"These memories were hard for him." What was war hero Leonid Lemeshkov like?

Leonid Lemeshkov. Mid-1940s. News Topics. Rain poured almost all the way to Rogachev, spreading along the roadsides in bubbly spring puddles. As we approached the city, the sun smiled, the rapeseed fields shone golden, and the drainage canals sparkled. "A good omen," I thought. "Apparently, we didn't travel those two hundred-odd kilometers in vain."
Alas, Oleg Leonidovich Lemeshkov, to whom we had made a special trip, didn't answer the call right away. He was even a little disappointing:

"You'll have to wait a bit: I'm outside the city right now, picking up building materials. I'll unload and be free until the evening."

From our phone conversations, I already knew that Oleg Leonidovich was a building maintenance specialist at the local Community Center. He was as busy as a bee in the Dnieper floodplains. So I understood the forced delay. I'd also heard from Lemeshkov that his father, Leonid Sergeyevich, was just as hardworking and thrifty. A front-line soldier, teacher, amateur artist, and poet. An interesting, profound personality! Gennady Titovich, DIRECTOR of the "Soldat's Forest" museum at the Rogachev Center for Tourism and Local History, who had known the veteran for many years, told me about it. I called him.

"Perhaps it's for the best that Oleg is delayed," Gennady Vasilyevich laughed. "There's an interesting presentation at the Book House right now; check it out.
" Local historian Gennady Titovich, director of the "Soldat's Forest" museum

. Quite a few admirers of the local historian had gathered in the grand hall of the former zemstvo council. They listened with rapt attention to the local noble families and the project to build the Rogachev fortress, which could have played a significant role in the war with Napoleon, but... it was never built.

My thoughts were also preoccupied with history, but much more recent than the events of the early 19th century. The Great Patriotic War had furrowed the Rogachev land with anti-tank ditches and trenches, sent sons to the front, and scorched towns and villages with fires. Leonid Sergeyevich Lemeshkov returned from the war, but many of his relatives perished in fields, mass graves, and unmarked cemeteries.

"Our museum exhibit contains items that belonged to Lemeshkov Sr.," Gennady Vasilyevich said, as if reading my thoughts.

A two-minute drive brought us into the museum. The exhibit area is only 25 square meters. According to Titovich, it contains everything that has been recovered from the Rogachev swamps over the decades of the search club's existence: wreckage of Soviet and enemy aircraft, various military fragments. Two display cases at opposite ends of the room are dedicated to Leonid Sergeevich Lemeshkov and his wife, Zinaida Petrovna: photographs, badges, a miniature reproduction, and a tiny alarm clock from the 1970s.
A still life of his father, a front-line soldier, has become a family heirloom.

While we were exploring the exhibits, the phone rang. Oleg Leonidovich said he'd already finished some urgent business and was waiting for us outside the Community Center. A hundred steps, tops, and we were there! A thin man in a baseball cap stood guard at the door. He extended a strong hand as we greeted him. I was a little surprised: Oleg Leonidovich's youthful gait seemed at odds with his 55 years of age.

He was born in Rogachev. Before joining the army, he graduated from Vocational School No. 150, specializing in instrument making, specializing in mechanical assembly work, and then from the Gomel Radio School. He returned to his hometown and found a job at the Community Center as a lighting and sound engineer. He dedicated nineteen years to this institution. He then worked in MINSK as a building maintenance specialist.

- I worked for 13 years, practically on a rotational basis: 15-20 days in the capital, eight in Rogachev, - Oleg Leonidovich smiles.
Leonid Lemeshkov (center) on vacation at the Zhemchuzhina sanatorium near Yalta. 1949

It so happened that the second time Lemeshkov Jr. married... his first love. He moved his beloved woman from Kobrin to Rogachev. That's how he ended up in his current place.

In his basement work "office" hangs a painting by his father, a front-line soldier. It seems like a simple still life, but it touches the depths of the soul: baskets of mushrooms, a pile of fresh crispy cucumbers, a pumpkin, a tomato, columns of coins. In a copper bowl, a freshly caught fish is still breathingfish . A wounded duck dimly glimmers with dark feathers. Cool MILK splashes in a round jug covered with a towel , and well water in a decanter.

It’s hard to believe that an ordinary teacher created the canvas – the disparate objects harmonize so closely with each other, and the brown, ochre-red, golden and dark green tones merge into a single chord.

“Most of my father’s works were distributed among friends, and it’s not easy to find them,” says Oleg Leonidovich. “He was a generous man: he gave from the heart and didn’t expect gratitude.” “

Did he have any war sketches?” I ask.

