Year of writing:
1956
Reading time:
Description of the work:
The Fate of Man is a story that was written by Russian writer Mikhail Sholokhov in 1956. The work was originally published by the newspaper Pravda.
The story The Fate of a Man is based on real events. The fact is that in 1946, while hunting, Sholokhov met a man who told him about the sad events in his life, and Sholokhov was so impressed by this story that he decided to write a story about it. About 10 years passed, and inspired by the stories of Erich Maria Remarque, Hemingway and others, Mikhail Sholokhov sat down to write. It took him only seven days to write the story The Fate of a Man.
We present to your attention summary story The Fate of Man.
Andrey Sokolov
Spring. Upper Don. The narrator and a friend rode on a chaise drawn by two horses to the village of Bukanovskaya. It was difficult to travel - the snow began to melt, the mud was impassable. And here near the Mokhovsky farm there is the Elanka River. Small in the summer, now it has spilled over a whole kilometer. Together with a driver who came from nowhere, the narrator swims across the river on some dilapidated boat. The driver drove a Willis car parked in the barn to the river, got into the boat and went back. He promised to return in two hours.
The narrator sat down on a fallen fence and wanted to smoke - but the cigarettes got wet during the crossing. He would have been bored for two hours in silence, alone, without food, water, booze or smoking - when a man with a child came up to him and said hello. The man (that was main character further narration Andrei Sokolov) mistook the narrator for a driver - because of the car standing next to him and came up to talk to his colleague: he himself was a driver, only truck. The narrator did not upset his interlocutor by revealing his true profession (which remained unknown to the reader) and lied about what the authorities were waiting for.
Sokolov replied that he was in no hurry, but wanted to take a smoke break. Smoking alone is boring. Seeing the cigarettes laid out to dry, he treated the narrator to his own tobacco.
They lit a cigarette and started talking. The narrator was embarrassed because of the petty deception, so he listened more, and Sokolov spoke.
Pre-war life of Sokolov
At first my life was ordinary. I myself am a native of the Voronezh province, born in 1900. IN civil war was in the Red Army, in the Kikvidze division. In the hungry year of twenty-two, he went to Kuban to fight the kulaks, and that’s why he survived. And the father, mother and sister died of hunger at home. One left. Rodney - even if you roll a ball - nowhere, no one, not a single soul. Well, a year later he returned from Kuban, sold his little house, and went to Voronezh. At first he worked in a carpentry artel, then he went to a factory and learned to be a mechanic. Soon he got married. The wife was brought up in orphanage. Orphan. I got a good girl! Quiet, cheerful, obsequious and smart, no match for me. Since childhood, she learned how much a pound is worth, maybe this affected her character. Looking from the outside, she wasn’t that distinguished, but I wasn’t looking at her from the outside, but point-blank. And for me there was nothing more beautiful and desirable than her, there was not in the world and there never will be!
You come home from work tired, and sometimes angry as hell. No, she will not be rude to you in response to a rude word. Affectionate, quiet, doesn’t know where to sit you, struggles to prepare a sweet piece for you even with little income. You look at her and move away with your heart, and after a little you hug her and say: “Sorry, dear Irinka, I was rude to you. You see, my work isn’t going well these days.” And again we have peace, and I have peace of mind.
Then he talked again about his wife, how she loved him and did not reproach him even when he had to drink too much with his comrades. But soon they had children - a son, and then two daughters. Then the drinking was over - unless I allowed myself a glass of beer on the day off.
In 1929 he became interested in cars. He became a truck driver. Lived well and made good. And then there is war.
War and Captivity
The whole family accompanied him to the front. The children kept themselves under control, but the wife was very upset - in last time they say, see you, Andryusha... In general, it’s already sickening, and now my wife is burying me alive. In upset feelings he left for the front.
During the war he was also a driver. Lightly wounded twice.
In May 1942 he found himself near Lozovenki. The Germans were going on the offensive, and he volunteered to go to the front line to carry ammunition to our artillery battery. It didn’t deliver the ammunition - the shell fell very close, and the blast wave overturned the car. Sokolov lost consciousness. When I woke up, I realized that I was behind enemy lines: the battle was thundering somewhere behind, and tanks were walking past. Pretended to be dead. When he decided that everyone had passed, he raised his head and saw six fascists with machine guns walking straight towards him. There was nowhere to hide, so I decided to die with dignity - I stood up, although I could barely stand on my feet, and looked at them. One of the soldiers wanted to shoot him, but the other held him back. They took off Sokolov's boots and sent him on foot to the west.
After some time, a column of prisoners from the same division as himself caught up with the barely walking Sokolov. I walked on with them.
We spent the night in the church. Three noteworthy events happened overnight:
a) A certain person, who introduced himself as a military doctor, set Sokolov’s arm, which was dislocated during a fall from a truck.
b) Sokolov saved from death a platoon commander he did not know, whom his colleague Kryzhnev was going to hand over to the Nazis as a communist. Sokolov strangled the traitor.
c) The Nazis shot a believer who was bothering them with requests to be let out of the church to go to the toilet.
The next morning they began to ask who was the commander, the commissar, the communist. There were no traitors, so the communists, commissars and commanders remained alive. They shot a Jew (perhaps it was a military doctor - at least that’s how the case is presented in the film) and three Russians who looked like Jews. They drove the prisoners further west.
All the way to Poznan Sokolov thought about escape. Finally, an opportunity presented itself: the prisoners were sent to dig graves, the guards were distracted - he pulled to the east. On the fourth day, the Nazis and their shepherd dogs caught up with him, and Sokolov’s dogs almost killed him. He was kept in a punishment cell for a month, then sent to Germany.
“They sent me everywhere during my two years of captivity! During this time he traveled through half of Germany: he was in Saxony, he worked at a silicate plant, and in the Ruhr region he rolled out coal at a mine, and in Bavaria he made a living on earthworks, and he was in Thuringia, and the devil, wherever he had to, according to German walk the earth"
On the brink of death
In camp B-14 near Dresden, Sokolov and others worked in a stone quarry. He managed to return one day after work to say, in the barracks, among other prisoners: “They need four cubic meters of output, but for the grave of each of us, one cubic meter through the eyes is enough.”
