Population n chor. The history of the village chorus in the poetic work of my countrymen

choir- an urban-type settlement in the area named after Lazo Khabarovsk Territory. It is located 79 km south of and 12 km south-west of the regional center of the urban-type settlement, on the right bank of the river. Khor (right tributary of the Ussuri River). Population - 9.8 thousand people. (2016).

Chorus history

It was founded in 1897 in the Kozlovsky village district as a settlement. Khorsky by Don and Transbaikal Cossacks (15 families of Don Cossacks moved). The name of the village comes from the Chorus. According to the most common version, in translation from the Udygei “khor” is the devil, the devil (it is believed that the river is named so because of its unpredictability and danger; in summer period floods are frequent as a result of heavy rains). By 1900 in the village. About 30 families lived in Khorsky. In 1913 the settlement Khorsky was part of the Glenovsky stanitsa district. In 1938, the village of Khor was classified as a workers' settlement.

Hora's development was associated with timber processing, thanks to which, in Soviet time the locality was important industrial center. Back in 1906, the Cossacks decided to lease two adjacent land plots to the Likhaydov, Klovbutsky and Co. partnership for the construction of a sawmill and a flour mill. In 1912, the sawmill went to prominent Vladivostok merchants, brothers Vladislav Iosifovich and Eduard Iosifovich Sinkevich. Subsequently, this enterprise turned into Sawmill No. 6, which in 1968 was renamed the Khor woodworking plant. In Chora, biochemical, hydrolysis and brick factories also functioned.

Coordinates

Railway station on the line Khabarovsk - Vladivostok.

Story

Before the revolution there were only elementary School and a temple consecrated in honor of St. Nicholas, Mir Lycian miracle worker. The status of an urban-type settlement has been since 1938.

Population

Population
1959	1970	1979	1989	2002	2009	2010
11 041	↗ 11 304	↗ 11 484	↗ 13 227	↘ 11 850	↘ 11 233	↘ 10 346
2011	2012	2013	2014	2015	2016
↗ 10 349	↘ 10 145	↘ 10 090	↘ 10 065	↘ 9920	↘ 9817

Economy

During the Soviet Union, a woodworking plant, biochemical, brick and hydrolysis plants operated in the village. In 2008, a large woodworking complex was built but never commissioned.

People associated with the village

The famous biathlete Sergei Chepikov was born in the village.

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Notes

www.gks.ru/free_doc/doc_2016/bul_dr/mun_obr2016.rar Population Russian Federation by municipalities as of January 1, 2016
(Russian). Demoscope Weekly. Retrieved September 25, 2013. .
(Russian). Demoscope Weekly. Retrieved September 25, 2013. .
(Russian). Demoscope Weekly. Retrieved September 25, 2013. .
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. Retrieved 2 January 2014. .
. Retrieved April 5, 2016. .
. Retrieved March 26, 2014. .
. Retrieved April 3, 2015. .
. Retrieved November 16, 2013. .
. Retrieved 2 August 2014. .
. Retrieved August 6, 2015. .
. REGNUM (February 1, 2008). Retrieved August 14, 2010. .