“He became interested in painting after the war and didn’t paint battle scenes,” answers Lemeshkov Jr., looking intently at his father’s painting. “Only still lifes and landscapes. And he didn’t like to talk about the war. Sometimes they'd invite him to school, he'd chat with the kids, and then spend a week at home... These memories were hard for him.
The "Soldier's Forest" museum houses the military awards, documents, and personal belongings of Leonid and Zinaida Lemeshkov.

Oleg Leonidovich tells an amazing story about his father. Of the entire platoon he commanded, he was the only one to survive. A bullet or shrapnel grazed his ear, and his toes were frozen. He crawled back to his men for several days, like Alexei Maresyev. After that, not a single wound! It was as if he'd been bewitched.

Leonid Lemeshkov was seventeen when the war began. Two days later, he went to the front, either through the Rechitsa or Buda-Koshelevo military registration and enlistment offices, with the rank of lieutenant.

"He went to school," says his son. "Perhaps a military school. But I'm not sure, and my father never talked about it."

However, military training was conducted at many educational institutions at that time, and upon graduation, young men were awarded officer ranks.

His mother and three younger sisters remained in the ancient village of Luchin, near Rogachev. Here, on the high banks of the Dnieper, he spent his barefoot childhood. When he left for the front, he was unable to say goodbye to his family. For almost three years, Leonid knew nothing about them, and his mother and sisters knew nothing about him.
Baba Vera is Leonid Lemeshkov's mother. 1980s.

The young lieutenant commanded a flamethrower platoon and served in reconnaissance. He defended Moscow. In February 1943, as part of the 72nd Rifle Division, he participated in an unsuccessful attempt to break the siege of Leningrad. He fought in the Kuban region. He liberated Ukraine, Romania, Hungary, and Austria. Victory Day found him in Czechoslovakia. He was awarded the Order of the Patriotic War, 2nd Class, the Order of the Red Star, and the Medal "For Military Merit." "Comrade Lemeshkov is a disciplined commander, demanding of himself and his subordinates. In battle, he is courageous and decisive, persistent in his decisions," reads one of his awards.

Until 1957, Leonid Lemeshkov served in Berlin. He returned to Luchin several times on leave. The Germans burned his native village twice – in 1941 and 1944. Many residents were killed. Fortunately, his mother and sisters survived, although they suffered greatly at the hands of the occupiers.

His son doesn't know how or where Leonid met Zinaida.
"He was a generous man: he gave from the heart and didn't expect gratitude." "They never told me," says Oleg Leonidovich. "They met and never parted. They even have similar last names: Lepeshkina and Lemeshkov." His mother followed his father to Germany. After their return, they settled in Rogachev. He taught labor and military science in schools, and she worked at the district sanitary and epidemiological station.

Oleg was born in the district center in 1970. Or maybe not here?

"I'm an adopted son," he suddenly admits. "They took me from an orphanage."

He found out about this when he was already a father himself.
The Lemeshkov family: Leonid Sergeyevich, Oleg, Zinaida Petrovna. 1972.

His mother-in-law said in a fit of anger: "You're not biological, and all your friends know."

Oleg didn't tell his adoptive parents anything back then. He remained a devoted and loving son until their death, learning from them how to be a real man.

Oleg's father tenderly cared for his elderly mother for many years. Grandma Vera went blind at 90, but she didn't want to leave her native Luchin to move in with her children.

"During the war, Germans were quartered in Grandma's house. They forced her to serve them.

When it became completely unbearable, she pretended to go into the garden and hid somewhere for two days. And when she returned, a German hit her on the HEAD with a rifle butt," Oleg Leonidovich recounts.

Over time, he figured out why he was adopted. In February 1944, eleven-year-old Zina Lepeshkina, along with her parents, brothers, and sisters, was thrown into the Ozarichi concentration camp. Her memoirs, recorded by Rogachev schoolchildren, are kept in the "Soldier's Forest" museum. Reading them sends a shudder down your spine: "On the damp ground, under the open sky, were both children and adults. People drank water from melted snow. Sometimes the Germans brought bread, threw it into the mud behind the barbed wire, and the hungry people ran and greedily grabbed the dirty, typhus-infected bread. The Germans wanted to infect as many people as possible in order to exterminate Soviet soldiers."
Pages from Leonid Lemeshkov's front-line diary.

Zinaida Petrovna no longer remembers how many days the children had to sit in the frozen swamp, hungry, barefoot, and under the open sky. Many people died. The prisoners of the Ozarichi camps were liberated by Soviet soldiers on March 18-19, 1944. Zinaida's HEALTH was deteriorating. She was unable to bear a child, but the Lemeshkovs desperately wanted children. Thus, Oleg was born into the family.

" I only remember the brightest things about my parents," says her 55-year-old son as we drive to school to meet his granddaughter, Milana. She's nine—a little older than my grandmother, Zinaida, was when the war began.
"I'm adopted, after all. They took me from an orphanage." It's a celebration at Rogachev Secondary School No. 2 —the last bell rang. Milana Lemeshkova is saying goodbye to elementary school. Starting in September, school will become more serious and challenging, but for now, she's carefree and playing with the local kids' favorite cat—a big, fluffy cat.

