The book begins with the boy Kolya's memories of his teacher Anna Nikolaevna. She taught her students not only school lessons, but also life lessons.
Meanwhile, the war was going on, it was 1945, spring. The narrator, less than a year and two months old, was already a graduate of elementary school.
The following tells about the fact that you constantly want to eat. In general, all the guys can be divided into three groups: ordinary guys, jackals and punks. Ordinary guys were afraid of both. The jackals took away the food, the punks simply inspired fear with their appearance, and the punks gave the impression of a stupid crowd.
One day, when Kolya was sitting eating as usual, he left the soup (an unthinkable thing for the narrator, by the way (since his mother taught him to always finish eating, no matter how much he liked the food). One of the jackals quietly sat up to him and began to beg with his eyes for the remains of the soup. The narrator hesitated, but gave him the soup. He noticed this boy, called him yellow-faced to himself. He also noticed one of the punks who made his way among the small ones without a queue. He nicknamed him Nose.
A few days later, while eating, he again saw the yellow-faced one. He stole bread from a little girl, and because of this a scandal arose. Nose's gang decided to beat up the yellow-faced man, but it turned out that they didn't even know how to fight, they were just struggling. Yellowface grabbed Nose by the throat and nearly strangled him. The gang fled in fear. Yellowface walked up to the fence and fainted. Kolya called for help, and the yellow-faced man was brought to his senses. It turned out that he had not eaten for five days and that he was stealing bread not for himself, but for his sister Marya. The narrator found out that the yellow-faced man's name was Vadka.
A little about the heroes:
The narrator lived with his mother and grandmother, his father fought. At home it was as if they “wrapped him in a cocoon”, sheltering him from all troubles, as he himself said. He wasn’t particularly hungry, he was dressed and shod, and he didn’t miss classes.
Marya and Vadka lived completely differently. Their father died at the beginning of the war. The mother was in the hospital with typhus, and there was little hope for recovery. Marya lost her food stamps, so her brother had to go rogue and get food by his cunning. Nevertheless, they did not sink morally. They thought about their mother all the time, lied to her in letters so that she would not worry. They lived in a poorly furnished house. The narrator learned all this while communicating with Vadka.
The narrator was drawn to Vadka like a magnet. He had great respect for this yellow-faced boy. Vadka did not have enough money and in order to survive in the cold, he asked the narrator for a jacket for a while. The narrator goes home and talks with his grandmother, tells them about Vadka and Marya and about their difficult situation. The grandmother does not allow him to give his jacket. Then the narrator (probably for the first time) goes against the will of the grandmother. He takes his jacket and runs out into the street to the guys. A little later, the narrator's mother approaches them. He tells her what’s the matter, the mother treated Vadka and Marya with sympathy, fed them to their fill, and from satiety they fell asleep right at the table.
The next day, the three of them got ready for school. Marya went, and the narrator (for the first time!) and Vadka skipped school. Vadka and the narrator who tagged along with him went to look for food. At first Kolya was indignant, Vadik was well-fed, and in the evening his grandmother and mother invited him to visit, why should he look for food? He asked Vadka this question, and he said that the narrator’s mother and grandmother were not obliged to feed him. He did it nobly. He doesn't like to sit on someone else's neck.
Vadik and the narrator begged for some oil cake and looked at the market. Vadik talks about his “survival technology”.
Oh, I forgot to say, when the narrator was at Vadim’s house, he compared his relationship with his mother and Vadik’s relationship with his mother. Kolya was under the protection of his mother, and did not feel sorry for her in any way, was not afraid for her. Vadik’s relationship with his mother is different: he himself says that he is afraid for her, after the death of her husband, the father of Marya and Vadik, she became not herself. This difference is in relation to to a loved one speaks of Vadik’s maturity as a person; he has already seen a lot in life, unlike the narrator. Even wrinkles appeared on Vadik’s face; sometimes he looked like an old man.
When they met Marya from school, the girl scolded him for Vadik skipping classes and said that she had been given food stamps. Vadka and Marya finally ate in the dining room like the others, but Marya’s second meal was taken away, Vadik drove away the offender.
They leave the dining room, joke and laugh. They tore Vadika’s coat with a knife, Marya began to cry. Vadik goes to school because he is called to the principal, and the narrator accompanies Marya home. There they write a letter to her mother, the taciturn narrator is suddenly attacked by the spirit of writing, he imagines himself in the place of Vadik and Marya. They take the letter to the hospital, to a scary place in the village.