Sources

Khabarovsk Territory - How many miles?
“From where and to where, Your Majesty?”
– From Dürenstein to Krems?
“Three and a half miles, Your Majesty.
Did the French leave the left bank?
- As the scouts reported, the last ones crossed on rafts at night.
– Is there enough forage in Krems?
- The forage was not delivered in that quantity ...
The emperor interrupted him.
“At what time was General Schmit killed?”
“Seven o’clock, I think.
- At 7:00. Very sad! Very sad!
The emperor said that he was grateful and bowed. Prince Andrei went out and was immediately surrounded on all sides by courtiers. Tender eyes looked at him from all sides and heard sweet words. Yesterday's adjutant wing reproached him for not stopping at the palace, and offered him his house. The Minister of War approached him, congratulating him on the Order of Maria Theresa of the 3rd degree, which the Emperor had bestowed upon him. The chamberlain of the empress invited him to her majesty. The Archduchess also wanted to see him. He did not know whom to answer, and for a few seconds he collected his thoughts. The Russian envoy took him by the shoulder, led him to the window and began to talk to him.
Contrary to the words of Bilibin, the news brought by him was received joyfully. A thanksgiving service was scheduled. Kutuzov was awarded by Maria Theresa big cross and the entire army received awards. Bolkonsky received invitations from all sides and had to make visits to the main dignitaries of Austria all morning. Having finished his visits at five o'clock in the evening, mentally composing a letter to his father about the battle and about his trip to Brunn, Prince Andrei returned home to Bilibin. At the porch of the house occupied by Bilibin, there was a britzka half-stowed with things, and Franz, Bilibin's servant, dragging the suitcase with difficulty, went out of the door.
Before going to Bilibin, Prince Andrei went to a bookstore to stock up on books for the campaign and sat up in the shop.
- What? Bolkonsky asked.
- Ah, Erlaucht? said Franz, heaving the suitcase into the britzka with difficulty. – Wir ziehen noch weiter. Der Bosewicht ist schon wieder hinter uns her! [Ah, Your Excellency! We're going even further. The villain is on our heels again.]
- What? What? asked Prince Andrew.
Bilibin went out to meet Bolkonsky. There was excitement on Bilibin's always calm face.
- Non, non, avouez que c "est charmant," he said, "cette histoire du pont de Thabor (bridge in Vienna). Ils l" ont passe sans coup ferir. [No, no, admit that this is a charm, this story with the Taborsky bridge. They crossed it without resistance.]
Prince Andrew did not understand anything.
“But where are you from that you don’t know what all the coachmen in the city already know?”
“I'm from the Archduchess. I didn't hear anything there.
“And didn’t you see that they were stacked everywhere?”
- I didn’t see ... But what’s the matter? Prince Andrew asked impatiently.
- What's the matter? The fact is that the French have crossed the bridge that is defended by Auesperg, and the bridge has not been blown up, so Murat is now running along the road to Brunn, and today they will be here tomorrow.
- Like here? Why didn't they blow up the bridge when it was mined?
- And I'm asking you. Nobody, not even Bonaparte himself, knows this.
Bolkonsky shrugged.
“But if the bridge is crossed, then the army is dead: it will be cut off,” he said.
"That's the point," answered Bilibin. - Listen. The French are entering Vienna, as I told you. Everything is very good. The next day, that is, yesterday, gentlemen marshals: Murat Lannes and Belliard, sit on horseback and set off for the bridge. (Note that all three are Gascons.) Gentlemen, one says, you know that the Taborsky bridge is mined and contramined, and that in front of him is a formidable tete de pont and fifteen thousand troops who were ordered to blow up the bridge and not let us in. But our sovereign Emperor Napoleon will be pleased if we take this bridge. Let's go three of us and take this bridge. - Let's go, others say; and they set off and take the bridge, cross it, and now, with the whole army on this side of the Danube, they are heading for us, for you, and for your messages.

Dimka Bezverkhy sobbed softly and sucked in the air noisily. The air was damp and heavy, like a wet duvet. Damn, there was still not enough nurse to dissolve. Although it's a shame, of course, there are no words. He's already fifteen and his grandfather treats him like a brat. In front of everyone.

Dimka, along with his grandfather and thirty other men, was in a self-defense detachment sent by the district commandant, Lieutenant Colonel Prishvin, here, south of the village of Khor. Away from the front.

The reasons for this, Dimka were not known, but he was very hurt. As befits a fifteen-year-old boy, he was a maximalist and a patriot to the last cell of his body. And if there is a war and the enemy, vile and cruel, broke into your house - that place of a real man - on the front line. At least this is how Dimka was brought up by his father and grandfather ... In the nearest plans, there was an admission to military school, but before that it was necessary to survive.

Before snot, Dimka was insulted by his own grandfather, a retired major of the criminal investigation department Fedor Privalov. Firstly, he publicly called him a jerk, and secondly, he gave him, again, a public slap on the back of the head, because Dimka snapped in response. Grandfather's hand was heavy, and Dimon, to the laughter of the peasants, flew forward, like a pendulous bear. It's great, having kissed when falling on a protruding root.

Barely holding back tears, he rushed into the forest, hearing in the back, the mocking voice of his grandfather.

First, learn to wash the bowler hat and keep the weapon in order, and then open your mouth.

Grandfather was right, of course, but it was impossible to endure public humiliation. Having run two kilometers from the camp through the taiga, Bezverkhy sat down under a huge, sprawling spruce and tried to calm down. It was getting dark quickly, the sounds filling the taiga were slowly subsiding, but Dimka was in no hurry to return. He was not afraid of getting lost, after all, from the age of six, he stomped around the taiga with his grandfather. Mother and father were only for it, even better in the taiga than with punks on the stairs of the platform, littering with seed husks and gobies. I wonder where they are now?

