Today, I am talking about how many enemies the 307th Rifle Division, 109th Rifle Regiment of the 1st Ukrainian Front, Elchiboy Abdusalomov, the senior sergeant of the 109th Rifle Regiment, bitten the enemy, what feats he achieved, what kind of combat and I don't want to list those who were deemed worthy of state awards one by one.
In Nazarkar

Today, I am talking about how many enemies the 307th Rifle Division, 109th Rifle Regiment of the 1st Ukrainian Front, Elchiboy Abdusalomov, the senior sergeant of the 109th Rifle Regiment, bitten the enemy, what feats he achieved, what kind of combat and I don't want to list those who were deemed worthy of state awards one by one.

A loyal and ex-combatant is beyond praise.

Recognition of the homeland and the people is sacred!

Abdusalomov, who does not tolerate politeness, would "bend his back" due to the weight of the orders and medals worn on his costume, when he wore his "poshshoi dress" on holidays.

Grandchildren often asked: "Grandma, where and when did you receive this order?" What about this one?

Like all ex-combatants, he did not hesitate to talk about what he had seen in the war. Neither at home nor when invited to formal or informal meetings. A wound on the body is easy to heal, and a wound on the heart never scabs over the face. Instead of asking a warrior about war, he gave a hoe in his hand and seven tanas of earth under his feet. His two cold feet trembled, and despite the fact that the pieces of steel stuck in his body from the bomb and projectile, which shine like silver when exposed to X-rays, are stinging like snakes, he playfully hoe the ground in one pass.

"Bless you! - he says later, wiping the sweat from his wrinkled forehead. - Goodbye, my dear! I enjoyed it!"

Many children, grandchildren, and fellow villagers of Elchiboy Abdusalomov saw such happy moments.

Nevertheless, he told some stories while sipping hot tea in a steamer. While saying it, he broke into a sweat every time:

"Yusuf was a good man. Kelbati, thank you, Yolchi used to take it to my brother. Joseph himself. Joseph Levin. His parents were priests. I used to say "Yusuf aka". Although he was only a teenager, he was as thin as a rope, and he wore a couple of shirts more than I did. God gave from knowledge, blessed from pure heart. But shy like girls. He would get lost in his speech. Both of us were immersed in each other and held each other like brothers. Alas, the man was good, poor man! How many good young men have passed away!.. You can't count them all. How many good things he did when he was alive, poor people!

Battles started for the liberation of the Prussian capital Königsberg (now Kaliningrad) and lasted exactly 103 days. Hitler, who called the world "Sherman", felt that his day was coming to an end and went in search of a rabbit's skin. The Nazis came out of the dark forest, where they were hiding, and attacked the hill. In the middle - Saykhanity.

This time there was a roaring sound. This was not an ordinary weapon, but a trusted stronghold of the Wehrmacht. Hitler believed that if he used his armored tanks, he would have the upper hand in any battle. It does not take bullets or shells.

Ambassador Abdusalomov was noticed by his comrades-in-arms with one quality: he does not lose his temper in any situation, when any danger threatens. Many saw it as generosity, some saw it as coldness, and others saw it as a sharp mind.

From the school teacher with white hair to the eighteen-year-old boy, when danger starts in the fighting unit of eleven people, everyone looks at the mouth of this delicate Uzbek. In Nazarkar.

When the superiors wanted to appoint Iosif as the commander of the division, the Jewish young man immediately refused: "I can't! Let him be an ambassador. I am looking at the documents.''

... Two "Tigers" ("Arslons") kept coming with their thick snow like sand and terrorizing them like drunken camels. This weapon was delivered not to the general army, but to the best and most trusted military units of the Wehrmacht, to the places where the most important battles were going on.

"Grenade!" whispered the captain.

The instruction "Prepare the grenade!" passed from mouth to mouth on the fortification.

Behind the tanks appeared a gala footman - masked - in a white coat. It's hard to move forward.

