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Incredible escape from hell Brave escape from a concentration camp using an airplane How one person possibly saved thousands of lives and changed the course of the war The most impossible escape fighter pilot on a bomber Escape pilot Mikhail Devyataeva The article is devoted to the heroes who, in the most difficult times, Were not afraid of mortal danger And became forever heroes

Incredible escape from hell
Brave escape from a concentration camp using an airplane
How one person possibly saved thousands of lives and changed the course of the war


The most impossible escape fighter pilot on a bomber
Escape pilot Mikhail Devyataeva
 
  This was during the Second World War

  In the Baltic Sea on the line to the north of Berlin there is an island Usedom,
  on the western tip of which was the secret base of Peenemünde.
 This secret base was called the "Goering preserve".
  Here tested the newest aircraft
  And also housed a secret missile center.
  Photo from English reconnaissance aircraft
 
  With ten launch sites along the coast,
  At night, rockets launches into the sky "Vau-2".
  With this weapon the Nazis hoped to bomb London and even New York
 
 
 
 
 

 
  February 8, 1945 was a normal, tense, with nervous overloads day.
  Ober-lieutenant Graudenz, having had a quick dinner in the dining room, put in flight documents in his office.
  Suddenly the phone rang: Who did it take off like a crow? Graudenz heard the rude voice of the air defense chief.
  I did not take off ...
  Did not take off ... I myself saw through binoculars - soared somehow "Gustav Anton".
  Get yourself another pair of binoculars, more feasible, - flared Graudenz.
  - My "Gustav Anton" stands with the motors covered. I can only fly up on it.
  Maybe the planes fly without pilots? You look better if Gustav Anton is in place ...
  Ober-Lieutenant Graudenz jumped into the car and in two minutes was in the parking lot of his plane.
  Covers from the engines and a trolley with battery - this is all that the numb ace saw.
  "Raise the fighters! Raise everything you can! Catch up and shoot down!" ...
  In an hour the planes returned with nothing. With a shudder in his stomach,
  Graudenz went to the telephone to report to Berlin about what had happened.
 "The plane was hijacked, probably by the British," he thought.
  They, the British, were primarily interested in the base with which the "Fau" flew.
  This is their agent ... But in the caponier - an earthen shelter for the aircraft, near which the stolen Heinkel was located, a guard of a group of prisoners of war was found killed.
  The urgent construction of prisoners of war in the camp showed that there are not enough ten prisoners.
  All of them were Russian. " But first we will return, in the previous events

  But first we will return, in the previous events
  The son recalls: "Father's story, of course, is amazing:
  in the war he was a pilot of the famous division of Pokryshkin,
  in 1944, his plane was shot down, he was captured.
  Several times he tried to escape, he was sentenced to death, but in the camp, with the help of a prison barber,
  He managed to change the status of the person sentenced to death to the status of "convict".
  After an unsuccessful escape
  Pilot Devyataev was sent to the Sachsenhausen concentration camp
  He was condemned to death.
  All that was before it seemed now to be the threshold of hell.
  Hell was Sachsenhausen.
  The only thing that came here was death - from exhaustion,
  from beatings, from terrible crowding, a place for new victims was liberated by a crematorium
  In the barracks of sanitation, the barber,
  who was renting my hair, was quietly asked:
  -"Why did they send you here?"
  my answer
  "A tunnel from the camp."
  Escape attempt
  the barber say
  "They'll shoot you for this."
  A minute before this conversation, here in the ambulance barracks,
  before everyone's eyes,
  a guard shoveled a man with a shovel for the fact that he dared to smoke.
  The corpse lay near the wall.
  I do not know how I liked the old man's hairdresser,
  a prisoner like everyone else, but he suddenly asked:
  - Have you already got the tag? .. Come on! Come quickly! ..