Father, Bezverchiy senior, served, like his grandfather, in the police. Only not in the village department, but in Khabarovsk itself. Already a lieutenant colonel of the UBOP. He was sent to his grandfather back in June, with the beginning of the holidays, so that he would not hang under his feet. With the outbreak of the war, he could no longer get through to his parents.

The Chinese covered Choir, in the very first hour of the war with a shaft of fire from the receiver and rocket artillery. It was extremely scary… But also extremely beautiful… Fireballs, dotted lines and arrows mixed in the night sky, creating an indescribable picture. A picture of death and destruction.

The most valuable thing in Hora, in addition to the brand new woodworking plant built by the ubiquitous Selena Corporation, was three bridges, two automobile and one railway. Surprisingly even, but the Chinese did not destroy them, despite the hurricane shelling. It was along these bridges, to the west, that the 5th Guards Corps transferred its forces after repulsing the Chinese offensive in the Khasan and Bikin directions.

The population left Khor, a day before the start of the war. A motorized battalion of the rescue service entered the city and intelligibly explained local residents about them future fate in case of Chinese shelling. Women, children and the elderly, under the supervision of rescuers, departed towards Komsomolsk-on-Amur, where the central evacuation camp in the Far East was located.

Dimka was vouched for by his grandfather, after all, not the last person in the local area, the former head of the UGRO and the current police officer. He said that without relatives, the kid would disappear in an instant. And he even wrote, to a twitchy fat official from the village administration, a receipt where he took responsibility for his grandson, in case of emergency. The official, having received the paper, breathed a sigh of relief.

Fyodor Kuzmich is with you, the grandson will not be lost. She said, hiding the receipt in a tattered folder.

With grandfather, indeed, it was impossible to abyss. Growing up in a family of Old Believers, it was from there that he had such an archaic name and patronymic, who spent all his childhood and youth in the taiga, working from the age of fifteen in a fishing artel, after the army he graduated from the Omsk police school and returned to serve his native land, his grandfather did not abandon hunting and fishing. In addition to animals, he began to hunt criminals, whom he hated with all his guts. It was upbringing. There was no more honest and principled policeman in the area than his grandfather. Slowly but surely, he made a career, remaining honest even in the wild post-Soviet years. The peak of his career was the position of head of the ESD of the Department of Internal Affairs and the shoulder straps of a major twenty years later impeccable service. For his prickly and implacable character, his grandfather received a nickname from his colleagues - Ruff, which he fully justified. As soon as he retired, he formed a hunting and gathering artel from local non-drinking peasants, engaged in private crafts in which he succeeded. When the power in Moscow changed, and it was allowed to choose local police officers who monitor public order, there were no competitors in the village of Khor and the surrounding area for my grandfather. For six years now, Ersh has been invariably in charge of OMOB. They tried to run into him, tried to buy, but it all ended in the same thing - the ill-wishers retreated, often they had to be taken out. The hand, like the character of the grandfather, remained heavy, blows to the jaw were irresistible.

Dimka knew this, knew how everyone around him respected his grandfather and was secretly proud of him. Growing up in the millionth Khabarovsk, among the modern "predatory things of the century" in prosperous family, he instinctively reached out to the stern, taciturn and tough grandfather, seeing inside him the core that distinguishes a real man, a miner from a masculine "cloud in his pants." Grandfather was widowed early (grandmother, Dimka did not remember, died before his birth), but women always revolved around him, and much younger than him, with an admiring gleam in their eyes. Even his father, a lieutenant colonel of the regional UBOP, never dared to argue with him if they met with him at family holidays. And most importantly - Dimka liked his grandfather, that he never wiped his snot, never lisped and indulged real male interests. If you want to shoot, please, just learn how to disassemble and clean the carbine. If you want to walk in the taiga - as much as you like, just study the compass and learn to navigate and look under your feet. Once, five years ago, Dimka got lost and almost died while escaping from a young bear. Grandfather found him shaking with fear on a tree, brought him home, gave him tea with herbs and put him to bed. And in the morning, he flogged with a soldier's belt with a heavy buckle - flogged and sentenced "look under your feet, learn a compass, look under your feet"

The lesson turned out to be useful, and by the age of fifteen, Dimka Bezverkhy knew how to read tracks, listen to the taiga, smell and hear the beast a kilometer away, lurk in the thickets, eat what the taiga gives and shoot ten times better than many Internet inmates who seriously consider themselves "survivors". Returning to school after the holidays, he showed his classmates real hunting trophies, catching admiring and envious glances. There was another reason for this, despite the average height and average build, Dimka was extremely mobile and flexible, as if twisted from steel wire. Even notorious hooligans from older classes were afraid to contact him. There were rumors that this was due to the father's cool connections, but this was not the case. It's just that Dimka also had a severe, not at all teenage blow.

