.

His mother will know…

How she gonna live now?

When such kids like him

are being killed before
my very eyes,

I feel like crying.

If I die, it's nothing:

I'm an old dog who saw life.

But when such kids are dying…

Stop lamenting.

Yes, the lad is dead,

but so are many others.

You can't lament
for all of them.

Let's go,

we must catch up with the guys,

god forbid we'll fall behind.

I'm dying for a smoke.

Have patience.

Patience, patience.

Russian soldier is very patient,

but his patience
isn't made of iron, eh.

I've seen so much hell today,

my patience is bursting
at the seams.

Is Ivan Zvyagintsev dead, too?

How should I know?

- But you saw him fall down?
- Yeah,

but I didn't feel his
pulse, I don't know.

Maybe it was not him?

Maybe it was someone else?

You could have been mistaken.

No, it was him.

It was Zvyagintsev, I'm sure.

A shell exploded,
and he collapsed,

I don't know, though,
if it was lethal.

Nurse…

Where have you come from?

I wish I could have

some more vodka…

No, you can't,

you can't, my dear.

Thank God you came to.

It was a real hell,
all this bombing.

I'll try to take you
to the medical unit.

Tell me,

where I was wounded?

You were wounded…

…everywhere.

Did I lose my feet

- or what?
- You didn't lose your feet.

But they're a bit riddled.

Don't talk, it makes you weak.

I'll take you to doctors,
they'll bandage you and everything.

I guess, you'll be then sent
to a hospital in the rear.

They'll put you into order.
War loves order.

So, I'm all wounded?

Order, ha…

And you call this order?

Hold on, my dear,

please, hold on!

We'll move on now,

we've almost reached
our destination,

do you hear me?

Oh, why do they recruit
such jumbos!

Tell me, why?

I can hardly haul you.

You must be weighing 6 pounds!

Ninety three…

- Ninety three what?
- Kilograms.

My weight before the war,

but not anymore…

Look, daughter…

Leave me here…

I'll manage myself…

I'll manage…

I'll take some rest…

and will go on…

My hands are not damaged,

so I'll keep crawling…

Don't talk nonsense.

Why all men always talk nonsense?

What can you do? What?

I'm just a bit tired.

I'll catch my breath,
and we'll go on moving.

Don't worry, I saved
even bigger guys than you.

I've managed even worse cases.

I look small, but I'm real strong!

Hey, hold your horses.

- This place is mined.
- I can see no warning signs.

There is a men's cordon,
and there are stakes, see?

- Move to the right!
- He is wounded?

Yeah. Our lieutenant.

Poor guy, to be jolted,
on such a road.

Did you hear that, Lopakhin?

A minefield surrounded
by some little stakes!

'Welcome to our testing ground'.

You can bump into a telegraph pole

but a short stake won't stop you.

When we cross the Don,
we'll be safe.

That's a pretty kettle of fish -
we ran away from Germans

and nearly stepped on
our own mines!

Such things happen
every now and then.

You think you are safe
and there is no danger

but then - bang!
- and you're dead.

There was such
an accident in our village…

Will you shut up?

Accidents, my foot.

With such momentum, you're
good to be used as a ram.

No, it's because
the path is awful.

Hit the ground!

Oh, shucks.

Hey, Lopakhin,

where is the sergeant taking us?

To the Don.

No, I mean,

- to the bridge?
- No, to the water.

How are we gonna
cross the river then?

We'll sail on our snivels.

Stop being so irritable.

You are so irritable,
all the time,

will you stop being irritable?

We all come through hell.

I'm irritable
because you talk nonsense.

What wrong did I say?

You know very well
Germans are bombing the bridge.

- I know that.
- Then why asking

whether we gonna use the bridge?

I'm sick and tired
of your stupid questions,

give me a break.

And don't you step on my heels.

Hang lamps on your heels,

you, baby girl.

Now you'll get a sock
in your 'lamps'.

- Keep the distance.
- I'm keeping the distance.

I said, stop stepping on my heels.

- Stop rubbing yourself against me.
- I'm not.

Yes, you are.

Are you afraid to get lost or what?

See? You're being irritable again.

I'm not afraid of getting lost.

But to cross the river
without using the bridge,

well, it makes me nervous.

You can swim, you know,

but I can't.