Someone reported these words to the authorities and the commandant of the camp, Müller, summoned him to his office. Muller knew Russian perfectly, so he communicated with Sokolov without an interpreter.
“I will do you a great honor, now I will personally shoot you for these words. It’s inconvenient here, let’s go into the yard and sign there.” “Your will,” I tell him. He stood there, thought, and then threw the pistol on the table and poured a full glass of schnapps, took a piece of bread, put a slice of bacon on it and gave it all to me and said: “Before you die, Russian Ivan, drink to the victory of German weapons.”
I put the glass on the table, put down the snack and said: “Thank you for the treat, but I don’t drink.” He smiles: “Would you like to drink to our victory? In that case, drink to your death.” What did I have to lose? “I will drink to my death and deliverance from torment,” I tell him. With that, I took the glass and poured it into myself in two gulps, but didn’t touch the appetizer, politely wiped my lips with my palm and said: “Thank you for the treat. I’m ready, Herr Commandant, come and sign me.”
But he looks attentively and says: “At least have a bite before you die.” I answer him: “I don’t have a snack after the first glass.” He pours a second one and gives it to me. I drank the second one and again I don’t touch the snack, I’m trying to be brave, I think: “At least I’ll get drunk before I go into the yard and give up my life.” The commandant raised his white eyebrows high and asked: “Why aren’t you having a snack, Russian Ivan? Do not be shy!" And I told him: “Sorry, Herr Commandant, I’m not used to having a snack even after the second glass.” He puffed out his cheeks, snorted, and then burst into laughter and through his laughter said something quickly in German: apparently, he was translating my words to his friends. They also laughed, moved their chairs, turned their muzzles towards me and, I noticed, they were looking at me somehow differently, seemingly softer.
The commandant pours me a third glass, and his hands are shaking with laughter. I drank this glass, took a small bite of bread, and put the rest on the table. I wanted to show them, the damned one, that although I was disappearing from hunger, I was not going to choke on their handouts, that I had my own, Russian dignity and pride, and that they did not turn me into a beast, no matter how hard they tried.
After this, the commandant became serious in appearance, straightened two iron crosses on his chest, came out from behind the table unarmed and said: “That's what, Sokolov, you are a real Russian soldier. You are a brave soldier. I am also a soldier and respect worthy opponents. I won't shoot you. In addition, today our valiant troops reached the Volga and completely captured Stalingrad. This is for us a big joy, and therefore I generously give you life. Go to your block, and this is for your courage,” and from the table he hands me a small loaf of bread and a piece of lard.
Kharchi divided Sokolov with his comrades - everyone equally.
Release from captivity
In 1944, Sokolov was assigned as a driver. He drove a German major engineer. He treated him well, sometimes sharing food.
On the morning of June twenty-ninth, my major orders him to be taken out of town, in the direction of Trosnitsa. There he supervised the construction of fortifications. We left.
On the way, Sokolov stunned the major, took the pistol and drove the car straight to where the earth was humming, where the battle was going on.
The machine gunners jumped out of the dugout, and I deliberately slowed down so that they could see that the major was coming. But they started shouting, waving their arms, saying you can’t go there, but I didn’t seem to understand, I threw on the gas and went at full eighty. Until they came to their senses and began firing machine guns at the car, and I was already in no man’s land between the craters, weaving like a hare.
Here the Germans are hitting me from behind, and here their outlines are firing towards me from machine guns. The windshield was pierced in four places, the radiator was pierced by bullets... But now there was a forest above the lake, our people were running towards the car, and I jumped into this forest, opened the door, fell to the ground and kissed it, and I couldn’t breathe...
They sent Sokolov to the hospital for treatment and food. In the hospital I immediately wrote a letter to my wife. Two weeks later I received a response from neighbor Ivan Timofeevich. In June 1942, a bomb hit his house, killing his wife and both daughters. My son was not at home. Having learned about the death of his relatives, he volunteered for the front.
Sokolov was discharged from the hospital and received a month's leave. A week later I reached Voronezh. He looked at the crater in the place where his house was - and that same day he went to the station. Back to the division.
Son Anatoly
But three months later, joy flashed through me, like the sun from behind a cloud: Anatoly was found. He sent a letter to me at the front, apparently from another front. I learned my address from a neighbor, Ivan Timofeevich. It turns out that he first ended up in an artillery school; This is where his talents for mathematics came in handy. A year later he graduated from college with honors, went to the front and now writes that he received the rank of captain, commands a battery of “forty-fives”, has six orders and medals.
After the war
Andrey was demobilized. Where to go? I didn’t want to go to Voronezh.
I remembered that my friend lived in Uryupinsk, demobilized in the winter due to injury - he once invited me to his place - I remembered and went to Uryupinsk.
My friend and his wife were childless and lived in their own house on the edge of the city. Although he had a disability, he worked as a driver in an auto company, and I got a job there too. I stayed with a friend and they gave me shelter.
Near the teahouse he met a homeless boy, Vanya. His mother died in an air raid (during the evacuation, probably), his father died at the front. One day, on the way to the elevator, Sokolov took Vanyushka with him and told him that he was his father. The boy believed and was very happy. He adopted Vanyushka. A friend's wife helped look after the child.
Maybe we could have lived with him for another year in Uryupinsk, but in November a sin happened to me: I was driving through the mud, in one farm my car skidded, and then a cow turned up, and I knocked her down. Well, as you know, the women started screaming, people came running, and the traffic inspector was right there. He took away my driver’s book, no matter how much I asked him to have mercy. The cow got up, lifted her tail and started galloping along the alleys, and I lost my book. I worked as a carpenter for the winter, and then got in touch with a friend, also a colleague - he works as a driver in your region, in the Kasharsky district - and he invited me to his place. He writes that if you work in carpentry for six months, then in our region they will give you a new book. So my son and I are going on a business trip to Kashary.