Wiping his face, Dimka sobbed again, but more quietly.

"Damn, I'm acting like a hysteric," he scolded himself, already about to get up and return to the camp. And to apologize to the grandfather and the others for their stupid behavior. Unpleasant, of course - but necessary. he is a man. And admitting your mistakes is the lot of real men, as his grandfather taught him. Suddenly Dimka sat down and became alert.

Sound. The sound, alien to the taiga, riveted his attention. Quiet growling, no rattling. Somewhere overhead.

“It doesn't look like a helicopter. Maybe a drone? The question is whose? Dimka thought as he listened anxiously. He already knew what danger to people the reconnaissance drones hovering in the sky posed. Following them, usually came - death. Death is sudden and swift. In the form of Chinese artillery shells and missiles flying from the sky. A second ago - you were alive, then bang and what's left of you is put in a plastic bag.

However, the sound did not come closer, it sounded somewhere far away, then completely - it began to subside. Dimka jumped to his feet, but something stopped him from returning to the camp. New noise. Atypical rustling, somewhere overhead.

A rustle, quiet but distinct, approached with every second, then a black shadow flashed overhead, on a piece of sky, surrounded like a palisade, by gigantic pines. Then another one, another .... Dimka felt cold inside. Like the Nazguls from stupid fantasy tales, they came to the Far Eastern taiga, for their prey.

Lieutenant Jiang Tong of separate regiment special purpose"Sharp Sword blue sky", moved the lines of the parachute system, catching the air flow. The night vision device, copied one to one from the last German analogue, helpfully showed a wide clearing, stretching like a scar in the body of the Russian taiga. A jump in complete darkness, in a forested area, what could be worse?

The bridges over the Khor River were a real bone in the throat of the PLA command. It is not clear how, but despite the constant rocket and artillery strikes, it was not possible to destroy them. The reasons for this are now being analyzed by a special commission that arrived from Beijing, headed by Major General Gun Lun. The main thing is that the Russian high command still had the opportunity to transfer troops from east to west and back.

Already twice to undermine bridges, "yes blow" were sent, both from the "Sword of the East" and from the "shock amphibious assault" - with negative result. If it was known about the “sword-bearers” that they ran into Russian militias after five days of exhausting throw across the taiga and died in battle, under mortar fire, then nothing is known about the fate of the naval saboteurs who tried to get to the objects along the river.

The company of paratroopers - scouts, where Jiang served, was withdrawn from the Turkestan front only four days ago. Before that, Lieutenant Tun managed to take part in the capture of the three capitals of Bishkek, Alma-Ata and Tashkent in less than a month as part of the 15th Airborne Corps. They fell on lazy, fat and sleepy cities like a flock of birds of prey, justifying their loud name- "sharp sword of the blue sky" without mercy chopping enemy heads.

Colonel Fei, inviting him, Tong and the company commander, Captain Li Nan, to sit down, treated them to tea, and reported on the extremely difficult situation on the eastern and northern borders of the Celestial Empire.

The Russians turned out to be much stronger than previously thought. To be more precise, the General Staff of the People's Liberation Army and the political leadership of the People's Republic of China did not expect Russia's entry into the war at all. It was believed that enough with them and western front. in Siberia and Far East in general, forces incomparable with the power of the PLA remained. But the Kremlin judged differently and, having pulled all the aircraft from the western front, inflicted crushing blow airfields and naval bases. To put it bluntly, they were taken by surprise. Most of the Chinese Air Force aircraft were either on the runways at the time of the strike or were returning from their first sorties. The air defense positions, carefully built by the PLA over the past twenty years, were swept away by a salvo of one and a half hundred air- and ground-based cruise missiles. Then "Tu", "MiG" and "Dry" rushed into the gaps ... First of all, they hit those air bases where the latest aircraft were concentrated - J-10, Su-27, Su-30MKK, J-11. The old J-7 / J-8 and Q-5 were of little interest to them due to their limited combat capabilities.