Will you ever shut up?

I can't shut up,

because soon we'll reach
the Don and I'll die then.

Before I die, I need to give
vent to my feeling.

There is even such a rule,
for those dying.

Stop whining, Sasha.
It'll be all right.

Are you deaf or what?

I said, I can't swim!

How I gonna cross the river?

With all this gear,
even good swimmers may drown.

And I'm carrying
two pounds of cartridges!

I know, I know I'll drown.

Why should I carry
all this crap?

And suffer during
my last minutes?

I'll throw all of this away.

I gonna drown naked,
it's more pleasant like this.

Relax, you won't drown.
Shit doesn't drown.

Great. You're right.

Means you won't drown,
but I will.

Damn, you're such a headache!

We'll reach the Don, and I'll
give you my safety razor.

I'm not such a twerp as you are.

Shave yourself as you please

and remember the heroically
drowned Alexander Kopytovsky.

The raft! Now give me your razor!

Nah, now I'll need it myself!
I'm alive, alive!

I saw the raft, and it's
like to be born anew!

Not a reproach
you'll hear from me,

Your portrait I return to thee.

Don't keep my letter
and forget my name,

Because I love you all the same…

We didn't make it.

The lieutenant has died.

It was a real deluge last night,

but the earth is still dry.

Our lieutenant's last trench…

Yeah…

Let's have a smoke?

I'll go and report to the sergeant,

and you

stay here and have a smoke.

Comrades…

Soldiers… Sons…

Look at this heavy mist around us.

It's hanging over all our country,

this black grief…

It can't be dulled
neither in sleep,

nor in the daytime,
this black grief…

We should remember

about this at all times:

right now,
when we bury our comrade,

our regiment's last officer,

and thereafter, too,

when someone will be playing

an accordion,
during moments of rest.

We should remember

how we retreated, sons,

but we fought to the last.

Only a handful of us is left,

but we won't be ashamed

to look people in the eye,

though, with a heavy heart
it will be.

I'm the oldest of you,

it's my fourth war…

But I do believe:

our regiment will be
replenished with new people,

and soon we'll retrace our steps,

moving to the West.

And our stride will be heavy,

so heavy,

as to make the earth shudder.

And, maybe,

comrade Lieutenant,

you will hear our footfalls…

They're bombing our cars
full of ammunition.

What a pity.

So, it will be remarshalling?

Yeah, time to say farewell,

what do you think?

- Farewell to whom?
- To each other.

What are you talking about?

I can't believe you're saying this.

We can't break our rifle
in two. We'll stay together.

Wow.

Without me you'll die
from boredom.

You need to tease
someone all the time.

Depends on people you fall across.
But I'm patient.

I badly need some rest.

I'm not like Lopakhin,
I'm not made of iron.

I have these bugs, you know.

Maybe caused by sadness.

I thought you're Russian,
but you're some piece of shit

of unknown nationality.

- Why?
- You are from Kursk region?

Yes. Lebedyan village.

Tell us about
your secret disease.

It's not funny at all.

My ailment is called
'trench disease'.

What do you mean, Nekrasov?

Something like this, eh?

It's not what you think,
you stupid ones.

It's not corporeal disease,
it's brain disease.

Brain disease?

Impossible for you to have
brain disease, Nekrasov.

There is no ground, see?

No ground for such disease.

Come, tell us about your disease.

Yes, Pasha, tell us.

Well, you know…

Do you remember remarshalling
campaign in spring?

We made a stop
in Semenovka village.

The house was packed
with 150 men,

everyone sleeping in most
impossible positions.

And - man - it was so stuffy.

I woke up, I needed
to take a leak,

but somehow I thought
I was in a dugout

and that I needed to walk
up the steps.

So, I climbed on the step
of the stove-bed

where an old woman was sleeping,

she was maybe 100 years old,

all wrinkled like an old mushroom.

Stop it. Go on, Nekrasov.

Go on.

We're full of understanding,
except one fool here.

So, you can imagine
what that old hag thought.

Here I am, standing before her,
and that crumblie,

that old mangy witch,

got real scared
and started begging

and lamenting:

"Oh, you, sinner,
what's on your mind?"

And she kicked me
in the face with her felt boot.

And I said: "Old lady,

"forgive me for crissake,
and be quiet.