  Little that understanding. I gave my number to him.
  Looking around, the old man bent over to the dead man and immediately put
  a new tag with number 104533 in my hand.
 "Remember, now you are a different person,
  Not "sentenced to death"
  Now you are a "penalty box".
  The new name is on a piece of pape.
  So the pilot Mikhail Devyataev
  became Grigory Stepanovich Nikitenko - a teacher from Darnitsa.
  "How I survived - I do not know.
  In the barracks there are nine hundred people - bunks in three floors.
  Each of the prisoners is in full control of the sadistic guards of the SS men, and the commandant.
  They can beat, mutilate, kill ... 200 grams of bread,
  a mug of bread and three potatoes - all the food for a day ...
  Work - exhaustingly heavy or stupefy senseless ...
  More than a thousand skeletons, covered with leather,
  were built at four in the morning on a windy Parade ground.
  By the end of 1944, the Nazis began to feel acute need and In the workforce.
  The prisoners of Sachsenhausen were examined by the doctors and, as can be seen,
  found that some of them, up to the limit of exhausted people,
  are suitable for work in some other places.
  He and other prisoners were soon
  sent to the island of Usedom, in the Baltic Sea
  Where in the Peenemünde missile center were developing
  new weapons of the Third Reich - cruise missiles "V-1" and ballistic missiles "Fau-2".

  "Do not think about escape.
  From here no one ran away and will never run away. "
  The commandant of the new camp said

  Prisoners immediately realized that they were close to the sea
  Gulls flew near by, a damp wind pierced to the bones
  It is forcing people to gather in close heap that would warm
  And it was clear: the camp is near an important military base.
  Once a week, in the evenings, into the sky with a roar, leaving a strip of light,
  Rockets flew up.
  Somewhere near was the airfield.

  Devyataev Mikhail recalls.
  As soon as I saw planes,
  I began to think about escaping,
  How to capture and steal an airplane?
  First I wanted to steal a fighter plane
  Escape in a fighter plane.
  But this idea had to be abandoned.
  Fighter planes were far away.
  In the second, he could not leave his comrades.
  He needed a big plane.
  What would all the comrades fit in the airplane
  We considered Junkers 88 or Heinkel 111
  Recalls the pilot Devyataev
  When the prisoners Worked at the airport,
  they noticed all the details of the airfield:
  when the planes are refueling, when the teams go to dinner,
  which machine is more convenient for the capture.
  Have stopped attention on two-engine "Heinkel-111".
 
  The most unusual was the airfield team of convicts.
  Work on the airfield is the most difficult: to fill the funnels from the rupture of bombs,
  delete up unexploded bombs
  Make mortar from cement and other
  But it was to this team that the "teacher from Darnitsa"
  sought all the time. The roar of planes, their appearance,
  their closeness with enormous force stirred up the thought of escape. "
  Everyone who worked here understood:
  They will all be killed
  And so they tried to escape.
  One desperate Yugoslav was hiding on an island lake.
  But he was Caught.
  In the edification of all,
  He was put in front of the convicts
  And Sheepdogs attacked him
  That dogs are not bitten quickly
  - His neck was wrapped in tarpaulin.
  I saw a lot of things, but I do not remember the more terrible picture. "
  The following months before the escape,
  Devyatayev tried to imperceptibly study the instrument panels of aircraft.
  Burying the funnels and dismantling the piles of metal,
  Michael and his friends filmed tablets with devices brought into the barracks and studied them carefully.
  So the knowledge about the devices of the plane was collected.
  To prepare for the escape used and drawings of prisoners.
  They studied every little thing that could affect the success of the escape.
  The work of prisoners of war was observed by a guard with a rifle, an elderly German.
  During the aerodrome works the "teacher from Darnitsa"
  did not miss the opportunity to look at the airplane dump.
  Mikhail secretly from the guard climbed into the cockpit of the Heinkel bomber,
  defeated by the British at the airfield. And there he glared at the dashboards.
  That's when the knowledge of the German language came in handy.
  "Heinkel-111".
 