Yes, how can I tell you, and if I hadn’t had this accident with the cow, I would still have left Uryupinsk. Melancholy does not allow me to stay in one place for a long time. When my Vanyushka grows up and I have to send him to school, then maybe I’ll calm down and settle down in one place
Then the boat arrived and the narrator said goodbye to his unexpected acquaintance. And he began to think about the story he had heard.
Two orphaned people, two grains of sand, thrown into foreign lands by a military hurricane of unprecedented force... What awaits them ahead? And I would like to think that this Russian man, a man of unbending will, will endure and grow up next to his father’s shoulder, one who, having matured, will be able to endure everything, overcome everything on his way, if his Motherland calls him to do so.
With heavy sadness I looked after them... Maybe everything would have turned out well if we parted, but Vanyushka, walking away a few steps and braiding his scanty legs, turned to face me as he walked and waved his pink little hand. And suddenly, as if a soft but clawed paw squeezed my heart, I hastily turned away. No, it’s not only in their sleep that elderly men, who have turned gray during the years of war, cry. They cry in reality. The main thing here is to be able to turn away in time. The most important thing here is not to hurt the child’s heart, so that he doesn’t see a burning and stingy man’s tear running down your cheek...
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The story “The Fate of a Man,” which immediately evoked numerous responses from readers, was written by M. Sholokhov in a few days. It was based on impressions from the writer’s meeting with stranger who told the sad story of his life. The work was first published in the New Year's issues of Pravda in 1956-1957.
An unexpected acquaintance
The summary continues with a description of an acquaintance with an older man and a boy of five or six years old: they left the farm and settled down next to the author. A conversation ensued. The stranger said that he was a driver and noted how difficult it was to walk with a small child. The author drew attention to the boy’s good-quality clothes, which were carefully adjusted to his height by women’s hands. However, the patches on the man’s quilted jacket and pants were rough, from which he concluded that he was a widower or did not get along with his wife.
The stranger sent his son to play, and he suddenly said: “I don’t understand why life punished me like this?” And he began his long story. Let's give a brief summary of it.
“The Fate of Man”: Sokolov’s pre-war life
Born in the Voronezh province, he fought in the Red Army during the civil war. In the twenty-second, his parents and sister died of hunger, but he survived - in the Kuban he fought with his fists. Then he settled in Voronezh and got married. The girl was good. They lived peacefully, and he had no one better and dearer than Irinka in the world. He worked at a factory, and from the twenty-ninth he sat behind the wheel and never parted with the car again. Sometimes he drank with his friends, but after the birth of his son and two daughters he gave up alcoholic drinks. He brought all his wages home, and during the pre-war ten years they acquired their own house and farm. There was plenty of everything, and the children were happy with their school successes. This is what Sholokhov talks about in the story “The Fate of a Man.”
And then there was war: on the second day - a summons, on the third - they took me away. When parting, Irina, pale and crying, kept clinging to her husband and repeating that they would not see each other again. Then the hero was dismantled, as he admitted, by evil: he buried him ahead of time! He pushed his wife away from him - albeit lightly, but he still cannot forgive himself for this. I said goodbye to my family and jumped on the train. This is how I remember it: the huddled children waving their hands and trying to smile, and the pale wife standing and whispering something...
Start of the war
Formed in Ukraine. Sokolov received a truck and drove it to the front. They wrote from home often, but he himself rarely answered: everyone retreated, but I didn’t want to complain. The car came under fire more than once and received two minor wounds. And in May '42 he was captured. Sokolov described to the author the circumstances of this absurd, as he put it, incident. This was his story.
A person's fate in war often depends on circumstances. When the Nazis advanced, one of the Russian batteries found itself without shells. They should have been delivered to Sokolov in his truck. It was going to be a difficult task - to break through to our own people through the shelling. And when there was about a kilometer left to reach the battery, the hero felt as if something had burst in his head. When he woke up, he experienced severe pain all over his body, stood up with difficulty and looked around. A car lies overturned nearby, and shells intended for the battery are scattered around. And the sounds of battle are heard somewhere behind. So Sokolov ended up behind the German lines. Sholokhov described all these events very vividly.
“The Fate of Man”: summary. First day in captivity
The hero lay down on the ground and began to observe. First the German tanks drove by, and then the machine gunners came. It was sickening to look at them, but I didn’t want to die lying down. That’s why Sokolov stood up, and the Nazis headed towards him. One even took the machine gun off his shoulder. However, the corporal tested the soldier's muscles and ordered him to be sent west.
Soon Sokolov joined the column of prisoners from his own division. The horrors of captivity are the next part of the story “The Fate of Man.” Sholokhov notes that the seriously wounded were shot immediately. Two soldiers who decided to escape when it got dark also died. At night they entered the village, and the prisoners were driven into old church. The floor is stone, there is no dome, and it also rained so much that everyone got wet. Soon, Sokolov, who was dozing, was woken up by a man: “Aren’t you wounded?” The hero complained of unbearable pain in his arm, and the military doctor, identifying the dislocation, set it in place.
Soon Sokolov heard a quiet conversation next to him. Let's give a brief summary of it. The fate of the person who spoke (it was a platoon commander) depended entirely on his interlocutor, Kryzhnev. The latter admitted that in the morning he would hand over the commander to the Nazis. The hero felt bad from such a betrayal, and he immediately made a decision. When it was just dawn, Sokolov signaled to the platoon commander, a thin and pale boy, to hold the traitor by the legs. And he leaned on the strong Kryzhnev and squeezed his hands on his throat. This is how the hero killed a person for the first time.
In the morning they began to ask communists and commanders, but there were no more traitors. Having shot four at random, the Nazis drove the column further.