Then they go to the narrator’s home, do homework there, and eat. Vadik comes in with textbooks tied with a belt and a full briefcase of food, which the teachers gave him through the director. Vadik blames the narrator's mother for the call to the director and these handouts. She pretends that she has nothing to do with it. Kolya’s mother sits Vadim down at the table, and he reluctantly agrees. The conversation turns to the bathhouse. It turns out that after their mother’s hospitalization, Vadik and Marya washed only once because Marya was embarrassed to go to the men’s bathhouse, so she couldn’t wash herself, it was difficult. The narrator talks about childhood: “You seem to be free, like everyone else, but no, you are not free. Sooner or later you will definitely need to do something that your soul resists with all its might. But they tell you what is necessary, necessary, and you, toiling, suffering, stubbornly, still do what they demand.”
Then, when Marya and Vadka leave, Kolya’s mother scolds him for skipping classes.
After some time, it was May 8, the narrator notices a strange fuss in his mother’s behavior, tears in her eyes. He thinks something happened to his father. The mother says that everything is fine and offers to go visit Marya and Vadka. There they drink tea, the mother feels somehow unnatural. Kolya's suspicions about his father intensify, but everything is fine with him.
May 9 is coming - Victory Day. Everyone is happy, they seem close to each other: they are united by the joy of victory. At school no one could sit still. Anna Nikolaevna told her students the following:
“You know,” the teacher said, hesitating a little, as if she had decided to tell us something very important and adult. – Time will pass, a lot, a lot of time, and you will become quite adults. You will not only have children, but also children’s children, your grandchildren. Time will pass, and everyone who was an adult when the war was going on will die. Only you, the current children, will remain. Children of the past war. – She paused. “Neither your daughters, nor your sons, nor your grandchildren, of course, will know the war. In all the land there will be only you who remembers it. And it may happen that new babies will forget our grief, our joy, our tears! So, don’t let them forget! Do you understand? You won’t forget, so don’t let others!”
Kolya went to Vadim and Marya’s house. The lights were off in their apartment, the door was open. Marya was lying on the bed in her clothes. Vadik was sitting on the floor next to her. To the narrator’s question “What happened?”, Vadik replies that their mother died a few days ago, and they only found out about it today. Not every street had a holiday on May 9th.
Vadik and Marya were sent to an orphanage. Kolya visited them once, but their conversation did not go well. Since then he has not seen them anymore; the orphanage moved to another place.
The work ends with the following phrases:
Yes, wars end sooner or later. But hunger retreats slower than the enemy. And the tears don't dry for a long time. And there are canteens with additional meals. And jackals live there. Small, hungry, innocent children. We remember this. Don't forget, new people. Do not forget! This is what our teacher Anna Nikolaevna told me to do.
(3 ratings, average: 5.00 out of 5)
The main theme in the work of Albert Likhanov is the relationship between a child, a teenager and cruel world adults. He devoted most of his works to the formation of the younger generation. The topic of military childhood also did not go unnoticed by this writer. Likhanov dedicated to the children of war, their deprivations and not at all childish sufferings “ Last cold weather" A summary of this story is presented in the article.
Children and war
IN military prose Likhanov reflected the feelings he experienced in childhood. The writer was born in 1935, and witnessed the tragic events of the last war as a child. Children and war are a terrible and unnatural combination. This author’s works dedicated to his wartime childhood are journalistic and heartfeltly truthful. The most tragic of them was given a symbolic name by Likhanov - “The Last Cold”. The summary of this book is a story about the difficult trials that children had to endure during the war. Reading this work, you experience admiration and fear.
The story is told in first person. From the perspective of that boy who, decades later, was able to look at what he experienced through the eyes of an adult, and then tell his readers about heroism and courage. These children were capable of much in the most terrible moments of their lives.
Anna Nikolaevna
At the beginning of the story, the author refers to the memories of his first school years. Likhanov talks about his first teacher with love and respect. "The Last Cold" summary of which - hunger, cold and illness that accompany children of war, are not without good nostalgic descriptions.
Most bright image who will remain in the heart of the main character, Anna Nikolaevna - teacher junior classes. She combined lessons in arithmetic, Russian language and geography with wise life lessons, which at times, as if thinking about something, she presented to her students in an unobtrusive form. “In learning you cannot deceive yourself. You can lie to a teacher, but never to yourself,” she suddenly said quietly, as if she were talking to herself.
Food stamps
The main character of the work is called Kolya. The action takes place in small town, in the deep rear. Children here, no matter what, continue to go to school, mothers continue to go to work. Fathers are somewhere far away fighting the enemy. But in reality, war is everywhere, even where there are no battles or battles. Last year The war discussed in the story is its summary (A. A. Likhanov). “The Last Cold” is a story about the decisive battles for the homeland, which were fought not only by brave soldiers on the front line, but also by civilians in the rear. And even children.
