Hero of the Great Patriotic War, Kyrgyzstani Afanasy Ivanovich Volkovenko

Hero of the Soviet Union Volkovenko Afanasy Ivanovich

Afanasy Ivanovich Volkovenko was born in 1907 in the village of Pokrovka, Loktevskaya volost, Zmeinogorsk district of Tomsk province, into a peasant family of poor farmers. He was Ukrainian. In the autumn of 1928, Afanasy Volkovenko was drafted into active military service, after which in 1931 he moved to the city of Frunze and worked in an administrative and economic position in the "Konditer" cooperative.

In late July 1941, he was drafted into the Soviet Army. He served as a lieutenant in a cavalry regiment. He participated in the Great Patriotic War from its first days, going through a long and glorious combat path.

On June 3, 1944, A. I. Volkovenko was awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union.

The hero did not live to see the victory. On November 6, 1944, while heading on leave, he was killed in a skirmish with Bandera supporters.

He was buried in the city of Chervonoarmeysk, Rivne region.

FORWARD, SOLDIER...

They were heading towards the front line, while it, rumbling with distant artillery rolls, was rolling further east.

For the second month, a group of six soldiers led by sergeant Volkovenko was breaking through from encirclement to their own. They traveled at night, and during the day, hiding in roadside thickets, they watched with clenched teeth as columns of enemy tanks and vehicles rushed by.

— When will they stop this horde? — thought the sergeant angrily, feeling his index finger go numb on the trigger of the light machine gun.

He looked back at the guys: not every one of them would be recognized by their relatives now. Exhausted, with unshaven faces, eyes sunken from lack of sleep, bandaged, blackened with blood and stuck to their wounds, they found the strength again and again to rise and move forward. They had fought honestly from the first day of the war to the last bullet, to the last shell. No, they could not stop the fiery wave that rolled over them. But they were not broken...

— Comrade sergeant,— Sashka, the youngest among them, a red army soldier with artillery insignia, broke his thoughts. — Allow me to report! Here, not far away, I found a gun, our 45-millimeter,— he blurted out, catching his breath. His eyes were shining.

— So what? — Volkovenko looked at him in confusion. — You can find a tank on the road now too.

— What do you mean? — Sashka was taken aback. — It’s completely intact. There are even shells. It’s right here, close by.

— Alright, you convinced me,— the sergeant softened,— let’s go see your artillery.

A few minutes later, they reached the elevation, which stood about three hundred meters from the road, by making short runs.

In a shallow trench stood a gun, aimed towards the road. Among the broken crates from shells and empty casings lay the corpse of a young artillery lieutenant. With his face pressed into the ground, he was clutching a shell in his hands.

It seemed that he would raise his head, shake the dirt off his tunic, and continue the fight.

Volkovenko carefully freed the shell from the lieutenant's hands and shoved it into the gun's barrel. “The position is really excellent,” the sergeant thought to himself, “direct fire.”

— And shells, seven pieces, all intact,— Sashka joyfully reported, as if continuing his thought. Volkovenko had long understood what Sashka was planning and what order he was waiting for from the sergeant.

So, we will fight,— the sergeant winked at Sashka. — Go on, call the guys...

The remaining shells were armor-piercing. Therefore, it was decided to wait for the next column of tanks, fire all the shells, and retreat into the forest.

To avoid wasting time, Volkovenko ordered to widen and deepen the trench, and to dig another one nearby, from which, if necessary, they could cover the group's retreat with machine-gun fire.

On the eastern slope of the elevation, they buried the lieutenant.

The seven shells, carefully wiped by Sashka's hands and laid next to the gun, gleamed with a cold shine.

Volkovenko noticed how the fatigue disappeared from the soldiers' faces, how clearly and diligently they carried out his orders.

The day was drawing to evening when the rumble of tank engines was heard in the distance.

— Everyone — to your positions, — commanded the sergeant. — First, shoot at the lead vehicle, — he began to give instructions to Sashka, but noticing how he frowned in displeasure, he decided not to press on the artilleryman's pride anymore.

The first tank, painted with camouflage paint, emerged from around the corner. Behind it came the second, third. Following them was a column of trucks covered with tarpaulin.

— Don’t rush, Sashka, let them come closer, to be sure...

Volkovenko did not have time to finish when the first shot thundered deafeningly. The lead tank crashed into the ditch and caught fire.

It was as if a convulsion passed through the enemy column. Soldiers began to jump out of the trucks, shooting wildly in different directions, and scattered along the road.

— Fire! — the sergeant commanded again, and the second shell flew towards the column.

After the fourth shot, two tanks and a truck were already burning on the road.

— Well done, Sashka! — shouted Volkovenko...

But the fascists had already determined from which side the fire was coming. The elevation was showered with machine-gun and automatic fire.

— Everyone — into the forest,— ordered the sergeant and, grabbing the light machine gun, began firing short bursts, not allowing the fascists to launch an attack.

After firing the last shell, Sashka joined the sergeant.

— And now, Sashok, it’s time for us too!

The stray bullets were still whistling after them when the forest thicket closed behind their backs...

More than once on their way to the front, they engaged in battle. They were no longer six, but about thirty. But they were still led by sergeant Volkovenko.

Only in December did they reach the front line. How often it appeared to them in a sea of fire and the roar of explosions. But they were met by an amazing silence. Only rare shots echoed in the frosty night gloom, and single rockets hissed through the sky.

Scouts sent ahead returned after an hour, reporting that everything was calm ahead. The Germans were hiding in bunkers, not even posting guards...

About an hour remained until dawn when the sergeant roused the men. Forming a line, they moved forward.

And suddenly, ahead, above the front line, the night darkness was split by flashes of fire. The ground trembled from the artillery barrage. At that moment, they could not have imagined, could not have known, that having broken the onslaught of the fascist troops rushing towards Moscow, the Red Army had gone on the offensive...