"Twenty, naughty! - someone said. "Ten behind each tank!"

The two tanks, which were approaching without firing either their machine guns or cannons, suddenly turned in both directions.

"Brother Yusuf, you - go to the right!" - the Ambassador ordered now. - I - to the left! The rest are in the middle!"

The ambassador took aim at the Nazi foot soldiers who approached him. Two enemies fall. The tank on the left turned sharply in the middle of the trench, in the direction of the fire.

"I still remember how my hands sweated holding the grenades tied in pairs," Grandpa Amchi told later. - You are angry 

and your soul will disappear from your eyes. The enemy drove his tank right on top of me."

At this time, the tank digs a trench, spins over the fighter and knocks him into the mud. Survival is doubtful. Ambassador Abdusalomov threw himself to the right at the last second. The two rolled over and moved away. Two giant tanks cannot keep up with each other in a thirty-meter trench.

This was the hope of the division commander.

The steel chain of the machine of death, which was spinning in place, splashing mud around him, seemed to touch his boot. The double grenade hit the weakest point of the tank - the bottom.

"When I looked, brother Yusuf was standing above me," Grandpa Amchi remembered. "Terror has hardened in his eyes." Shivering, poor thing...

Only two of us were left alive... We supported each other and stood up. Two overturned tanks were lying in two places. I went down to look for my machine gun. Brother Yusuf shouted: "Put that, your order!". I didn't put it. I found it in the mud and took it on my shoulder. How can I throw away my weapon, which has been used in my daily life for three years!..”

The enemy failed to reach its goal. The two surviving fighters were awarded the Order of the Red Banner.

By spring, Königsberg was liberated from the Nazis. On April 9, 1945, about one hundred thousand German military garrisons surrendered. Hitler sentenced General Otto von Liasch, who entrusted the defense of the city, to be shot in absentia "for this treachery".

Berlin was only a short walk away, and now it was the Führer's turn to surrender.

Warriors want to take a break during short lulls. Trying to forget the war, he begins to think about his future life. Makes plans. He misses his family and his motherland.

Enchiboy and Yusufboy were indulging in such sweet dreams, the pale day was turning from noon and the frost was coming.

"I'm going to Odessa and I'm going to study at a pedagogic school," said Iosif, who was crouching on the stony side of the street. - I teach children at school. Until the end of my life, I will not hold a weapon or a knife. I can't catch it, hello! I will marry. We will have a child... What about you, what will you do, Ambassador?"

The younger brother, who was sitting on the concrete barrier in front of him with only a deposit on his travel bag, had heard such a question from his dreamy brother many times before. Each time he gives a different answer: I will study productivity, I will become a doctor, I will be a farmer...

Ambassador Abdusalomov also wanted to learn. But there is one obstacle - the burden of children. If he goes to the city to study, his old parents will be alone again. Isn't it enough that all these years have passed and he has forced them to join his path?

Something rumbles...

After a week, the brother regained consciousness in a military hospital. Chippa has a worn out ear and cannot hear. There is no healthy part of his body. Discarded. Another concussion.

He asks his brother.

"Joseph is dead," the nurse writes on a piece of paper. "Under the shell..."

Optimistic

When the ambassador returned safely from the massacre in the forty-fifth year, he was so happy to see that his household had reached the sky, and he took out bread from his travel bag. The country was seized by famine.

Ambassador Abdusalomov's check was again heavily burdened. He was appointed deputy chairman of the collective farm. A twenty-four-year-old boy, who had seen nothing but a school notebook, a hoe, and a weapon, led the way.

It has been many years since the village people have not seen flour for bread, sheep and lamb for bread, and oil for the pot. Those who eat the thorny mixture of yellow sugar and raw seeds and swell up and die are no less than those who were shot at the front. Day-by-day funeral in Mojaz village. The yard is overflowing. From Ulov, put down the equipment, there are no horses or carts left.