During this period, the voice of announcer Levitan is heard from radio receivers everywhere, who solemnly announces another victory. But hunger and disease undermined people's health. Adolescents and children suffer especially hard deprivations. The main character, like other schoolchildren in this rear-facing city, is entitled to food stamps. The mother and grandmother do everything to ensure that the boy does not feel hungry. But the feeling of unsatisfaction still does not leave him.
Dining room No. 8
The writer Likhanov depicts life in the rear with great authenticity. “The Last Cold”, a brief summary of which is, first of all, the difficult conditions in which children find themselves, is a wise work. The description of the canteen where the boy receives additional food is given great attention. This diet, as the author himself puts it, was truly additional. It was impossible to call him the main one. Sour cabbage soup, tasteless oatmeal - such food did not please Kolya. Although already on the first day of visiting the canteen, he noticed that the children here had developed a peculiar attitude towards food. They ate quickly, with appetite and were very respectful of Aunt Grune, the local distributor.
Jackals
Kolya’s mother taught him to finish a tasteless lunch. And even in this cold dining room, he tried to swallow the sticky, unappetizing oatmeal due to his upbringing. He grew up among close people who loved him. But there are children in the world with a more difficult fate, which is what Albert Likhanov talks about in his work. “The Last Cold,” a brief summary of which makes it possible to realize the severity of the adversity that befell the child’s consciousness, is also a work about destinies that, even against a military background, seem extremely tragic.
Jackals. This was the name given to children in this rear city who were so hungry that they visited canteen No. 8 every day to beg for the remains of an insignificant lunch from children with a more prosperous fate. Kolya’s first meeting with such children made an indelible impression on him. He did not feel hostility or contempt for the “jackals”. He kept thinking about how many days and nights he could go without eating before he could start begging and eat up someone else’s leftovers...
Vadim and Marya
The need to understand and sympathize with a person even when his life is distant and completely different from yours is the main idea of the work and its summary. A. A. Likhanov wrote “The Last Cold” many years after the events that formed the basis of this story. In the book, he wanted to convey not only to children, but also to adults how important it is for a person to feel participation and support in difficult moments.
The main character was disgusted by the behavior of his new acquaintance, Vadim, one of the so-called jackals. But later Kolya realized how unfair he was in his thoughts. Vadim and his sister, Marya, became his friends.
Albert Likhanov
Last cold weather
I dedicate it to the children of the past war, their hardships and not at all children’s suffering. I dedicate it to today’s adults who have not forgotten how to base their lives on the truths of military childhood. May those lofty rules and undying examples always shine and never fade in our memory - after all, adults are just former children.
Remembering my first classes and my dear teacher, dear Anna Nikolaevna, now, when so many years have passed since that happy and bitter time, I can say quite definitely: our teacher loved to be distracted.
Sometimes, in the middle of a lesson, she would suddenly rest her fist on her sharp chin, her eyes would become misty, her gaze would sink into the sky or sweep through us, as if behind our backs and even behind the school wall she saw something happily clear, something we, of course, did not understand , and here is what is visible to her; her gaze became misty even when one of us was stomping around the blackboard, crumbling the chalk, groaning, sniffling, looking questioningly at the class, as if looking for salvation, asking for a straw to grab onto - and then suddenly the teacher became strangely quiet, her gaze softened, she forgot the respondent at the blackboard, forgot us, her students, and quietly, as if to herself and to herself, she uttered some truth that still had a direct relation to us.
“Of course,” she said, for example, as if reproaching herself, “I won’t be able to teach you drawing or music.” But the one who has God’s gift,” she immediately reassured herself and us too, “will be awakened by this gift and will never fall asleep again.”
Or, blushing, she muttered under her breath, again not addressing anyone, something like this:
– If anyone thinks that they can skip just one section of mathematics and then move on, they are sorely mistaken. In learning you cannot deceive yourself. You may deceive the teacher, but you will never deceive yourself.
Either because Anna Nikolaevna did not address her words to any of us specifically, or because she spoke to herself, an adult, and only the last ass does not understand how more interesting conversations adults' teachers' and parents' moral teachings about you, or all this taken together had an effect on us, because Anna Nikolaevna had a military leader's mind, and a good commander, as you know, will not take a fortress if he only hits in the forehead - in a word, Anna Nikolaevna's distractions, her general's maneuvers, and thoughtful reflections at the most unexpected moment turned out, surprisingly, to be the most important lessons.