Escape attempt
To get out to his own people - this was the hero’s dream from the first day of captivity. Once he managed to escape and even walk about forty kilometers. But at dawn on the fourth day, dogs found Sokolov sleeping in a haystack. The Nazis first brutally beat the captured man and then unleashed the dogs on him. Naked and tortured, they brought him to the camp and threw him into a punishment cell for a month.
Let's continue with the summary. “The Fate of Man” continues with the story of how the hero was driven around Germany for two years, severely beaten, fed so that only skin and bones remained, and he could hardly bear them. And at the same time they were forced to work, just as a draft horse could not do.
In the camp
Sokolov fell near Dresden in September. They worked in a stone quarry: they manually chiseled and crushed the rock. One evening the hero said in his hearts: “They need four cubic meters, but for us one is enough for the grave.” This was reported to Commandant Müller, who was particularly cruel. He liked to hit prisoners in the face with his hand, which was wearing a lead-lined glove.
Sholokhov's story “The Fate of a Man” continues with the fact that the commandant summoned Sokolov to his place. The hero said goodbye to everyone, remembered his family and prepared to die. The authorities feasted, and Muller, seeing the prisoner, asked if he had said that one cubic meter of land was enough for him for a grave. And, having received an affirmative answer, he promised to personally shoot him. And then he poured a glass of vodka and handed it to the prisoner with a piece of bread and lard: “For our victory.” Sokolov supplied schnapps, declaring that he did not drink. “Well then, for your death,” answered the commandant. The hero poured vodka into himself in two sips, but did not touch the bread: “I don’t eat after the first.” And only after the third glass (“before I die, I’ll at least get drunk”) he took a bite of a small piece of bread. The smiling Müller became serious: “You are a brave soldier, and I respect such people. And our troops at the Volga. That’s why I give you life.” And he held out the bread and lard. The intoxicated hero stumbled into the barracks and fell asleep. And the grub was divided equally among everyone.
The escape
Soon Sokolov was sent to a new place, where he began to drive a small and fat engineer major. Near Polotsk - it was 1944 - the Russians were already standing. The hero decided that there would be no better opportunity to escape. He prepared a weight, a piece of wire, and even took off the drunken German’s uniform. In the morning, driving out of town, he stopped and hit the sleeping major on the head. Then he tied him up and headed towards the Russian troops. Survived under double shelling and brought the tongue to headquarters. For this, the colonel, promising to present him for an award, sent him to the hospital, and then on leave.
This is the summary. “The Fate of Man,” however, does not end there.
Scary news
In the hospital, the hero received a letter from a neighbor. He said that back in '42, during a raid, a bomb hit his house - only one crater remained. His wife and daughters died, and his son, who was in the city that day, volunteered for the front. After receiving treatment, Sokolov went to Voronezh, stood by the crater and went back to the division. And soon I received a letter from my son, but I couldn’t see him alive either - on May 9, Anatoly was killed. Again Sokolov was left alone in the whole world.
Vanyushka
After the war, he settled with friends in Uryupinsk and got a job as a driver. Once I saw a boy near the tea shop - dirty, ragged and with shiny eyes. On the fourth day, he called me into his booth, randomly calling her Vanyushka. And, it turned out, he guessed right. The boy told how his mother was killed and his father died at the front. “We can’t disappear alone,” Sokolov decided. And he called himself the surviving father. He brought the boy to his friends, washed him, combed his hair, bought clothes, which the owner adjusted to his height. And now they are going to look for a new place to live. My only concern is that my heart is playing tricks, it’s scary to die in my sleep and frighten my little son. He also constantly dreams about his family - he wants to get to his wife and children from behind the wire, but they disappear.
Then the voice of a comrade was heard, and the author said goodbye to his new acquaintances. And when Sokolov and his son walked away, Vanyushka suddenly turned around and waved his hand. At that moment, the narrator felt as if someone had squeezed his heart. “No, it’s not only men who cry in their sleep,” M. Sholokhov ends his work “The Fate of Man” with this phrase.
Spring. Upper Don. The narrator and a friend rode on a chaise drawn by two horses to the village of Bukanovskaya. It was difficult to travel - the snow began to melt, the mud was impassable. And here near the Mokhovsky farm there is the Elanka River. Small in the summer, now it has spilled over a whole kilometer. Together with a driver who came from nowhere, the narrator swims across the river on some dilapidated boat. The driver drove a Willis car parked in the barn to the river, got into the boat and went back. He promised to return in two hours.
The narrator sat down on a fallen fence and wanted to smoke - but the cigarettes got wet during the crossing. He would have been bored for two hours in silence, alone, without food, water, booze or smoking - when a man with a child came up to him and said hello. The man (this was the main character of the further story, Andrei Sokolov) mistook the narrator for a driver - because of the car standing next to him and came up to talk to his colleague: he himself was a driver, only in a truck. The narrator did not upset his interlocutor by revealing his true profession (which remained unknown to the reader) and lied about what the authorities were waiting for.
Sokolov replied that he was in no hurry, but wanted to take a smoke break. Smoking alone is boring. Seeing the cigarettes laid out to dry, he treated the narrator to his own tobacco.
They lit a cigarette and started talking. The narrator was embarrassed because of the petty deception, so he listened more, and Sokolov spoke.
Pre-war life of Sokolov
At first my life was ordinary. I myself am a native of the Voronezh province, born in 1900. During the civil war he was in the Red Army, in the Kikvidze division. In the hungry year of twenty-two, he went to Kuban to fight the kulaks, and that’s why he survived. And the father, mother and sister died of hunger at home. One left. Rodney - even if you roll a ball - nowhere, no one, not a single soul. Well, a year later he returned from Kuban, sold his little house, and went to Voronezh. At first he worked in a carpentry artel, then he went to a factory and learned to be a mechanic. Soon he got married. The wife was brought up in an orphanage. Orphan. I got a good girl! Quiet, cheerful, obsequious and smart, no match for me. Since childhood, she learned how much a pound is worth, maybe this affected her character. Looking from the outside, she wasn’t that distinguished, but I wasn’t looking at her from the outside, but point-blank. And for me there was nothing more beautiful and desirable than her, there was not in the world and there never will be!
