THE FAILURE OF THE SAKHALIN EXPEDITION Transfer the Russian colonies to the United States under the pretext of military necessity and a threat to their security E.A. Glass failed. But the idea of ​​abandoning Alaska as an unbearable burden for Russia was already filling the heads of the ruling elite

Aniva (city in Sakhalin region)

Gastello (urban village in Sakhalin region)

Vostochny (urban-type settlement in the Sakhalin region)

Vakhrushev (urban village in Sakhalin region)

A book written by Omsk aviator Anatoly Brazhnikov was published in Omsk in the spring. LiveJournal has already written about her. Here, it seems, you can
download .

And then in the fall it ended up with me, a paper book itself. Thanks to my colleagues in Omsk.

I opened it, leafed through it, and found myself on the history of the author’s service on Sakhalin, where I grew up and next to the same Sokol military airfield, we harvested potatoes at school more than once. And then, back in June 1985, we boarded the Tu-154 there, when the runway in Khomutovo was extended. In the 1980s, MiG-23s were based in Sokol. Sometimes they flew south at supersonic speed almost not far from Yuzhny. The noise was good :)

This is what is said in the book about Sokol in the first half of the 1950s (conscription in the fall of 1951 from the Omsk region):

They were brought by train to Magdagachi, Amur Region, to ShMAS.

During our studies, we often unloaded wagons with a corrugated metal plate of about 2x0.5 meters - then in the spring we stacked them at the Magdagachi military airfield.

We studied radio and electrical equipment of aircraft at school. There was a lot of physical training and political training. July 1952 - Air Force Sergeants

Me and two friends were sent to serve in Sakhalin. We went to Vladivostok by train. There, on Second River, we lived in tents for two weeks. Then we boarded a “huge ocean steamer.” We sailed on it for three days to Korsakov. There was a storm on the road and a lack of fresh water (it was given out once in the morning). During the day, dolphins and sharks were observed from the deck. We landed in the middle of the day.

We walked from the pier to the train station in Yuzhno-Sakhalinsk (it’s actually 40 kilometers, most likely we walked to the Korsakov-Gleb train station). Then the train went to the north of the island and in the evening we arrived at...military unit 65368. I ended up in the 7th Red Banner Reconnaissance Regiment. The regiment reported directly to Moscow. Operationally, the regiment was subordinate to the commander of the 29th VA, General Belokon (who was based in Sokol, judging by the text - Gleb). There was also a MiG-15 fighter regiment in Sokol. Just in 1951-52. Il-28R reconnaissance aircraft began to arrive in our regiment. The photographic equipment was in bomb bays. There were two additional tanks of 900 liters each on the wing consoles. And before that, our regiment was armed with Pe-2s, and they were just being written off when I was there.

The IL-28 was maintained and prepared for takeoff by a team of seven people: an aircraft technician - an officer assigned to the aircraft, an assistant technician, and mechanics for electrical equipment, weapons, instruments, photographic equipment, and oxygen equipment (five mechanics).

In July 1953, there was an Il-28 crash on takeoff run - it didn’t take off, the brakes and tires came off, then there was a ditch and the plane crashed into it. There was a fire, cartridges from a 37-mm cannon began to explode... Senior Lieutenant Sukhov, engineer Krechet, and radio operator gunner were killed.

We also had a Lend-Lease Boston A20, which was used to tow cones for target practice. One day, while landing, his right main gear collapsed. ...grind, calves, circle 360 ​​degrees around the right plane, stop. Everybody is alive.

I eventually became an “Excellent Air Force Achiever” and was awarded a Certificate of Honor from the Komsomol Central Committee.

He took first place in the regiment in skiing.

In August 1955, demobilization. Many also traveled to Vladivostok by ship. And the senior officer, Bakaev, suggested that I fly with Khabarovsk on a Li-2; he was flying on a business trip. So after a little over an hour I found myself in Khabarovka and then a train to Omsk.
________________________________________ _______

The book itself:

Tatiana wrote this message.

My place of birth is the village of Sokol, year of birth 1960, father military Sapozhnikov Anatoly Yakovlevich at that time a young lieutenant, mother an English teacher - Elena Grigorievna, worked at the school in the village in 1960, but not for long, she was fired due to class cuts

Larisa wrote this message.

I would like to find a connection with my classmates 1st, 2nd grade (I don’t remember the school number, wooden building, I’ll try to find a photo of our class), years of study 1970-1971 (my classmates Zhenya KHOKHLOV, Lenochka Toptygina). Me name is LARISA Akulich. We lived on the river bank in Japanese 2-story houses. So much snow piled up to the 2nd floor. We somehow dug ourselves out. My dad served in an air unit.