  The crew of the heavy twin-engine bomber,
  with whom Mikhail Devyatayev met only in the air before, consisted of six people.
  The fugitives had to be raised by the forces of one emaciated prisoner.
  Once we cleared the snow from the caponier,
  there was the same as "our", "Heinkel".
  From the shaft I saw in the cockpit of the pilot.
  And he noticed my curiosity. With a grin on his face - look,
  they say, a Russian , how easily real people cope with this car
 - the pilot demonstratively began to show the launch: drove up, connected the battery cart,
  the pilot showed a finger and released it directly in front of him,
  then the pilot for me specially Raised his leg to the level of his shoulders and lowered -
  earned one motor. Next - the second.
  The pilot in the cab laughed.
  Watching the German pilot preparing the plane for take-off,
  Mikhail memorized the order of actions.
  After refueling the bomber with gasoline, the technicians brought up electric batteries
  on the trolley and connected them to the engines of the aircraft.
  The pilot turned on the ignition.
  There was a rumble of engines, the propellers of the two motors began to spin.
  Mechanics knocked out brake pads from under the wheels.
  A huge plane with crosses on its wings moved along the runway.
  Everything is faster, faster. Where the runway ended over the precipice,
  the airplane soared above the water surface of the sea.
  But Michael understood how difficult it was for a fighter pilot
  to practice without flying a practice, to fly a bomber.
  Yes, not yet in the Russian , but in German.
  The risk is huge.
  Price - the life of all participants in the escape,.
  The degree of risk was understood by all: alarm can raise the alarm;
  Somebody might unexpectedly appear at the plane;
  plane will be without fuel;
  We can not start the engines;
  Security blocks the take-off strip;
  Can send after the fighters;
  There may be unforeseen complications.
  I myself thought: the odds are one out of a hundred.
  But we could not retreat any more.
  The atmosphere in the camp was very disturbing.
  In the concentration camp, criminals informally rule,
  these scoundrels served for the Nazis.
  To the "ten days of life" was sentenced the compatriot Devyataeva Fedor Fatykh.
  Mikhail Petrovich bitterly recalled: "When I returned from work one day,
  I found him dying.
  Fedor said: "Misha, take the effort,
  I believe: you will fly away." At night he died.
  A few days later, the decree "ten days of life" was received by Devyatayev himself.
  Devyatayev Mikhail fight with a gangster and a cynic named Kostya sailor.
  The commandant of the camp in my actions saw a "political act", and everyone heard: "ten days of life!"
  The same evening, the prisoner was brutally beaten by the guards.
  Sadists helped Kostya with fellow criminals.
  But the Friends of Devyatayev did everything they could: they hid it in the laundry,
  at the time of construction they became so that not all the blows reached the condemned man,
  they filled in the rations of bread that had been taken away ...
  But he would not have stretched ten days, of course.
  At that moment the conspirators decided: "Escape either now or never".
  On the eighth of the ten released days.
  Pilot Devyatayev Mikhail was destined to demonstrate his skills. "
  It was decided during the escape
  kill guard SS, And to tie the old man of the watchman.
  The day of February 8, 1945 began on the island, as usual.
 "At night rockets flew up.
  I could not fall asleep from the roar and from extreme excitement.
  We again filled the funnels
  from bomb explosions.
  The security guard was an SS man.
  Usually he demanded that at lunch in the caponier,
  where there was a lull, a bonfire was bred for him.
  At 12 o'clock German technicians and pilots went to the dining room.
  Here already burns a bonfire in the caponier, and the guard SS, placing a rifle between his knees,
  warms his hands over the fire. Two hundred steps to our Heinkel.
  I push Volodya: "You can not wait!"
  And he suddenly hesitated: "Maybe tomorrow?" I showed my fist and tightly clenched teeth. "
  Decisive was Ivan Krivonogov.
  Striking a crowbar from behind - and the SS man falls directly into the fire.
  I look at the guys. Only four of us know what's wrong.
  The six others have indescribable horror on their faces: the murder the SS man is a gallows.
  In a nutshell, I explain what's the matter,
  and I see that the mortal fright changes the resolve to act.
  From this moment the return path of ten people was no longer - death or freedom
  Arrows on the watch, taken from the SS man from his pocket,
  showed 12 hours and 15 minutes. Act! Every second is precious.
  The tallest Peter Kutergin wears a security guard coat,
  a cap with a visor.
  With a rifle, he will lead the "prisoners" in the direction of the aircraft.
  "But, without wasting time, I and Volodya Sokolov were already at Heinkel.
  At the tail door, by hitting a pre-hidden rod I break through a hole.
  I thrust my hand inside, I open the lock.
  The interior of the Heinkel to me, accustomed to the close cabin of the fighter,