“Just in time we reached our own,” Volkovenko thought, trying on a new sheepskin coat and boots. “We made it to the hot business.”

Three days after breaking out of encirclement, he was assigned to the 1st Guards Cavalry Corps. His wounded shoulder still hurt, the fatigue from hundreds of kilometers of roads had not passed. But the sergeant tried not to notice it. He was among his own.

Having broken the resistance of the German-fascist troops, the armies of the Kalinin, Western, and Bryansk fronts began to penetrate the enemy's defenses.

Deciding to develop the counteroffensive on all strategic directions, the Supreme Command Headquarters planned to deliver the main strike against the Army Group "Center." Its defeat was to be carried out in the area of Rzhev - Vyazma - Smolensk. At the forefront of this main strike was also the 1st Guards Cavalry Corps.

In mid-February 1942, south of Vyazma, the corps, supported by airborne troops and Smolensk partisans, fought fierce battles, trying to break through in a northern direction to connect with the 2nd Cavalry Corps. But this attempt failed. The corps was initially cut off from its main forces and then encircled.

Having secured itself in the area of Dorogobuzh, the surrounded group of Soviet troops created a strong circular defense. But this defense was not passive, waiting for the main forces to come to the rescue.

The division commander called Volkovenko late in the evening.

— Commander of the fourth squadron, sergeant Volkovenko has arrived at your request,— he reported, entering the dugout.

— Sit down, Afanasy Ivanovich,— the division commander began the conversation in a rather homely manner. Volkovenko had been appointed commander of the squadron a week ago, replacing the previous squadron commander who had died in the last battle.

— The scouts have just returned,— the division commander continued. — The Germans are up to something again. Right here,— he pointed with a pencil at the map lying on the table,— near the village of Myshenka, unusual activity has been noted. According to their estimates, there is up to a battalion of infantry. And yesterday it was quiet here.

— So they decided to test us again, comrade major-general,— Volkovenko concluded the division commander's thought and immediately added: — What if we strike tonight while they are still not entrenched?

— You understand the situation correctly,— the division commander approved...

Half an hour later, the squadron was in the saddles. On the move, Volkovenko explained the task assigned to the platoon commanders and his plan:

— We will burst into the village from two sides. I don’t think the fascists will set up large barriers at night. It’s warmer by the stoves now. And they feel secure in their rear. So try not to reveal yourselves too early. Don’t get involved in minor skirmishes. Spread out immediately throughout the village and only then start eliminating the centers of resistance.

They approached the village without a single shot. Silence reigned around. Only from the opposite street came the lonely barking of a dog that had miraculously survived.

The Germans did not expect a night attack. Let alone a cavalry squadron that burst into the village like a whirlwind. Half-dressed soldiers jumped out of the houses, trying to organize a defense. But the initiative was already on the side of the cavalrymen. The battle lasted no more than half an hour.

Two hours later, Volkovenko was reporting to the division commander about the completion of the combat mission.

— Well done, guys,— the division commander smiled tiredly. Apparently, he too had not closed his eyes, waiting for the squadron's return.

— May I go, comrade major-general? he turned to leave the dugout.
Volkovenko. But the division commander stopped him.

— And what is this? — he noticed a bloodstain on the left sleeve of the sheepskin coat.

— Oh, it’s nothing, just a little scratch,— the sergeant explained modestly.

— Urgently to the bandage, and then — to rest. I will try not to disturb you until evening. Go, sergeant, and convey my gratitude to all the guys...

More than once that spring of forty-two, the squadron under the command of sergeant Volkovenko carried out responsible combat missions, inflicting significant damage on the enemy in manpower and equipment.

At the end of May, the enemy again attempted to destroy the surrounded cavalry corps. In the area of the village of Drakino, supported by aviation and 35 tanks, the Germans decided to break through the defense of the cavalrymen and encircle the 6th Guards Regiment. The main blow fell on the right flank, where the fourth squadron held the defense. Attack after attack followed, but the enemy could not break through the defense. Leaving about a hundred dead soldiers and ten tanks on the battlefield, the enemy retreated.

However, the German-fascist command could not calm down. All new significant forces were being introduced into the battle to destroy the surrounded Soviet units.

Possessing a large numerical and technical superiority, enemy units began to push our forces back.

Considering the situation, the Soviet command decided to withdraw partisan units and military units from under Dorogobuzh.

When the situation and possible options for breaking out of the encirclement were discussed the night before the breakout, Volkovenko asked to speak.

— I propose to break through in the area of the village of Lyakhovo,— he began. — There is also room for cavalry to maneuver. We need to strike with one fist, to be sure. I strongly ask to include my squadron in the breakthrough strike group. The guys will not let you down. I believe in each of them as I believe in myself.

And the squadron accomplished the task set before it. On June 19, 1942, being the first to break through the enemy's defenses, it ensured the corps' exit from encirclement and the crossing of the front line.

For these battles in the encirclement near Vyazma, hundreds of soldiers and officers were recommended for state awards. Among those awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union was Afanasy Ivanovich Volkovenko.

The news of his high title found him in Poland in June 1944. The 1st Guards Cavalry Corps was advancing towards the borders of fascist Germany in fierce battles. Displaying courage and heroism, the squadron under the command of Lieutenant Volkovenko liberated Polish towns and villages. At the end of July, in one of the battles, Afanasy Ivanovich was wounded again. After recovering in a front-line hospital, he was granted a short leave.

But he was not destined to see Kyrgyzstan again. At one of the stops, the train he was traveling in was shelled by a band of Bandera supporters. In this last battle, Lieutenant Volkovenko was killed.

V. CHERNYSHEV