"And stop kicking,
because, God forbid,

"your old footsies will
fall out of their joints.

"I'm sorry to have
disturbed you", I said,

"I'm not gonna touch you,
pest upon you".

- And so I climbed down.
- From the crumblie?

From the step, you fool.

And I thought: Oh, my God,
what's wrong with me?

God forbid someone heard
that dialogue.

They'll drive me mad
by their jokes.

But, thank God,
everyone was fast asleep,

and I came to no disgrace.

But since then

every night I imagine

I'm sleeping in a dugout

or something like this.

So, this 'trench disease'…

…is it contagious?

God forbid, after talking to you

I'll start climbing onto crumblies?

You idiot.

Why?

Not even pestilence
will take you,

let alone spiritual disease
like I have.

You guys are young

and can fight
without interruption,

'cause you're healthy,
but I'm not.

I'm too old for this.

I miss my family.

I have four children.

And, you know,

it has been 12 months,

and I'm forgetting their faces.

Worst of all, I can't even remember

Masha, my eldest daughter,

she is fifteen.

A very smart girl,

the best in school.

As for my wife…

I'm lost for words here…

I already forgot

the smell of her armpits…

It's real moving,
the kids and everything,

real moving…

I talked to commander
of the 34th regiment.

He said we should go
to Talovsky village,

where there is the HQ
of our division.

I took the liberty, asking him

what will happen to us now.

He said: "Don't worry, old man.

"Since you kept the sacred banner,

"your regiment will not
be disbanded,

"but replenished with soldiers
and officers.

"We'll send you

"to a most important sector
of the front".

A most important sector!

Do you guys know
what it means?

At least, my lungs
were not damaged.

And my legs?
How serious is the wound?

Will I be able to walk?
Or I'll end an invalid?

You may tear my pants open,

but don't you touch my boots.

They didn't come easily to me, and
I've had them only for one month.

They're nice boots.

With leather soles…

And the bootlegs, too,
made of genuine leather,

not some cheap tarpaulin.

So, don't you dare touch my boots.

- Don't you teach me.
- But it's my boots!

Right. Forget about them.

I can't take them off.

Look,

try to do this,

pull carefully,

I can tolerate.

You bald son of a bitch!

You, dirty devil!

What do you think
you are doing?

I've finished already,

don't swear, you're bleeding.

Let me turn you…

Go away,

you parasite,

you, shabby camel,

you, plague in glasses.

Mangy, stinky moron,

people's enemy,
that's what you are.

Have you finished,
epic Ilya Morumets?

Shame on you,

you are an elderly man…

I bet, your only livestock

before the war

was a toad,

and it lived under your porch,

and it was starving, starving.

Go hence,

you stupid quack,

you two-legged plague.

Bear with me, bro.

I hope you won't cut off
anything needful.

One can't trust you doctors.

You were tolerant

for so long, soldier,

now be tolerant a little more.

And don't fear,

we'll keep you in one piece,

we don't need what is not ours.

My God…

Why are you staring at me,
comrade woman?

Haven't you seen naked men?

I'm nothing special, you know,

It's not an All-Union agricultural
exhibition for you,

and I'm not some stud-bull
brought here for demonstration.

I'm not interested in your
private parts, I'm a doctor.

Please lie still
and stop talking.

What an undisciplined
warrior you are.

Doctor, sorry,

I can't see your rank
because of the lab coat,

but can you give me some alcohol?

Hold on, hold on, soldier,

it's for your own good.

Then what about

some soporific?

Don't begrudge medicine
to people!

So,

does it hurt so badly?

Can't you bear with it?

I warned you that you'll have
to bear with it.

What's the matter?

You have such a nasty character?

Comrade doctor,

you are picking in my body

as if it were your own pocket.

And it leaves one

with nothing else to do

than moan and howl like a dog.

- Does it hurt so much?
- No,

it doesn't hurt at all,

it's tickling.

I have been ticklish
since I was a child,

that's why it's so unbearable.

I positively refuse to stay here!

To hell with all this!
I can't take it any longer.

Take me away from here,

take me back to the front,

away from here.
Where are my boots?

Put them under my head,

for me to be on the safe side.

Everyone is stealing boots here!