YURI wrote this message.

I AM 71 YEARS OLD. I LIVED IN YUZHNY SOKOL FROM 1956 TO 1960. I ASK YOU TO RESPOND FROM THOSE WHO LIVED THERE AT THIS TIME. I WILL GIVE THE NAMES OF THOSE I REMEMBER. TEACHER OF RUSSIAN LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE MAKHNEVA LIDIA YAKOVLEVNA. KHOMYAKOVA GALINA* AVERICHEVA SVETLANA* MAIBORDA VLADIMIR* RAZUMOVSKY GENNADY* SHANE LYUDMILA.

Our Guest wrote this message.

The previous photo didn’t turn out the way I wanted - it shows the ruins of my house (on the right), and then a house, half of which burned down while we were still there. Now it says Pushkina 38. And ours then had the address Pushkina 119. I don’t know why 119, but address is exact.

Vladimir wrote this message.

Two years ago I wrote comments here and posted school group photos - grades 1 and 5. And last year I was lucky enough to visit Sokol. I found our house, but all that was left was ruins. And the neighboring house (Pushkina 38 is written on it) is also dilapidated, but smaller. I posted some of the photos in the “I love Sakhalin” section. In the photo I touched the wall of our house (Japanese two-story) The photo was taken from the street that leads to MIG (I don’t know the name)

Vladimir wrote this message.

Two years ago I wrote comments here and posted school group photos - grades 1 and 5. And last year I was lucky enough to visit Sokol. I found our house, but all that was left was ruins. And the neighboring house (Pushkina 38 is written on it) is also dilapidated, but smaller. I posted some of the photos in the “I love Sakhalin” section. In the photo I touched the wall of our house (Japanese two-story) The photo was taken from the street that leads to MIG (I don’t know the name)

Sorochinskaya Lyudmila Valerievna wrote this message.

I’m looking for Sorochinsky’s father, Valery Fedorovich, in the village of Sokol. Maybe someone knows him. I’ve never seen him. Please help. My phone number is 89098859850

Answered Nikolay Makhonyok:

19-11-2017 13:35

Lyudmila, tell me a little more about yourself, maybe I can help you. Unfortunately, the phone is powerless in this case, I am in another country. But the Internet is at our service.
Best regards, Nikolay Makhonyok.

№3
I think there is no reason to hang out the sheets in order to have time to receive a dose of criticism along the way, and so that those who are interested and who are “catched” by the topic can express their own view of events, different from the opinion of the narrator. Yes, and I may be wrong about something, especially about what I have to write from memory.

I found my notebooks and diaries that I kept in the army, re-read them, refreshed my memory of what I had forgotten in more than 30 years, and now I will write, referring both to memory and quoting the diaries. I will not particularly adhere to chronology, my thought will return to the past, surf today, and again make an excursion into those years that are already distant in comparison with the duration of human life. Much has already been forgotten, much has been distorted by the aberration of memory, and only excerpts from the diary can claim accuracy, but they can claim accuracy, because they ultimately reflect my perception of actions, events and phenomena at that time. I myself was now interested in re-reading and re-evaluating how my views on certain aspects of the then reality had transformed.

And now I’ll return from Sakhalin to ShMAS once again. Here is the diary entry

October 14, (1973) Sunday
“Well, what can I tell you about Sakhalin?”
I'm sitting at the station in Kholmsk.
Today we arrived here from Vanino. By ferry. We swam all night. There are four of us left from the platoon: Mikhailov, Milyutin, Netsvetov and me. Sergeant - and he left for Khabarovsk. We were left alone. They whitewashed it in class and washed it. Yesterday the sirs got completely mad, put on some cologne and gave in. And the day before yesterday in the evening they caught two gavriks - Popov and Babushkin. They were placed in front of the company. One is standing with bottles in his hands, the other is holding a watermelon under his arm. Sirs, the authorities spoke out, Odnoglazkov gave them ten days each, and in the end they released the green serpent from the bottles by breaking them on an urn. The entire formation stood, looked at the puddle near the trash can and moved its nostrils predatorily and carnivorously, turning on its sense of smell at full capacity. The next day, Ibragimov tore up their class certificates.

(This will separate the diary entries from today's thoughts. And the fact that the diary is quoted will be indicated by the date.)

In this way, the guys found an outlet from the hardships and deprivations of military service, running to Chistovodka, which, I believe, was the name of the village not far from the unit, where they could buy alcohol. By the way, the sergeants were also guilty of this. Someone got knocked up like that (now it comes to mind - Sergeant Arefyev), but I can’t guarantee whether it was him or not. He was publicly stripped of his rank in educational institutions, and then at some meeting the political instructor, Captain Shumilov, nicknamed Radish, pointedly addressed him by rank: “Private so-and-so, stop talking!” True, a few days later, if not the next day, he again wore his sergeant's shoulder straps and continued to command the platoon. What can you not do for educational purposes?