"He was a hero; he shot at Nazi tanks," she tells us about her great-grandfather.

We find Milana's father, Vladislav Lemeshkov, in the five-story building on the edge of Ozerny Park, where she lives. It's the middle of the workday, so her mother is at work. Leonid Sergeyevich and Zinaida Petrovna used to live in this apartment. The home now resembles a modern studio with a distinctly stylish renovation.

"Vlad and I did this ourselves," Oleg Leonidovich says proudly. "Vlad's father, his grandfather, taught us.
Leonid Lemeshkov." The late 1970s.

Vlad is a strong, solid young man. And, as he himself assures us, he doesn't fly into the clouds. He says that his grandfather was a kind and open person. They rarely talked about the war with him: they were looking after the veteran.

"Sometimes images and memories would flash through my mind, but I never specifically asked about them. I talked to him like a grandson with his grandfather. I trusted him with my childhood secrets and dreams, and he always supported me, helped me, taught me. He was a reliable and loyal friend," Vladislav pauses for a moment. "But of course, I always understood that my grandfather was a hero. He fought against fascism. If it weren't for millions of people like him, we simply wouldn't be here."

His grandson recalls with gratitude: his grandfather never imposed authority on him. He allowed him to discover important life truths on his own, gradually instilling respect for people, hard work, and patriotism. He didn't try to dissuade him when Vlad, having graduated from the institute with a degree in industrial and civil engineering, chose the programming profession.

Oleg Leonidovich listens attentively to his son. It's clear he's proud of him.

The Lemeshkovs treasure their father's military awards and Leonid Sergeyevich's wartime album as priceless relics. This wartime document has barely suffered from being moved. Wrapped in gray calico, it seems to have retained the warmth of a front-line soldier's hands and soul. On the first page is the inscription, "An Album of Songs by Leonid Lemeshkov." But inside, in addition to song lyrics popular at the time, are intimate reflections on life, excerpts from favorite books, proverbs, and sayings.
Father and son: Oleg and Vladislav Lemeshkov

"It was his outlet," says Oleg Leonidovich. "In between battles, after reporting to command, he wrote, drew, thought, and sketched vignettes. One page features the profile of a soldier in a helmet with a star, wearing a raincoat, and holding a machine gun. This drawing already hints of the future master of painting. The texts are written in a neat, beautiful handwriting.
'If it weren't for millions like him, we simply wouldn't exist.'" The officer's themes are somewhat unexpected. A young man at the front doesn't dream of love. His ideal is work—tireless, inspired, and creative. For Lemeshkov Sr., war was hard work, a colossal collective effort that would lead to Victory. He rereads Suvorov's "The Science of Victory" again and again, finding the right lines: the military virtues of a soldier are cheerfulness, of an officer bravery, of a general courage, guided by the principles of order and discipline, governed by vigilance and foresight. Or another entry in the same calligraphic hand: "Never say that if I were in his place, I would do something different, and do it yourself so that someone else doesn't say the same thing to you."

Lemeshkov's front-line diary contains no poetry. He only became interested in writing poetry later. But there is a sense of inner significance, from which poetry sooner or later emerges.

The poems of the front-line hero are imperfect, but full of profound meaning. He wrote them for his son and grandson, for the schoolchildren he taught work and military affairs, for the people of Rogachev, for all people for whom the concept of "peace" is significant and valuable:

Let us take care of our planet
And all living things that are on Earth,
So that the children will thank us
And visit Mars and the Moon for us.
Nine-year-old Milana Lemeshkova, the great-granddaughter of a hero of the Great Patriotic War

. “I asked him too few questions,” Oleg Leonidovich regrets. “I was afraid to touch a nerve, to cause pain .

” “And to me, as a child, it seemed that my grandfather was always an old man, and there was nothing interesting in his life,” Vlad laments. “It’s a shame that we will never know so much.”

A ringing silence hangs in the room, as if an invisible metronome is counting down a minute of silence.

“Thank you, father, for our Victory,” Oleg Leonidovich finally says. “For giving us life, care, and warmth.”

In a minute, we'll be leaving, and these hardworking, kindhearted people will return to their daily routine. One thing is certain: no matter how tedious the daily grind, they will return again and again to the memories of their grandfather and father, poring over the yellowed lines of his front-line diary, sifting through family photographs, and proudly admiring their ancestor's military awards. And they will certainly pass them on to their heirs as a family heirloom.

| Yulia ANDREEVA, "Belarusian Thought" magazine. Photo by Alexander GORBASH, from the BELTA archive and the Lemeshkov family album.

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