You come home from work tired, and sometimes angry as hell. No, she will not be rude to you in response to a rude word. Affectionate, quiet, doesn’t know where to sit you, struggles to prepare a sweet piece for you even with little income. You look at her and move away with your heart, and after a little you hug her and say: “Sorry, dear Irinka, I was rude to you. You see, my work isn’t going well these days.” And again we have peace, and I have peace of mind.
Then he talked again about his wife, how she loved him and did not reproach him even when he had to drink too much with his comrades. But soon they had children - a son, and then two daughters. Then the drinking was over - unless I allowed myself a glass of beer on the day off.
In 1929 he became interested in cars. He became a truck driver. Lived well and made good. And then there is war.
War and Captivity
The whole family accompanied him to the front. The children kept themselves under control, but the wife was very upset - they say, this is the last time we’ll see each other, Andryusha... In general, it’s already sickening, and now my wife is burying me alive. In upset feelings he left for the front.
During the war he was also a driver. Lightly wounded twice.
In May 1942 he found himself near Lozovenki. The Germans were going on the offensive, and he volunteered to go to the front line to carry ammunition to our artillery battery. It didn’t deliver the ammunition - the shell fell very close, and the blast wave overturned the car. Sokolov lost consciousness. When I woke up, I realized that I was behind enemy lines: the battle was thundering somewhere behind, and tanks were walking past. Pretended to be dead. When he decided that everyone had passed, he raised his head and saw six fascists with machine guns walking straight towards him. There was nowhere to hide, so I decided to die with dignity - I stood up, although I could barely stand on my feet, and looked at them. One of the soldiers wanted to shoot him, but the other held him back. They took off Sokolov's boots and sent him on foot to the west.
After some time, a column of prisoners from the same division as himself caught up with the barely walking Sokolov. I walked on with them.
We spent the night in the church. Three noteworthy events happened overnight:
a) A certain person, who introduced himself as a military doctor, set Sokolov’s arm, which was dislocated during a fall from a truck.
b) Sokolov saved from death a platoon commander he did not know, whom his colleague Kryzhnev was going to hand over to the Nazis as a communist. Sokolov strangled the traitor.
c) The Nazis shot a believer who was bothering them with requests to be let out of the church to go to the toilet.
The next morning they began to ask who was the commander, the commissar, the communist. There were no traitors, so the communists, commissars and commanders remained alive. They shot a Jew (perhaps it was a military doctor - at least that’s how the case is presented in the film) and three Russians who looked like Jews. They drove the prisoners further west.
All the way to Poznan Sokolov thought about escape. Finally, an opportunity presented itself: the prisoners were sent to dig graves, the guards were distracted - he pulled to the east. On the fourth day, the Nazis and their shepherd dogs caught up with him, and Sokolov’s dogs almost killed him. He was kept in a punishment cell for a month, then sent to Germany.
“They sent me everywhere during my two years of captivity! During this time he traveled through half of Germany: he was in Saxony, he worked at a silicate plant, and in the Ruhr region he rolled out coal at a mine, and in Bavaria he made a living on earthworks, and he was in Thuringia, and the devil, wherever he had to, according to German walk the earth"
On the brink of death
In camp B-14 near Dresden, Sokolov and others worked in a stone quarry. He managed to return one day after work to say, in the barracks, among other prisoners: “They need four cubic meters of output, but for the grave of each of us, one cubic meter through the eyes is enough.”
Someone reported these words to the authorities and the commandant of the camp, Müller, summoned him to his office. Muller knew Russian perfectly, so he communicated with Sokolov without an interpreter.
“I will do you a great honor, now I will personally shoot you for these words. It’s inconvenient here, let’s go into the yard and sign there.” “Your will,” I tell him. He stood there, thought, and then threw the pistol on the table and poured a full glass of schnapps, took a piece of bread, put a slice of bacon on it and gave it all to me and said: “Before you die, Russian Ivan, drink to the victory of German weapons.”
I put the glass on the table, put down the snack and said: “Thank you for the treat, but I don’t drink.” He smiles: “Would you like to drink to our victory? In that case, drink to your death.” What did I have to lose? “I will drink to my death and deliverance from torment,” I tell him. With that, I took the glass and poured it into myself in two gulps, but didn’t touch the appetizer, politely wiped my lips with my palm and said: “Thank you for the treat. I’m ready, Herr Commandant, come and sign me.”
But he looks attentively and says: “At least have a bite before you die.” I answer him: “I don’t have a snack after the first glass.” He pours a second one and gives it to me. I drank the second one and again I don’t touch the snack, I’m trying to be brave, I think: “At least I’ll get drunk before I go into the yard and give up my life.” The commandant raised his white eyebrows high and asked: “Why aren’t you having a snack, Russian Ivan? Do not be shy!" And I told him: “Sorry, Herr Commandant, I’m not used to having a snack even after the second glass.” He puffed out his cheeks, snorted, and then burst into laughter and through his laughter said something quickly in German: apparently, he was translating my words to his friends. They also laughed, moved their chairs, turned their muzzles towards me and, I noticed, they were looking at me somehow differently, seemingly softer.
The commandant pours me a third glass, and his hands are shaking with laughter. I drank this glass, took a small bite of bread, and put the rest on the table. I wanted to show them, the damned one, that although I was disappearing from hunger, I was not going to choke on their handouts, that I had my own, Russian dignity and pride, and that they did not turn me into a beast, no matter how hard they tried.
After this, the commandant became serious in appearance, straightened two iron crosses on his chest, came out from behind the table unarmed and said: “That's what, Sokolov, you are a real Russian soldier. You are a brave soldier. I am also a soldier and respect worthy opponents. I won't shoot you. In addition, today our valiant troops reached the Volga and completely captured Stalingrad. This is a great joy for us, and therefore I generously give you life. Go to your block, and this is for your courage,” and from the table he hands me a small loaf of bread and a piece of lard.