  seemed like a hangar. Having made a sign to the guys: "on the plane!",
  I hasten to get into the pilot's seat.
  The parachute nest is empty, and I sit in it like a skinny kitten.
  On faces located behind - a feverish pressure: more likely! ».
  Vladimir Sokolov and Ivan Krivonogov uncover the motors,
  remove clamps The key of the ignition is in place.
  I found a pump, several times I shook the fuel,
  then I set the ignition and, remembering how the German officer,
  whom I observed recently, pressed, pressed the starter button.
  No movement. The motor is silent.
  How did I forget that behind me there is a small switch and that it is with his help
  that you need to start a battery current to the motors and devices?
  I was glad that I remembered this, and turning around, confidently turned it on.
  Again pressed the starter. Not a single arrow moved. There was no current.
  I rushed to bronespinke, .
  It was empty there. The terminals hung,
  there were no batteries. The thought of collapse, of failure, paralyzed me.
  My legs refused to serve me. I fell.
  Memory still recorded the moment of a blow to the head about something solid.
  Maybe the cold iron on which I was lying may have voices, and perhaps the non-restraining anxiety of the soul,
  together with all, have awakened me.
  I lay for a minute, five or ten, I do not know.
  But I immediately remembered what had happened.
  I rose in my arms, again saw the emptiness behind the back of the seat.
  Crawled to the hatch. All my companions stood at the bottom.
  They looked at me.
  Apparently, they just called me,
  Because when I showed up, in their eyes, full of deadly horror, a joyous, striking surprise flashed.
  "He's doing something there ..."
  They all started talking at once: "Why do not you start!" - Does not it work for you ?!
  - What to do? I leaned out of the hatch,
  approached my comrades: "There are no batteries." Someone gasped, as though shot to death by a bullet.
  - You need to look for a cart with batteries! Search! Remember, we saw her.
  Confusion, uncertainty passed. I jumped to my feet completely different than I was a minute ago,
  full of energy and strength. I look - they roll the cart,
  and on it there is a rechargeable battery.
  Already someone is dragging the ladder, grinding the wheels.
  And give me the cable. We are doing everything as accurately as the German who showed us his perfect technique.
  I gently press the starter button.
  The motor rang zh-ju-ju! I calmly turn on the "paw" ignition,
  the motor several times snorted and buzzed.
  I increase the gas - I roared.
 The circle of the screw has become transparent.
  Friends with delight give joyful light kicks in the shoulders. I start the second motor.
  I ordered everyone to hide in the fuselage.
  I sit more heavily on the seat. Still I try engines.
  They respond with a familiar voice of power, agreement and readiness to rush into the air.
  I inspected the plane from the left to the right wing.
  So they taught me in school, I smoothly give the levers of gas,
  the car quietly moved forward.
 The plane held the brakes and stopped. Everything is fine.
  Now - full gas. Forward! "Heinkel" rolled along the concrete path.
  Someone else's plane, another's sky, another's land - do not betray us, people, suffering hunger and pain,
  striving to realize the right to be saved from death.
  Serve us, and we will remember you again and again in good time with a kind word.
  We have the whole life ahead of us, today we are born again.
  I pray the motors, every cable and cog in our plane,
  in the end - just a particle of the planet,
  along which we need to run a little to break away from it and soar into the sky.
  The plane ran a few tens of meters, and was among the airfield.
  From here it is visible in all directions, but it is visible also us.
  The pilots, passing by cars past, peep out of their cabins,
  notice something unusual, but probably do not have time to properly see me.
  When I meet with planes, I speed up the car to quickly slip by.
  Above the airfield there is a group of "Junkers"
  - they came from the front and one by one will land on that concretered
  strip along which my aircraft must run.
  A woman in a dark jumpsuit stands at the start and, picking up the flag,
  accepts the Junkers. She does not pay attention to me yet,
  she has no time. And I will not approach her: near her phone
  - a direct connection with the duty officer on the airfield. To buy time,
  I drive my aircraft in the direction of the hangars and return to the start, when the last "Junkers" sat down.
  Without waiting for permission to take off, cut off the angle of turn,
  jump out onto the runway and - motors at full capacity! Screws raked air.
  The earth ran, Thought, feelings, we rushed to the sky.
  My attention is on motors: they have to work synchronously,
  on two I never took off, and my gaze - on a small hillock at the end of the airfield.
  Reference point! The wings have already gained enough strength.
  It's time to tear the plane off the ground.
  The wings have already gained enough strength.
  It's time to tear the plane off the ground.