The first days of my stay in the unit were almost erased from memory. There are a few episodes left.

The first is the bathhouse. Sergeant Bezlepkin took us there, such a healthy fellow with a wild forelock that did not at all fit with the image of a conscript soldier. He looked more like a tank soldier, called up from civilian life for retraining, who sometimes burst into our dining room in a noisy crowd of gypsies in protective uniforms. Then the dining room, where we sit at a separate table for 10 people, and we have the opportunity to compare the food in training with the food in the unit.

The second is a meeting with the unit commander. The corridor on the first floor on the left, leading from the lobby, so to speak, about this dark foyer, illuminated only by the light of the window on the landing and a light bulb (or several?), but the window at the entrance, as I recall, was either covered with something , or it was not there at all. If it's wrong, please correct it. At the end of the corridor, on the left hand opposite the doors to the technical class, is the office of the unit commander.

The commander is dry, lean, slender - this is how they sometimes show us on TV American generals fighting somewhere in Iraq. Thick hair is already touched with gray, deeply sunken eyes under bushy eyebrows, the head is slightly tilted, so it looks slightly askance and from under the brows. Speech is accelerating, faltering towards the end of the phrase into a tongue twister. He introduces himself to us, it remains in my memory: “my rank is major, and my surname is Mayorov.” I don’t remember if all the young additions were in the office at the same time, most likely yes. Nine of us arrived in the unit, who will be distributed between three workshops; Yakut citizen Sanya Zausaev, Yura Popov - yes, the same one - will be included in the SD. “from Chistovodka”, he will still cause a lot of trouble for the authorities, and Volodya Toskin is also from Yakutia; The RLO workshop will be replenished with Slava Ivanov and Yakovtsev, Captain Azarov (but the workshop has already forgotten him) nicknamed Cain will get current foreigners from Lithuania - Gelumbitskas Povilas, Pasha, as we called him later, and Endzelaitis Vitas with Miklashevich Alik, I will end up in the AB workshop and SVPS. I also remember a phrase from the major’s speech, said a little hesitantly, the meaning of which boiled down to the fact that people in the unit, as everywhere else, are all kinds, from which I learned for myself that one needs to keep one’s ears open and be on the alert.

The next picture that remains in my memory is a sleeping area, in which about forty people usually live, and now, when those leaving have not yet left, a little more, and therefore bunk beds have been temporarily installed. There are about ten “grandfathers” who served for a year and a half. There are about 20 “pheasants” who have completed half of the two-year term. We, who have served for six months, are called “brushes”; this year’s autumn call is called “pods”, but we don’t have any of those. (Or is there anyway? In the machine shop? It seems there are one or two, but I can’t remember the names). Besides us, the newly arrived “shrubs,” there are two more from our spring conscription, two Ivans - Solovyanyuk and Budyldin, who came here immediately after quarantine, one as a turner, the other as a driver. A fragment of a memory: Budyldin and I are standing at the window, in the location of the mechanics, and he tells me how hard life is here, and how hard it was for them during these five months. At first I take him for a “pheasant”, since I believe that our call is the youngest, and all the other “locals” are at least six months older than us.

It was then that I heard the term “masterpieces” for the first time, which somewhat does not fit with the direct meaning of this word, and at first I do not understand what they are talking about. And then I am privileged to see these same masterpieces. One of the demobilizers (“a serviceman became a demobilizer” when the order was issued to dismiss him into the reserve) lays out “spare parts” on the bed: a stand, a fuselage, a keel, planes, stabilizers, a cockpit, a hemisphere symbolizing the globe, an electrode “ C grade" made of stainless steel, which should represent a contrail, as well as tools and consumables: files, needle files, sandpaper, GOI paste, "Tsapon" varnish of several colors, bolts, drills, taps, vices, etc. I look at this entire cabinet of curiosities with indifference; it doesn’t make a special impression on me, even when the demobilizer assembles an airplane and shows it in all its glory. It seems primitive and clumsy to me, although after a year I myself will become infected with this business, “masterpiece”, and will look at this fun or pastime - call it what you want this innocent name, which was openly not encouraged by the authorities, especially for young soldiers , - I will look at it as something important and an integral part of a soldier’s life and leisure, if not existence. I wrote “not encouraged... especially for young soldiers” because it would never have occurred to anyone that a young soldier would undertake to make masterpieces for himself. But he had to participate in this quite regularly. At first, I didn’t escape this either. Even, probably, on the very first evening. One of the demobilizers handed me what seemed to be a flat surface and ordered me to sand it, first with coarse, then with fine sandpaper. Ours also skin.