Kharchi divided Sokolov with his comrades - everyone equally.
Release from captivity
In 1944, Sokolov was assigned as a driver. He drove a German major engineer. He treated him well, sometimes sharing food.
On the morning of June twenty-ninth, my major orders him to be taken out of town, in the direction of Trosnitsa. There he supervised the construction of fortifications. We left.
On the way, Sokolov stunned the major, took the pistol and drove the car straight to where the earth was humming, where the battle was going on.
The machine gunners jumped out of the dugout, and I deliberately slowed down so that they could see that the major was coming. But they started shouting, waving their arms, saying you can’t go there, but I didn’t seem to understand, I threw on the gas and went at full eighty. Until they came to their senses and began firing machine guns at the car, and I was already in no man’s land between the craters, weaving like a hare.
Here the Germans are hitting me from behind, and here their outlines are firing towards me from machine guns. The windshield was pierced in four places, the radiator was pierced by bullets... But now there was a forest above the lake, our people were running towards the car, and I jumped into this forest, opened the door, fell to the ground and kissed it, and I couldn’t breathe...
They sent Sokolov to the hospital for treatment and food. In the hospital I immediately wrote a letter to my wife. Two weeks later I received a response from neighbor Ivan Timofeevich. In June 1942, a bomb hit his house, killing his wife and both daughters. My son was not at home. Having learned about the death of his relatives, he volunteered for the front.
Sokolov was discharged from the hospital and received a month's leave. A week later I reached Voronezh. He looked at the crater in the place where his house was - and that same day he went to the station. Back to the division.
Son Anatoly
But three months later, joy flashed through me, like the sun from behind a cloud: Anatoly was found. He sent a letter to me at the front, apparently from another front. I learned my address from a neighbor, Ivan Timofeevich. It turns out that he first ended up in an artillery school; This is where his talents for mathematics came in handy. A year later he graduated from college with honors, went to the front and now writes that he received the rank of captain, commands a battery of “forty-fives”, has six orders and medals.
After the war
Andrey was demobilized. Where to go? I didn’t want to go to Voronezh.
I remembered that my friend lived in Uryupinsk, demobilized in the winter due to injury - he once invited me to his place - I remembered and went to Uryupinsk.
My friend and his wife were childless and lived in their own house on the edge of the city. Although he had a disability, he worked as a driver in an auto company, and I got a job there too. I stayed with a friend and they gave me shelter.
Near the teahouse he met a homeless boy, Vanya. His mother died in an air raid (during the evacuation, probably), his father died at the front. One day, on the way to the elevator, Sokolov took Vanyushka with him and told him that he was his father. The boy believed and was very happy. He adopted Vanyushka. A friend's wife helped look after the child.
Maybe we could have lived with him for another year in Uryupinsk, but in November a sin happened to me: I was driving through the mud, in one farm my car skidded, and then a cow turned up, and I knocked her down. Well, as you know, the women started screaming, people came running, and the traffic inspector was right there. He took away my driver’s book, no matter how much I asked him to have mercy. The cow got up, lifted her tail and started galloping along the alleys, and I lost my book. I worked as a carpenter for the winter, and then got in touch with a friend, also a colleague - he works as a driver in your region, in the Kasharsky district - and he invited me to his place. He writes that if you work in carpentry for six months, then in our region they will give you a new book. So my son and I are going on a business trip to Kashary.
Yes, how can I tell you, and if I hadn’t had this accident with the cow, I would still have left Uryupinsk. Melancholy does not allow me to stay in one place for a long time. When my Vanyushka grows up and I have to send him to school, then maybe I’ll calm down and settle down in one place
Then the boat arrived and the narrator said goodbye to his unexpected acquaintance. And he began to think about the story he had heard.
Two orphaned people, two grains of sand, thrown into foreign lands by a military hurricane of unprecedented force... What awaits them ahead? And I would like to think that this Russian man, a man of unbending will, will endure and grow up next to his father’s shoulder, one who, having matured, will be able to endure everything, overcome everything on his way, if his Motherland calls him to do so.
With heavy sadness I looked after them... Maybe everything would have turned out well if we parted, but Vanyushka, walking away a few steps and braiding his scanty legs, turned to face me as he walked and waved his pink little hand. And suddenly, as if a soft but clawed paw squeezed my heart, I hastily turned away. No, it’s not only in their sleep that elderly men, who have turned gray during the years of war, cry. They cry in reality. The main thing here is to be able to turn away in time. The most important thing here is not to hurt the child’s heart, so that he doesn’t see a burning and stingy man’s tear running down your cheek...
Retold by Mikhail Shtokalo for Briefly. On the cover: Still from the 1959 film “The Fate of Man.”
Great Patriotic War even after many decades remains the greatest blow for the whole world. What a tragedy this is for the fighting Soviet people, who lost the most people in this bloody battle! The lives of many (both military and civilian) were ruined. Sholokhov's story “The Fate of Man” truthfully depicts these sufferings, not of an individual person, but of the entire people who stood up to defend their Motherland.
The story “The Fate of a Man” is based on real events: M.A. Sholokhov met a man who told him his tragic biography. This story was almost a ready-made plot, but did not immediately turn into literary work. The writer nurtured his idea for 10 years, but put it on paper in just a few days. And dedicated it to E. Levitskaya, who helped him print main novel his life "Quiet Don".
The story was published in the Pravda newspaper on the eve of the new year, 1957. And soon it was read on All-Union Radio and heard throughout the country. Listeners and readers were shocked by the power and truthfulness of this work, and it gained well-deserved popularity. In literary terms, this book opened up for writers new way reveal the theme of war through the fate of a little man.
The essence of the story
The author accidentally meets the main character Andrei Sokolov and his son Vanyushka. During the forced delay at the crossing, the men started talking, and a casual acquaintance told the writer his story. This is what he told him.