But you have
to deserve such boots,

to wear them where death is,

and to snip and tear
is what any fool can do!

Oh, my God!

It hurts so much!

Lopakhin, Lopakhin,

it hurts so much!

We'll encamp here for the night.

No, we better not.

We better rest a bit, and get
to the HQ before the sunset.

Do you hear me, sergeant?

We haven't had a crumb
for one long day.

And they have
a nice kitchen at the HQ.

Cut this talk!

I can't present you to the
colonel the way you are,

is that clear?

We'll spend the night here.

By the sunset you should
look impeccable:

mend your uniforms,

repair your boots

and everything,

and polish your weapons
until they're shining.

You should mend
your pants, Sasha.

You look like a martyr
in heaven.

Martyrs is what we are,

or even worse.

As an ex soldier, Chairman,

you should understand
our situation.

Don't be such a limited person.

But I can't help you.

We aren't asking for much.

I can't help you, sergeant.

It seems, all is useless.

Lopakhin, do something.

You just write a writ.

Maybe we'll find some provision.

I'm telling you: The barn is empty.

Stop pawing my leg.

I'm no lassie for you.
Also my leg is insensitive -

it's an artificial leg.

Let's go.

Three kilograms at the most.

The lads are starving,

we're in a desperate situation.

Cheer up, Poprischenko!

Rely on me.
I'll handle this.

What's on your mind?
Something illegal?

Everything will be legal,
I promise.

I'll be the only party affected.

I'll have to loosen
my moral principles.

I'm a hopeless sinner,

but I'm ready
to sacrifice myself.

- What do you mean?
- You'll see.

Chairman, can I ask you
for one minute?

Look, you're a good pal,
as I can see,

and I'll be honest with you.

We are badly in need of grub.

- Right?
- Right.

And you can't help us
with provision.

- Then help us in something else.
- What do you mean?

Any well-off women
living in your village?

Sure. It's a big village.

So, bring us to such
woman's house.

I hope she doesn't look
like a crocodile,

I hope she looks like a woman.

You need someone
not older than 70?

70 is way too old. I'd prefer
someone younger.

I see.

- Permission to proceed?
- Permission granted.

Only I'm afraid
you'll let us down, Lopakhin.

- Why?
- Well, you know,

you have to be a superman,

for a woman to feed 27 soldiers.

It demands a great effort.

I'll take the sweat.

Your portrait I return to thee…

The other boot is even
in a worse state.

Let me attach a strap-belt
to your shorts,

and your pants we'll burn down, eh.

Guys, the hostess is coming.

Holy cow.

My God. This is the end.

It's useless.

I'll go to the Chairman now
and dust him up

for playing such a trick on us.

- Take it easy.
- Look at her, Lopakhin,

she's like a walking statue!

A woman is always a woman,

and she's even lovely.

Her looks gives me the shivers.

She is the spitting image
of that woman's statue

I saw in Moscow
at the agricultural exhibition.

- So what?
- You're too small for her.

You're a grown-up person,

and you don't know what
every woman knows?

What do you mean?

A small flea
is the most passionate!

Did you read
ancient history, sergeant?

No I didn't.
I'm just a carpenter,

you know. Why asking?

There was such a commander,
Alexander of Macedonia.

So, he, as also later
the Roman commander

Julius Caesar, had a motto:

I came, I saw, I won.

I stick to the same slogan,

and I'm not afraid of this statue.

Permission to proceed, sergeant?

Permission granted,

for we are in a hopeless
situation, you know.

But, I fear, you won't die
a natural death…

I'll be all right.

Your cows have did
a real job of it…

Natalya Stepanovna…

Good observation post,
mister general.

Shut up.

The man is sacrificing himself
for our sake.

Pyotr Fedotovich,
hand me the buckets.

Natalya Stepanovna,
I'll go to the sheepcote…

Oops.

Hey, fellas, feeling hungry?

She swallowed the bait.

He's a real hero.

So what he's so small.

As the say,
small flea - much stink.

He is like that ancient
military commander.

Did you read ancient history,
Nekrasov?

Honestly? No.

Too bad, Nekrasov, too bad.

There was such a commander
in olden times,

Alexander…

Damn, I forgot his name.

- Alexander…
- Suvorov?

No, not Suvorov!

Alexander of Macedonia
was his name.