The idea of ​​starting my own blog-diary came to me a long time ago, but I didn’t have time to turn it into reality: adaptation to a new place of study, the study itself, urgent matters, and then sudden problems with which I am struggling to this day got in the way.
But perhaps the biggest hindrance was the doubt: will my first entry be of interest to that indefinite circle of people (and not only them) with whom I have been spending time within the walls of this wonderful institution for the second year now? How to correctly and accurately show the reader the essence of the events of 20, 30 and 40 years ago?
But my task is not to reproduce with scrupulous accuracy all the facts and events. After all, only those events and phenomena of the past are truly interesting that allow us to establish a connection between times and generations, from which some living thread stretches to the present day.
I just want to clearly show what happened to the once strategically important military airfield located in the central region of the island. Sakhalin, in the urban settlement Smirnykh, where I actually lived the first 18 years of my life.
But first, a little geography and history.
P.g.t. Smirnykh is located in the central part. O. Sakhalin, in the valley of the Poronai River. 1 km to the east is the Smirnykh Air Force base, finally built in 1966 (the first runway was built by the Japanese during the occupation of Sakhalin and the Kuril Islands in the 40s).
What makes this airfield unique? Firstly, by its secrecy. Thanks to its favorable geographical position (not only in the valley, but also between two mountain ranges). The only negative was frequent winds, which sometimes knocked fighters off course, especially during landing.
Secondly, to this day this airfield is maintained in serviceable condition, sometimes An-12 flies here from Komsomolsk-on-Amur.

Well, for reference. Two IAPs were then based on Sakhalin: in Sokol (777 IAP) and Smirnykh (528 IAP). They were part of the air defense division (Yuzhno-Sakhalinsk). The third regiment of this division was based on the island of Iturup (387 IAP).
This is how it was in Soviet times.
MiG-23 at a gas station.




As you can see, MiG-23 fighters were mainly based here. Even hangars (there are about 20 of them now) were built exactly for them (modern Su-27s, for example, cannot accommodate them - the wingspan does not allow them).
A pair of MiG-23s on combat duty.


I found an approximate diagram of training flights and duty routes on some website.


Actually, the MiG-23 itself from three angles.


"Ready for takeoff!"


One of three houses in a military town where military families lived.


"Alarm suitcase"

Day of final disbandment of 528 IAP.


Unfortunately, I no longer found photographs that at least figuratively conveyed the atmosphere of those days, the period of the 70s and 80s.
But we managed to capture the airfield in August of this year.
As you can see, almost 20 years have passed since the last service. The regiment, as such, ceased to exist and shared the fate of two more island regiments, and not only island ones. Almost all the military personnel resigned and, together with their families, left in all directions. Some lanes are terribly overgrown with all sorts of weeds. The planes were transported to other parts of our Motherland, and those that remained were cut into scrap metal. The hangars, as I mentioned above, are not capable of accommodating the latest fighter models, and only two of them are in any way used as huge storage facilities. The rest continue to stand in huge monoliths and wait to see what will happen to them next.
View of the first, Japanese strip.


It seems that this is the former headquarters where the debriefing took place.


One of the bomb shelters. As a schoolboy, my comrades and I had our own headquarters there.


One of the hangars and its massive gate.



Runway.




The 3rd Squadron was based here.






Well, a completely depressing sight. Those same MiGs that were not destined to fly for several more years before the end of their service life...




Another remains found in the forest.








Another MiG is also in one of the hangars. And another one, also somewhere in the wilderness, but on the other side of the airfield.
I don’t know what the author of this statement was thinking about (maybe he rewatched “Terminator” with its popular phrase), but I hope he meant the revival of IAP.

.
Here's a story with a sad ending.
Do not mistake this article (if it can still be called an article, of course) for the usual dissatisfaction of a student. It’s just a shame to see that the heritage once built by our grandfathers and fathers has been lost or destroyed. I gave just one example. But similar things happened in other regions of Russia (I write “happened” because it seems like slowly, but on the right path, we are moving towards recovery). How there were many regiments throughout the USSR. And there are only a few left...
This small investigation-comparison is all the more symbolic for me because my father gave 5 years of his life here, protecting the expanses of the Sakhalin shores and plateaus.
And I just want to believe that these destructive clouds will dissipate someday. And again the airfields will live a new life. And again new fighters will cut through the blue sky at supersonic speed...
P.S. Since this is my first article, I ask you not to judge strictly.