Baby letter wartime Bashny.Net

March, 12, Liozno, 1943.
Dear, kind papa!

I write you a letter from the German captivity. When you, papa, you will read this letter, I would not be alive. And my request to you, Father: punish German bloodsuckers. This is your last will and testament of a dying daughter.

A few words about his mother. When you come back, do not look for my mother. Her shot by the Germans. When tried to find out about you, the officer hit her in the face with a whip. Mom could not stand, and said proudly: "You do not frighten me beating. I'm sure my husband would come back and throw you dastardly invaders out of here. " And the officer shot her mother in the mouth ...



Papa, I'm now 15 years old, and if today you met me, you would not recognize her daughter. I became very thin, my eyes were sunken, my braids shorn heads, hands dry, makes Volvo's rake. When I cough, blood comes out of his mouth - I have beaten off light.

And remember, Dad, two years ago, when I was 13 years old? What good was my birthday party! I like you, Dad, then said: "Growing up, my daughter, the joy of a big one!" He played the gramophone, friends congratulated me with my birthday, and we were singing our favorite song pioneer ...
And now, Father, we look at yourself in the mirror - Dress torn in shreds, the number on the neck, like a criminal, very thin, like a skeleton - and salty tears flow from his eyes. What's the point that I was 15 years old. I do not need anyone. Here, many people are not wanted. Rove hungry, harried sheepdogs. Every day they take away and killed.

Yes, Dad, I'm a slave and a German baron, working at the German Sharlena laundress, wash clothes, my floors. I work a lot, and I eat twice a day, in a trough with the "Rosa" and "Clara" - the so-called master's pigs. So I ordered Baron. "Russ was and will be a pig," - he said.

I am very afraid of "Clara". This is a big and greedy pig. She told me once almost bit off a finger when I got out of the trough potatoes.

I live in the woodshed: in kolshatu I can not go. Once the maid polka Jozef gave me a piece of bread, and the hostess saw and a long beat Jozef whip on the head and back.
Twice I ran away from the home, but I found theirs janitor. Then he tore off my Baron dress and kicked. I lost consciousness. Then me and poured a bucket of water thrown into the basement.
Today I learned the news: Jozef said that the Lord went to Germany with a large party of slaves and slaves to the Vitebsk region. Now they're taking me with him. No, I will not go into this thrice cursed by all Germany! I decided better to die at home storonushke than being trampled in the cursed German soil. Only death will save me from the brutal beating.
Do not want to suffer from the damned slave, cruel Germans did not give me to live! ..
I will, Dad: avenge my mother and me. Goodbye, good papa, I'm going to die.

Your daughter Katya Susanin ...

My heart believes: a letter comes.

Soon after the release of the Belarusian city Liozno in 1944 when parsing shattered masonry stove in one of the houses was found a little yellow envelope stitched thread. It turned out to be an Belarusian girl Katie Susanin, gave in to Hitler's slavery to the landlord. Desperate, the day of his 15th birthday, she decided to commit suicide.
Before his death, he wrote a last letter to his father. On the envelope was the address:
"The current army. Field Post № ... Susanin Peter. " On the other side of the pencil written the words: "Dear uncle or aunt who find it hidden from the Germans a letter, I beg you, just drop into a mailbox. My corpse is already hanging on the rope. "

Number APO written on the envelope, obsolete, and the letter could not get sent, but it came to the heart of the Soviet people!