Before the war, Andrei lived like everyone else: wife, children, household, work. But then thunder struck, and the hero went to the front, where he served as a driver. One fateful day, Sokolov’s car came under fire and he was shell-shocked. So he was captured.
A group of prisoners was brought to the church for the night, many incidents happened that night: the shooting of a believer who could not desecrate the church (they didn’t even let him out “until the wind”), and with him several people who accidentally fell under machine gun fire, help from a doctor to Sokolov and others wounded. Also, the main character had to strangle another prisoner, since he turned out to be a traitor and was going to hand over the commissioner. Even during the next transfer to the concentration camp, Andrei tried to escape, but was caught by dogs, who stripped him of his last clothes and bit him so much that “the skin and meat flew into shreds.”
Then the concentration camp: inhuman work, almost starvation, beatings, humiliation - that’s what Sokolov had to endure. “They need four cubic meters of production, but for the grave of each of us, one cubic meter through the eyes is enough!” - Andrei said imprudently. And for this he appeared before Lagerführer Müller. They wanted to shoot the main character, but he overcame his fear, bravely drank three glasses of schnapps to his death, for which he earned respect, a loaf of bread and a piece of lard.
Towards the end of hostilities, Sokolov was appointed driver. And finally, an opportunity arose to escape, and even together with the engineer whom the hero was driving. Before the joy of salvation had time to subside, grief arrived: he learned about the death of his family (a shell hit the house), and all this time he lived only in the hope of a meeting. One son survived. Anatoly also defended his homeland, and Sokolov and he simultaneously approached Berlin from different directions. But right on the day of victory they killed last hope. Andrey was left all alone.
Subjects
The main theme of the story is a man at war. These tragic events are an indicator personal qualities: V extreme situations those character traits that are usually hidden are revealed, it is clear who is who in reality. Before the war, Andrei Sokolov was not particularly different; he was like everyone else. But in battle, having survived captivity and constant danger to life, he proved himself. His truly heroic qualities were revealed: patriotism, courage, perseverance, will. On the other hand, a prisoner like Sokolov, probably also no different in ordinary peaceful life, was going to betray his commissar in order to curry favor with the enemy. Thus, the theme of moral choice is also reflected in the work.
Also M.A. Sholokhov touches on the topic of willpower. The war took away from the main character not only his health and strength, but also his entire family. He has no home, how can he continue to live, what to do next, how to find meaning? This question has interested hundreds of thousands of people who have experienced similar losses. And for Sokolov, caring for the boy Vanyushka, who was also left without a home and family, became a new meaning. And for his sake, for the sake of the future of his country, you need to live on. Here is the disclosure of the theme of the search for the meaning of life - its real man finds love and hope for the future.
Issues
- The problem of choice occupies an important place in the story. Every person faces a choice every day. But not everyone has to choose on pain of death, knowing that your fate depends on this decision. So, Andrei had to decide: to betray or remain faithful to the oath, to bend under the blows of the enemy or to fight. Sokolov was able to remain a worthy person and citizen because he determined his priorities, guided by honor and morality, and not by the instinct of self-preservation, fear or meanness.
- The whole fate of the hero, in his life trials, reflects the problem of defenselessness common man in the face of war. Little depends on him; circumstances are falling on him, from which he is trying to get out at least alive. And if Andrei was able to save himself, then his family was not. And he feels guilty about it, even though he isn't.
- The problem of cowardice is realized in the work through secondary characters. The image of a traitor who, for the sake of immediate gain, is ready to sacrifice the life of a fellow soldier, becomes a counterweight to the image of the brave and strong-willed Sokolov. And there were such people in the war, says the author, but there were fewer of them, that’s the only reason we won.
- The tragedy of war. Numerous losses were suffered not only by the military units, but also by civilians who could not defend themselves in any way.
- Andrei Sokolov is an ordinary person, one of many who had to leave their peaceful existence in order to defend their homeland. He exchanges a simple and happy life for the dangers of war, without even imagining how he can remain on the sidelines. In extreme circumstances, he maintains spiritual nobility, shows willpower and perseverance. Under the blows of fate, he managed not to break. And find a new meaning in life, which reveals his kindness and responsiveness, because he sheltered an orphan.
- Vanyushka is a lonely boy who has to spend the night wherever he can. His mother was killed during the evacuation, his father at the front. Ragged, dusty, in watermelon juice- this is how he appeared before Sokolov. And Andrei could not leave the child, he introduced himself as his father, giving both himself and him a chance for a further normal life.
Characteristics of the main characters
What is the meaning of the work?
One of the main ideas of the story is the need to take into account the lessons of the war. The example of Andrei Sokolov shows not what war can do to a person, but what it can do to all of humanity. Prisoners tortured in concentration camps, orphaned children, destroyed families, scorched fields - this should never be repeated, and therefore should not be forgotten.
No less important is the idea that in any, even the most terrible situation, one must remain human and not become like an animal that, out of fear, acts only on the basis of instincts. Survival is the main thing for anyone, but if this comes at the cost of betraying oneself, one’s comrades, one’s Motherland, then the surviving soldier is no longer a person, he is not worthy of this title. Sokolov did not betray his ideals, did not break, although he went through something that is difficult for a modern reader to even imagine.
Genre
The story is short literary genre, revealing one storyline and several images of heroes. “The Fate of Man” refers specifically to him.
However, if you look closely at the composition of the work, you can clarify general definition, because this is a story within a story. First, the story is narrated by the author, who, by the will of fate, met and talked with his character. Andrei Sokolov himself describes his difficult life; the first-person narration allows readers to better understand the hero’s feelings and understand him. The author's remarks are introduced to characterize the hero from the outside (“eyes, as if sprinkled with ashes,” “I didn’t see a single tear in his seemingly dead, extinct eyes... only his large, limply lowered hands trembled slightly, his chin trembled, his hard lips trembled”) and show how deeply this strong man suffers.
What values does Sholokhov promote?