  To do this, you must put the machine in such a position that it rests not on three points,
  but on two. I move the control knob to the front. "Tail" does not rise.
  I press the handle harder, I lean on it with the whole body.
  "Heinkel" continues racing madly over the concrete on three wheels without taking off.
  Some unknown forces give the wheel back. They are stronger than my hands.
  Really low speed? No, it is quite sufficient. I still press the steering wheel,
  the plane slopes to the left, then to the right wing, like a shot bird.
  I lower the steering wheel. So I can not take off ... The plane rushes to the sea. What did I overlook?
  I still guessed the reasons.
  I had a few seconds to correct the mistake and continue the take-off.
  I controlled myself. And the plane? What with plane? What?! What?!
  Probably, the clamps from the tail unit are not removed,
  and it does not react to my movements. It is necessary to stop taking off ...
  The vast expanse of the sea comes to me.
  Everything is forgotten: comrades, escape, encirclement.
  Only I and the machine remained. We are alone. The plane carries me to the sea.
  I gave him a run, he obediently obeyed me, but does not want to break away from the ground, but I can not ..
  The limit of normal braking and reducing the stroke is already passed.
  I passed him and entered the streak of death. Fear gripped me.
  But I still held the steering wheel in my hands, my feet stood on the levers of the brakes.
  I will be saved until the last second. Sharply pressed the brakes.
  The "tail" of the plane rose. If I had not let the brakes go,
  Heinkel would have turned over itself, would have hooded,
  and we would all have remained under its wreckage or burned with it.
  I released the brakes ,. Once again, more! Ditch speed! It is already much smaller,
  but it is not possible to unfold yet. The beton finished,
  we roll on the snow, sand, grass. You can already see the stones about which the waves break.
  There remains an instant of life. No thought, no hope, no way out.
  But there is no confusion that paralyzes the brain. I am at the mercy of intuition, the instinct of self-preservation.
  I squinted, the sea was too close to look forward. The last learned movements:
  I do my best to brake the left wheel and increase the speed of the right engine.
  The plane at the last meters of the level platform, before the abyss, unfolds with an unheard-of,
  vunprecedented yuz ... It so heels that one wing and wheel lift into the air,
  and the other plows the ground. A deafening blow to the ground. In the cockpit it suddenly became dark,
  it was completely dark. What is it? Smoke? Is the plane on fire?
  No, it is covered with dust and snow.
  Broke the chassis, and the plane crawled on the ground?
  No, we stand on wheels, the propellers spin, the motors work.
  The cloud of dust lifted by our turn swims, in the cabin it became lightened.
  Yes, our "Heinkel" is over the very edge, but nowhere is it damaged
  and before us again the field of the airfield. We still can fight for life.
  The comrades have surrounded, they are waiting for what I will do next.
  Volodya Sokolov looks into my eyes, seeks explanations, answers everything that happened, what will happen.
  I shout him straight in the face: "Come down and see if there are any clamps left!"
  Volodka ducked into the hatch.
  At our disposal are seconds of time.
  Comrades, alarmed, look full of anxiety and impatience with their eyes, waiting for my actions.
  The airfield was exactly like ten minutes ago, spread out before us.
  But now he was already different. After all, the starter remembered
  how we went around her and without permission for departure, pirated the way forward.
  A woman in black probably already informed the duty officer about this.
  A cloud of dust passed through the whole field, and probably everyone noticed it.
  Volodya climbs into the plane, shouts, gesticulating: no clamps!
  I understand his report, I try to change the steering wheel
  The elevator for an airplane,
  I am convinced that this is so, and thoughts tear the brain: what next? What about the plane?
  And thoughts tear the brain: what next? What about the plane?
  To our "Heinkel", which stands over the very precipice, some people are fleeing.
  They are climbing up where the anti-aircraft gun battery is located.
  I have often seen gun barrels, densely sticking around the airfield.
  The fire positions of anti-aircraft gunners were to me, I never paid any attention to them,
  and when discussing the plan for our escape, we never took them into account.
  Our flight seemed to us lightning fast, and anti-aircraft guns are not a hindrance.
  And now I see how the anti-aircraft gunners are rushing to our plane from here, and from there.
  They, of course, watched as the plane barely escaped the catastrophe, as it turned around in the cloud of dust,
  heard the rumbling. They found us and just wonder what happened? No, they do not know anything yet.
  This is how I appreciated the situation when I saw soldiers steadily approaching our Heinkel,
  as they goggled at me. They can not yet understand who is sitting in the cabin.
