1942 T. I. Obukhova, Soviet 120th Medical Battalion

All our warmth and kindness was given to the wounded...
T. I. Obukhova
Former nurse, 120th Medical Battalion, 111th Rifle Division

On a March morning in 1942, twenty of us Komsomol members – doctors and nurses of the 120th Medical Battalion, received orders to make our way the through marshy swamps and bogs west of the Volkhov to the encircled positions of our division, where hundreds of wounded had accumulated.

Loaded to capacity with medicine and field dressings, wrapped in warm clothes with gas masks at our sides, we set off on our way. The column included the komsomol organizer Anya Petushkova, nurses Shura Koroleva, Tosya Grigorieva, Vera Balabina, Katya Vasilieva, Katya Korneyeva and myself (at that time Tanya Vysotskaya), doctors Nikolai Afonin, Marukanyan, Vartanyan, and two orderlies.

Near Myasniy Bor, we entered a forest and stumbled upon a frightful scene: the bodies of dead civilians – women, children and the elderly, apparently strafed from the air by the German vultures. My heart sank with anguish. But Anya Petushkova reassured us, saying "Do not weep, girls! Our boys will avenge these people. But we must move forward as quick as possible, the wounded are waiting for us".

Soon after, we approached a large swamp, periodically shelled by the Germans. Our path lay through this marshy bog. We divided up into groups of five and waded into the cold water. The first two groups managed to proceed unnoticed, but when the third group reached the middle of the swamp, where the water stood waist-deep, Katya Korneyeva caught herself on a snag, and crying out, fell. The enemy immediately opened up with automatic weapons. Katya Vasilieva was wounded, though not seriously.

Having covered several kilometers, exhausted and covered with mud and slime, we sat down for a rest. The sun peeped out at us and we wrung out our wet clothes. Having dried ourselves out a little, we continued and reached our appointed destination by the evening.

Tents had been set up for our arrival along with a log-built enclosure with two-story plank beds. The wounded lay around wherever possible. The night drew cold and we began gathering moss to insulate the tents and little huts.

Our work began. Operations went on day and night as did bandaging and dressing the wounded. Blood and groans were a continual presence. It is frightening to recall that horror in which we found ourselves. Constantly looking upon bloodied and helpless men, squeezing their fingers as they grew cold, looking into their fading eyes and trying to reassure them: “Hang on, just a little longer. You will get better!” And to hear in response: “No, nurse, I'm not long for this world.... Here, take this address... my son is there...”.

A man dies and you would weep for a few moments in the corner and then return to the wounded who arrived in a never-ending stream - carried, dragged and delivered. Again, you would force yourself to smile, roll cigarettes for them with trembling hands, soothe and reassure them, while sensing their anguish...

The food situation was very poor. Everything was supplied from the air, by aircraft. Hard biscuits and groats were dropped in meager amounts. If we were fortunate to find a fallen horse, we would make horse-meat soup. The main task, however, was to feed the wounded – by ourselves, if necessary. Indeed, we would be on duty for days on end, falling asleep on our feet, while still donating blood for the wounded. But even starving and staggering from exhaustion, we faithfully carried out our duties, offering the wounded all the warmth and tenderness which we were capable.

The encirclement was hard on everyone, nevertheless, the soldiers managed to build a narrow-gauge railway while under fire, which we used for evacuating the wounded. The troops would push the small wagons and trolleys by hand, while we sat with the wounded and spoke to them, keeping their mind off the pain and distracting them from the gunfire.

Outside the pocket, wondrous news awaited us: our cherished 111th Division had been promoted to the rank of a guards formation. It became the 24th Guards Rifle Division, while our 120th Medical Battalion became the 20th Guards Medical Battalion. I vividly recall the meeting of July 2nd, 1942, in which our guards' banner was solemnly entrusted to our new divisional commander, Colonel P. K. Koshevoi.

Following Myasniy Bor, we found ourselves in the swamps and marshes near Sinyavino. Again there were wounded and again an encirclement, leading to a desperate escape with heavy losses. And again, despite of the difficulties, the medics of our battalion did their utmost to save the wounded.

Once, while under German shelling near Sinyavino, a tent caught fire which had been used for sheltering the wounded who had been prepared for evacuation. Seeing the flames, the commander of the evacuation platoon, Anya Petushkova, cried out: “Quick – remove the wounded!” She began extinguishing the flames herself, with her bare hands, tearing away at the burning canvas. Anya suffered severe burns, but she recovered. She died in 1944, during the liberation of Odessa, and she remains in the memory of all who knew her. She was a wonderful, selfless person