If you look for a hoe-carrying corran, you will find no one except a grumpy woman, an old woman, and a pale teenager who has not had enough bread. What kind of field do you say to a beggar widow?

The situation of the fighters who drove the people from Kishwari became worse: it was not easy to fight against the division, destruction, and hunger that conquered the victorious country, and to raise the spirits of the oppressed people, than to enter the battle against the Nazis.

Salvation is in work. In the field.

The collective farmers did not see the surface of the house, they lived and worked by the month in small huts made of twigs and branches. From early spring to dark autumn, he sweated in the pain of harvest, dug a canal and made a ditch in winter.

If you look at the ambassador, he is the harvester (agronomist), the accountant and the report maker, the threshing keeper and the cart driver. He is not in the habit of saying no if you ask him to do something. Always the same: calm and fair.

Therefore, in 1949, when the development of Mirzachol began, and Elchiboy was appointed as the chairman of a new collective farm opened in Boyovut district, no one was surprised.

There was plenty of land in the new farm, and there were even more worries: there was no dilapidated building, no house, no equipment, and no designated farmer. The surroundings are a horseman's trot, and a field full of sedges, where the head is not visible. 

y field. It's a cold winter ahead.

The ambassador, along with his fellow villagers, once again tied the hoe to his waist and the stretcher to the couch. They dug ditches during the day and dug a cellar at night. In this year, first ten, then twenty households "became a household". One of the basements became both the house and the office of the chairman with a young family.

"Don't laugh," Elchi Abdusalomov, who later turned his collective farm into the most fertile farm of the Syrdarya region, and the holder of the title of honored agricultural worker in Uzbekistan, used to tell the story. When the snow and rain came in a hurry, the "door" of the cellar, which was closed with rice on the branches, would freeze until morning. If you push harder, it will break. The person who came out of the basement one step earlier would clean the "door" of others from the snow and help open it. If you look, everyone's mouth and head are black, and their clothes are dry and smelly. Nevertheless, the spirit of the people is high. They even joked, ``Two and a half pants, we'll come back from winter.''

The young chairman, a kind, cheerful and optimistic person, found everyone's tongue and made them laugh. He appreciates the deeds and virtues of people more than elephants. If he made a mistake, he forgave him, if he made a mistake, he did not apologize. In time, my salary stopped working.

Soon, the water flowing from the raised ditch was rolling on the banks, the cotton field was plowing, and the grain field was noisy. The wind blew from the bottom of his cattle, and the wings of his bird were filled with fluff.

Tractors rumbled in the gray fields scratched by plows yesterday. At first, one-room, one-hall "white houses" were built in place of cellars. Seeing the houses, people cheered. The chairman became acquainted with Umar Mahsum, an architect from Tashkent, and became friends together. He drew the history of the modern village.

Streets adapted to the path of the Bekobad wind, which constantly "licks" the face with its bitter tongue in winter and summer, modern multi-room houses and asphalt roads appeared between the houses. Cholkuvar Landing - Sovatabad has become a bustling corner. It has its own school, kindergarten, palace of culture, sports ground.

Of course, all these changes did not happen overnight. Ambassador Abdusalomov, the person at the head of these affairs, did not study the art of management in prestigious higher education institutions. He completed only eight classes of high school, and then a short-term course for agricultural workers.

He was a kind, active, blessed, good person. He passed eighty for good. Amonat did not forget the eternal world because of the blessings of this world. Ambassador Haji father became steadfast in piety and strong in faith. Maybe that's why God protected him during the Second World War! Maybe that's why he gave and continues to help his and his descendants' work and livelihood!

Not everyone is blessed with such a life. He does not give strength, luck, state, fame to everyone. Even when it is given, not everyone takes it away.

Ambassador Abdusalomov was a steadfast person who did not betray the trust given to him by God for testing - his life, his faith, a loyal son who loved his country and people.

Slave is OPEN

Source: "Hurriyat" newspaper.

June 10, 2020