  Only see that the pilot is somehow oddly outfitted.
  Everyone noticed that something happened at the airport,
  but no one could have imagined that the participants and creators of this event were prisoners.
  And we did not understand what happened to the plane. I did not understand the behavior of the machine, my comrades me ...
  When I turned to my comrades, I had a decision,
  there was something to say to them,
  and I began to shout at them out loud what I had thought up.
  But none of them heard anything: the engines were buzzing.
  Only by the look on their face, by their eyes,
  they could guess that I'm not going to give up, that now I'll lead the plane forward,
  that I did not stop the flight, but I will continue it.
  And the Nazis are already very close.
  I clearly see their unbuttoned overcoats, red sweating faces,
  their full-blown eyes. I shout again and show my comrades that they should lean back,
  disappear in the depth of the fuselage and, crouching,
  gathering all their strength, letting go of the brakes.
  The plane rolls directly to the soldiers. They did not expect Heinkel to move on them.
  Yes, they are pressed by a pilot-prisoner! They rushed in all directions.
  Those that were further away and who did not threaten anything took out pistols from their holsters.
  Others fled to their antiaircraft guns. But time was won, only time, not victory.
  The plane again rushed to the end of the airfield, from which we began to take off.
  I give a little speed. I need to reach the launch site as soon as possible.
  It is absolutely impossible to fly from here: on the other side of the airfield there were radio masts, trees, buildings.
  And again - just me and the plane. Unsolved, beyond my control, but in my hands.
  I did not know why he did not leave the ground,
  but I believed in him. The power that I could not explain and which counteracted me will now be subdued.
  The aircraft should be leveled at the take-off and climb to the wings.
  I tried to achieve this for myself, for my comrades, for saving us from death.
  I did not see anything that was done on the sides - there only flashed planes in the parking lots
  and those that rolled up to the start. I have to take off until the anti-aircraft guns are ready to fire.
  While the soldiers did not have time to say what they saw. Until an order is given to raise the fighters ...
  It's not too late ... We're back on the betonke. We acted like air pirates,
  they made their own rules. I handed the control stick to the front,
  the plane with the roaring engines intensively gaining speed. The former sense of confidence returned to me:
  the plane rushes along a firm, level field.
  In the distance the stormy sea is already looming ...
  It's time to break away from the earth. I put the pen away from me.
  Now the speed is greater than it was then. But I feel that the handle again presses me to the back of the seat.
  Already presses on my chest. And the plane rolls in the same position as before.
  Some kind of pain, some pain in the car. They throw it from wing to wing.
  What is this? What? Thought: if I do not tear off the plane from the ground this time,
  I will direct it to the right. There are planes. And another thought:
  why do not I have enough strength to lift the plane? What is the reason? In the darkness,
  light broke out - only with this I can compare the conjecture that had dawned upon me,
  so long wandering in my flushed head.
  Similar phenomena happen with the airplane when the elevator trim tabs are set to "land",
  not "take off". But where are the hand wheels with which the trimmers are transferred?
  Where are they on this board filled with instruments? I would have managed to eliminate this abnormality very easily,
  but here it is a sea depth. Already there are huge stones, about which waves break.
  I have not enough strength to squeeze the wheel ...
  and I scream: Help me! I scream so that my comrades hear my voice in the harsh roar of motors.
  I pointed them to the handle beside my chest. Thin, thin hands lay on the wheel next to mine,
  and he leaned forward. The plane immediately lined up.
  His "tail" rose. "The nose" fell lower. The plane was already rolling on two chassis wheels.
  Here is the position after which the winged car itself breaks away from the ground.
  But I am afraid that my friends will suddenly release the steering wheel,
  and I implore, order, I pray: - Click! Click! Hold tight! .
  But the plane is already in the air. Under his wings the guns of antiaircraft guns, wet, open stones,
  floated close by. Goodbye forever, hellish land of bondage! Farewell,
  Usedom Camp! Freedom has revealed its horizons to us.
  our crew at that moment merged into a single creature: hands lay on the steering wheel,
  on each other's shoulders. Only here, on the route of freedom,
  we felt until the end, realized what we had done. ... Looked at the rate of gasoline.
  Fuel is not less than three tons. Almost full tanks! I informed my comrades about this. They started a rally. - We fly to Moscow! "Only to Moscow!"
  On photo Mikhail Devyataev at the helm of Heinkel 50 years after his escape
 