In fact, I almost don’t remember how she taught us arithmetic, the Russian language, and geography, so it’s clear that this teaching became my knowledge. But the rules of life that the teacher pronounced to herself remained for a long time, if not for a century.
Perhaps trying to instill self-respect in us, or perhaps pursuing a simpler but important goal, spurring on our efforts, Anna Nikolaevna from time to time repeated one apparently important truth.
“This is all it takes,” she said, “just a little more - and they will receive a certificate of primary education.”
Indeed, multi-colored colors swelled inside us. air balloons. We looked, satisfied, at each other. Wow, Vovka Kroshkin will receive the first document in his life. And me too! And, of course, excellent student Ninka. Anyone in our class can get - like this - certificate about education.
At the time when I was studying, elementary education was appreciated. After the fourth grade, they were given a special paper, and they could complete their studies there. True, this rule did not suit any of us, and Anna Nikolaevna explained that we had to complete at least seven years of education, but a document on primary education was still issued, and we thus became quite literate people.
– Look how many adults have only primary education! - Anna Nikolaevna muttered. – Ask your mothers, your grandmothers at home, who finished only one primary school, and think carefully after that.
We thought, asked questions at home and gasped to ourselves: a little more, and it turned out that we were catching up with many of our relatives. If not in height, if not in intelligence, if not in knowledge, then through education we were approaching equality with people we loved and respected.
“Wow,” sighed Anna Nikolaevna, “about a year and two months!” And they will get an education!
Who was she grieving for? Us? For yourself? Unknown. But there was something significant, serious, disturbing in these lamentations...
Immediately after spring break in third grade, that is, without a year and two months initially educated person, I received food stamps.
It was already the forty-fifth, ours were beating the Krauts in vain, Levitan announced a new fireworks display on the radio every evening, and in my soul in the early mornings, at the beginning of a day undisturbed by life, two lightning bolts crossed, blazing - a premonition of joy and anxiety for my father. I seemed to be all tense, superstitiously averting my eyes from such a murderously painful possibility of losing my father on the eve of obvious happiness.
It was in those days, or rather, on the first day after spring break, that Anna Nikolaevna gave me coupons for supplementary nutrition. After classes I have to go to cafeteria number eight and have lunch there.
We were given free food vouchers one by one - there wasn’t enough for everyone at once - and I had already heard about the eighth canteen.
Who didn’t know her, really! This gloomy, drawn-out house, an extension to former monastery, looked like an animal that was spread out, clinging to the ground. From the heat that made its way through the unsealed cracks in the frames, the glass in the eighth dining room not only froze, but was overgrown with uneven, lumpy frost. Gray bangs over front door frost hung over, and when I passed by the eighth dining room, it always seemed to me as if there was such a warm oasis with ficus trees inside, probably along the edges of the huge hall, maybe even under the ceiling, like in the market, there live two or three happy sparrows, which managed to fly into ventilation pipe and they tweet at themselves beautiful chandeliers, and then, having grown bolder, they sit on ficus trees.
This is how the eighth dining room seemed to me while I was just passing by it, but had not yet been inside. What significance, one might ask, do these ideas have now?
Even though we lived in a rear-facing city, even though my mother and grandmother sat down with all their might, not allowing me to go hungry, the feeling of insatiability visited me many times a day. Infrequently, but still regularly, before going to bed, my mother made me take off my T-shirt and bring my shoulder blades together on my back. Smiling, I obediently did what she asked, and my mother sighed deeply, or even began to sob, and when I demanded to explain this behavior, she repeated to me that the shoulder blades come together when a person is extremely thin, so I can count all my ribs It’s possible, and in general I have anemia.
I laughed. I don’t have any anemia, because the word itself means that there should be little blood, but I had enough of it. That's when I stepped on this summer bottle glass, it gushed out as if from a water tap. All this is nonsense - my mother’s worries, and if we talk about my shortcomings, then I could admit that there is something wrong with my ears - I often heard in them some kind of additional, in addition to the sounds of life, a slight ringing, really , my head was lighter and I seemed to think even better, but I was silent about it, I didn’t tell my mother, otherwise he’d come up with some other stupid disease, like hearing loss, ha-ha-ha!
But this is all nonsense on vegetable oil!
The main thing was that the feeling of insatiability did not leave me. It seems like we've eaten in the evening, but our eyes still see something delicious - some plump sausage with rounds of lard, or, even worse, a thin piece of ham with a teardrop of some moist deliciousness, or a pie that smells ripe apples. Well, it’s not for nothing that there is a saying about insatiable eyes. Maybe in general there is some kind of impudence in the eyes - the stomach is full, but the eyes are still asking for something.