The main value for the author (and for readers) is peace. Peace between states, peace in society, peace in the human soul. The war destroyed the happy life of Andrei Sokolov, as well as many people. The echo of the war still does not subside, so its lessons must not be forgotten (although often in Lately this event is overestimated for political purposes that are far from the ideals of humanism).
Also, the writer does not forget about the eternal values of the individual: nobility, courage, will, desire to help. The time of knights and noble dignity has long passed, but true nobility does not depend on origin, it is in the soul, expressed in its ability to show mercy and empathy, even if the world is collapsing. This story is a great lesson in courage and morality for modern readers.
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Plot
Screen adaptation
In 1959, the story was filmed by Soviet director Sergei Bondarchuk, who played main role. The film “The Fate of a Man” was awarded the main prize at the Moscow Film Festival in 1959 and opened the way for the director to big cinema.
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Notes
Literature
- Leiderman N. L.“Monumental story” by M. Sholokhov // Russian literary classics of the 20th century. - Ekaterinburg, 1996. - P. 217-245. - ISBN 5-7186-0083-X.
- Pavlovsky A. Russian character (about the hero of M. Sholokhov’s story “The Fate of Man”) // The problem of character in modern Soviet literature. - M.-L. , 1962.
- Larin B. M. Sholokhov's story “The Fate of a Man” (An Experience in Form Analysis) // Neva. - 1959. - No. 9.
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An excerpt characterizing the fate of man
A bottle of rum was brought; the frame that did not allow anyone to sit on the outer slope of the window was broken out by two footmen, apparently in a hurry and timid from the advice and shouts of the surrounding gentlemen.Anatole walked up to the window with his victorious look. He wanted to break something. He pushed the lackeys away and pulled the frame, but the frame did not give up. He broke the glass.
“Well, how are you, strong man,” he turned to Pierre.
Pierre took hold of the crossbars, pulled, and with a crash the oak frame turned out.
“Get out, otherwise they’ll think I’m holding on,” said Dolokhov.
“The Englishman is bragging... huh?... good?...” said Anatole.
“Okay,” said Pierre, looking at Dolokhov, who, taking a bottle of rum in his hands, was approaching the window from which the light of the sky and the morning and evening dawns merging on it could be seen.
Dolokhov, with a bottle of rum in his hand, jumped up onto the window. "Listen!"
he shouted, standing on the windowsill and turning into the room. Everyone fell silent.
- I bet (he spoke French so that an Englishman could understand him, and did not speak this language very well). I bet you fifty imperials, would you like a hundred? - he added, turning to the Englishman.
“No, fifty,” said the Englishman.
- Okay, for fifty imperials - that I will drink the entire bottle of rum without taking it from my mouth, I will drink it while sitting outside the window, right here (he bent down and showed the sloping ledge of the wall outside the window) and without holding on to anything... So? ...
“Very good,” said the Englishman.
Anatole turned to the Englishman and, taking him by the button of his tailcoat and looking down at him (the Englishman was short), began repeating to him the terms of the bet in English.
- Wait! - Dolokhov shouted, banging the bottle on the window to attract attention. - Wait, Kuragin; listen. If anyone does the same, then I pay one hundred imperials. Do you understand?
The Englishman nodded his head, not giving any indication as to whether he intended to accept this new bet or not. Anatole did not let go of the Englishman and, despite the fact that he nodded, letting him know that he understood everything, Anatole translated Dolokhov’s words to him in English. A young thin boy, a life hussar, who had lost that evening, climbed onto the window, leaned out and looked down.
“Uh!... uh!... uh!...” he said, looking out the window at the stone sidewalk.
- Attention! - Dolokhov shouted and pulled the officer from the window, who, entangled in his spurs, awkwardly jumped into the room.
Having placed the bottle on the windowsill so that it would be convenient to get it, Dolokhov carefully and quietly climbed out the window. Dropping his legs and leaning both hands on the edges of the window, he measured himself, sat down, lowered his hands, moved to the right, to the left and took out a bottle. Anatole brought two candles and put them on the windowsill, although it was already quite light. Dolokhov's back in a white shirt and his curly head were illuminated from both sides. Everyone crowded around the window. The Englishman stood in front. Pierre smiled and said nothing. One of those present, older than the others, with a frightened and angry face, suddenly moved forward and wanted to grab Dolokhov by the shirt.
- Gentlemen, this is nonsense; he will be killed to death,” said this more prudent man.
Anatole stopped him:
“Don’t touch it, you’ll scare him and he’ll kill himself.” Eh?... What then?... Eh?...
Dolokhov turned around, straightening himself and again spreading his arms.
“If anyone else bothers me,” he said, rarely letting words slip through his clenched and thin lips, “I’ll bring him down here now.” Well!…
Having said “well”!, he turned again, let go of his hands, took the bottle and brought it to his mouth, threw his head back and threw his free hand up for leverage. One of the footmen, who began to pick up the glass, stopped in a bent position, not taking his eyes off the window and Dolokhov’s back. Anatole stood straight, eyes open. The Englishman, his lips thrust forward, looked from the side. The one who stopped him ran to the corner of the room and lay down on the sofa facing the wall. Pierre covered his face, and a weak smile, forgotten, remained on his face, although it now expressed horror and fear. Everyone was silent. Pierre took his hands away from his eyes: Dolokhov was still sitting in the same position, only his head was bent back, so that the curly hair of the back of his head touched the collar of his shirt, and the hand with the bottle rose higher and higher, shuddering and making an effort. The bottle was apparently emptied and at the same time rose, bending its head. “What’s taking so long?” thought Pierre. It seemed to him that more than half an hour had passed. Suddenly Dolokhov made a backward movement with his back, and his hand trembled nervously; this shudder was enough to move the entire body sitting on the sloping slope. He shifted all over, and his hand and head trembled even more, making an effort. One hand rose to grab the window sill, but dropped again. Pierre closed his eyes again and told himself that he would never open them. Suddenly he felt that everything around him was moving. He looked: Dolokhov was standing on the windowsill, his face was pale and cheerful.