  Junior Lieutenant Devyataev at the beginning of the war
 
  Control trimmer was found when the aircraft, diving into the clouds, began to gain altitude.
  And immediately the car became obedient and easy.
  "At that moment I felt: we were saved and I thought: what is happening now on the base!
  I looked at my watch. It was 12 hours 36 minutes - everything fit in twenty-one minutes. "
  We flew to the north over the sea,
  Understood: above the land will be attacked by fighters plane.
  Then we flew over the sea to the southeast.
  Below, we saw a caravan of ships.
  And the planes guarding this convoy
  One Messerschmitt turned away and made a noose next to Heinkel.
  "I saw the puzzled look of the pilot: we flew with the chassis released."
  The height was about two thousand meters.
  From the cold and the huge exhilaration experienced, the pilot and his passengers pounded their teeth.
  But the joy overflowed my heart. "I shouted:" Guys, there are a lot of fuel in the tanks - even to Moscow!
  "Everyone wanted to fly straight to Moscow. But I understood: such a flight is impossible - we will become the prey of our fighters and antiaircraft guns. "
  When the earth appeared, the fugitives realized: they would soon see the front line.
  We were approaching the front line,
  At the bottom there were endless columns of cars and tanks and transport carriers.
  But now at the sight of the flying Heinkel people from the road run and lie down.
  "Our troops!" This joy was suddenly reinforced by a dense anti-aircraft fire.
  Two projectile hit to our "Heinkel".
  I hear a scream: "Wounded!"
  And I see smoke coming from the right engine.
  I throw the plane sharply into the side slip. The smoke disappears.
  But we must sit down.
  Downstairs raskisshaya in snow spots land:
  Road, forest edge, and behind it - an acceptable level field.
  I'm falling sharply. The unassembled chassis in the ground is bogged down.
  It is necessary to cut them at the moment of landing
  Slipping to the side ... "
  The gunners of the 61st Army from the road leading to the front line
  saw the Heinkel sitting on the field, having broken the wheels.
  Cautiously, for fear of fire, the soldiers rushed to our plane.
  "And we in the Heinkel were not quite sure,
  That we were on our territory.
  The plexiglass nose of the plane was damaged. The snow was filled with mud in the cabin.
 I got out somehow ... Silence. The screws are bent, steam rises from the motors. "Heinkel",
  plowed through the field deep furrow, seemed now awkward thick whale, lying on his stomach.
  It was hard to believe that two hours ago the plane was on the secret Nazi base.
  The first thing that the arrivals did was try to hide in the forest.
  Taking the rifle of the killed guard and the machine gun from the Heinkel,
  supporting the wounded, they ran a hundred steps across the field,
  but turned back - there was no strength.
  Having prepared the weapon in the plane, we decided to wait, that will be.
  Fritz! Hende Hoh! Give up,
  Otherwise we'll be firing a cannon! - Cries were heard from the edge of the forest.
  For those sitting on the plane, these were very expensive words.
  - We are not Fritz! We are yours, brothers! we! From captivity. We are!
  People with machine guns, in sheepskin coats, ran up to the plane, were stunned.
  Ten skeletons in striped clothes, shod in wooden shoes, splashed with blood and mud,
  cried, repeating only one word: "Brothers, brothers ..."
  In the position of the artillery battalion they were carried in their arms,
  like children, each weighing less than forty kilograms.
  Devyatayev and his comrades were placed in a filtration camp.
  Fortunately, they were recognized as trustworthy and were able to return to the service.
  In September 1945, S. P. Korolev, who was appointed to direct the Soviet program for mastering German missile technology,
  found S. Devyatayev, and took him to Peenemünde.
  Here Devyataev showed Soviet specialists the places where missile sites were made and where they started.
  It was for the help in creating the first Soviet R-1 rocket - a copy of the FAU-2 - that Korolev in 1957
  was able to introduce Devyataev to the title of Hero.
  Seven out of ten former prisoners of war were sent to the front at the end of March 1945,
  and three officers - Devyataev, Krivonogov and Emets - were reinstated in officer ranks.
  But the war had already ended by that time
  In November 1945, Devyataev was dismissed to the reserve.
  In 1946, having a diploma of the ship's captain, he got a job at the station in the Kazan river port.
  In 1949 he became captain of the boat. Only in 1957,
 