So, he treated his enemy
in the following way:

I came, I saw, I fun.

And that son of a bitch
would have so much fun,

his enemy couldn't come
to his senses.

What was his nationality?

You mean, Alexander's?

He had his own special nationality.

- How?
- Yes, his own nationality.

We should be quiet.

If we can't sleep from hunger,
we should pretend.

I can't pretend. My stomach
is growling

too loudly.

How is it possible,
not to feed a warrior?

I bet, they are all ex kulaks here.

Lopakhin, are you asleep?

No.

- Don't you fall asleep.
- Don't worry.

200 grams of vodka would be
good for you right now,

but where can we get it,
in this goddamned village?

I'll do without vodka.

- You are going already?
- No time to lose time.

Good luck, Lopakhin.

Alexander of Macedonia,
small flea, darn you!

I'll go to the Chairman now,

we won't leave without breakfast.

Take it easy here.
I'll be back soon.

He's not a flea, he's
Alexander of Macedonia!

The king of all
nations and women!

We were left hungry because
of that damned 'king'.

Good morning, Natalya Stepanovna.

Good morning.

Please, forgive me, Pyotr Fedotych.

What a bad bruise.

I'm afraid, your friends
heard all that noise.

Forget it. A bruise
becomes a man.

Though, you could
have been more careful.

But let's forget about it.

Just a boyfriending incident.

You say, boyfriending?

You think maybe

soldiers' wives have no shame?

Speak lower.

So, I had to prove with my fists
what kind of woman I am.

Sasha…

- My aide.
- This one?

Sorry for asking,

but what kind of person
your husband is?

Is he tall?

No, he is of approximately
your size,

only a bit bigger in the bone.

I bet, you were harsh on him?

No,

we lived peacefully.

He is a hard-working quiet man.

He's in the hospital now.

Maybe they'll let him go home?

I'm sure they will.

On what occasion you prepared

this gorgeous spread?

- It's not logical.
- Why not logical?

At night, your sergeant,
that red-haired old man,

came to the chairman

and told him everything,

how courageously you guys fought.

At dawn, the chairman

came to my house and said:

"We were wrong, Natalya,

"we were wrong thinking

"that they are runaways.

"They are real heroes…"

- Oh, come on…
- Look…

We shall give away
everything to you,

only don't let Germans come here.

And how long are you
going to retreat?

It's time to balk!

Forgive me my harsh word,

but you guys are such a disgrace!

Means, I tried the wrong key
to your heart?

Yes, the wrong key.

Well, well,

nevermind that…

I'd call this,
Your portrait I return to thee…

I'm so unhappy…

A brand new division…

Check it out.

All spruced up,
with not a scratch…

Everyone as bright as a button,

as if they came to a parade.

They are freshers.

One day of hell like we saw,

and their glamour would be gone.

Nikolai!

Nikolai Streltsov!

My dear friend,

where have you come from?

I was shouting to you…

Pyotr…

I'm so glad…

You can't even imagine

how glad I am.

Come, let's sit down.

I'm difficult

to talk to.

After that bomb exploded…

…I can't hear anything.

But you are deaf, Kolya…

So…

Why did you run away
from the hospital?

- Why did you run away?
- I didn't run away.

- I walked away.
- Hell, why?

Kolya, you fool.

You need medical treatment!

What the hell? You should
get some help!

What do you mean?

I stopped bleeding in the ear.

So there was no need

to stay in the hospital anymore.

Our regiment was
in a difficult situation.

Only a few of us are left,

that's why

I couldn't stay in the hospital,

see?

I couldn't but come back.

So, I came back,

to fight

shoulder to shoulder
with my comrades.

So what I'm deaf,

right, Pyotr?

Right, right.

Oh, my Jesus.

You poor thing.

I'm glad

to be here again with you!

To Stalingrad!

Uncover the banner!

Soldiers!

Soldiers!

Our Motherland will never
forget about your exploits

and your sufferings!

Thank you very much!

Thank you!

The victory will be ours!

We shall bring the banner
of the great liberator-army

to Berlin!

Do you hear this?

May our love
towards our country

live in our hearts

as long as we live.

May our hatred to enemy

always shine on the tips
of our bayonets…

Mikhail Sholokhov

Translated by Svetlana Chulkova