  thanks to the intervention of the legendary spacecraft designer Sergei Korolev,
  after telling about their exploits in the newspapers,
  Mikhail Devyatayev was awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union on August 15, 1957.
  Recalls Devyataev
  We have undergone quite a brutal check.
  His feat did not immediately find the proper recognition at home.
  The state security agencies did not immediately believe that prisoners of concentration camps
  could have hijacked the plane.
  The fugitives were subjected to a hard check,
  The situation changed, only at the end of the 50s ...
  By the decree of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR of August 15, 1957,
  Devyatayev was awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union with the Order of Lenin and the Gold Star medal.
  2002 The meeting of MI Devyataev and the German ace G. Hobom, in island Usedom,
 
  Gunter Hobom was supposed to overtake and knock down Devyataev.
  But this did not happen
  From this center in Peenemunde, London was bombed daily - until the father passed all the classified information.
  The British then many times thanked and invited him to themselves to reward,
  but unfortunately from the Soviet Union father was not allowed to leave.
  Americans and Englishmen bombed a false airfield,
  where there were mock-ups of airplanes and other objects
  The real airfield was 200 meters from the sea
  And was carefully disguised.
  It was closed by trees on special mobile carriages.
  That's why the airfield could not be found.
  When I escaped from captivity and told this to lieutenant general of the 61st Army Belov,
  he gasped and clutched his head
  That's why the airfield could not be found.
  But there were about 3,5 thousand military men and 13 installations of "V-1" and "V-2" on it.
  The main thing in this story is not only the very fact that,
  from a specially protected secret The Nazi base,
  exhausted prisoners of war from a concentration camp hijacked
  a military aircraft and reached "their own" in order to save themselves
  and report everything they could see from the enemy.
  The main thing was the fact that the stolen He-111 was ...
  the FAU- missile control console - the world's first long-range ballistic missile developed in Germany.
  He-111 controlled the missile by radio signals and guided the missile at the target
 The article is devoted to the heroes who, in the most difficult times,
  Were not afraid of mortal danger
  And became forever heroes

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