Having seized air superiority with one blow, the Russians began to methodically hit the Chinese economy, destroying primarily energy facilities and military production. The People's Liberation Army, quickly recovering from the first shock, tried to take revenge for the missed blow, with a successful offensive on land, invading Russian territory in four directions at once. In addition to Primorsky, where the offensive bogged down immediately, operational and tactical successes were achieved in other directions - Khabarovsk, Blagoveshchensk and Chita. But then, using internal communications, the Russians created a mobile group of three tank brigades, which they began to use as a fist, crushing the PLA bridgeheads formed on their territory in turn. In sequence. Particularly unpleasant was the defeat near Belogorsk, where three elite divisions PLA equipped the latest technology. having no real combat experience, the PLA generals pulled up reserves too slowly, prepared for too long to develop further success from the captured bridgeheads. Now, on that Russian bank of the Amur, the PLA has only Khabarovsk left. A completely destroyed metropolis, almost swept away by shelling and fires from the face of the earth. The Russians were in no hurry to beat him back, saving their strength.

In Turkestan, not everything went smoothly either. The Islamists raised their heads and a wave of rebellion swept over, in addition to Central Asia, also the western outskirts of the Celestial Empire. The army and paramilitary police crushed the rebellion with redoubled cruelty, but now, the Islamists were actively supplied with weapons from abroad. First of all, the Pakistanis former allies stabbed in the back at the crucial moment. Creatures…

Comrades! Colonel Fay solemnly began when the officers took a sip of the strongest tea from the cups. Your first special purpose parachute reconnaissance company has been given the honor to carry out a particularly important government task. Find out more in Beijing. The plane is ready. Good luck..

They were delivered to the capital by a heavy Il-76, bought from the Russians twenty years ago. Despite the efforts of the domestic aviation industry, China has not yet been able to create its own transport aircraft of this level.

The capital greeted them with fetid smog, interceptors loitering in the sky, police patrols with armored vehicles at intersections and twitchy officers from the headquarters of the Air Force. As it turned out upon arrival, there were serious unrest in the southern provinces. They say in Shanghai that even the local CCP branch and the police department were attacked. There are rumors about Kuomintang spies… A mess in short…

Barely touching the concrete slabs of the Beijing airfield, Captain Nan and Lieutenant Tong were picked up by a spotted jeep, which delivered them to the Air Force Headquarters with a breeze. An unhealthy, nervous atmosphere reigned at the headquarters. Both officers, who had just arrived from the front line, were stupidly put on chairs in the corridor and forgotten for a couple of hours.

In the end, a fat, short-breathing, lackey-looking major ran up to them.

Why are you sitting here!? He yelled. General Tsun has been waiting for you for half an hour, idiots! Yes, faster! Almost with kicks, the major drove them to the top floor.

The major himself remained in the hallway, letting them into an inconspicuous office without a sign.

There, rippling in the eyes from shoulder straps with big stars, it was hard to breathe because of the poorly working air conditioner.

Major General Li Cong, Air Force intelligence chief, a burly southerner who had begun his career in the paratroopers, stood in front of a huge flat screen with his hands folded behind his back.

Turning his head sharply, he called the officers who had entered.

And, here are the comrades, they came to us directly from the front line. What can you say about this object? How to get close to him?

The picture on the screen was replaced by a high-resolution photograph. Looks like it was taken from a satellite. Three bridges, around the forest and a small town. Maybe even a village.

Air attack and rocket attacks, please do not offer. Here - a whole division of Russian ZRPK "Pantsir" a little further - the battery of "Thor". Artillery practically smashed the village, but can not reach either the bridge or the camouflaged air defense positions.

Special Forces, Comrade General. answered, stretching out like a string, Nan.

There's a security battalion, captain. And the anti-sabotage company of special forces ... Two groups were sent ... One died, the other disappeared. Most likely, she also died. And so, comrade officers, what is your opinion, as reconnaissance paratroopers?

The general glanced quickly at his watch.

Is two hours enough for you?

Yes sir! Nan and Tong barked, already realizing that it was too late to retreat.

We sat, pondered ... And finally gave birth, as it seemed to the original idea. On your head. Get to the Russians from the back door. The aviators, having familiarized themselves with the original plan, clung to it like dogs to a bone.

So Y-5? Why exactly on it?

If at a low altitude, then it is hardly noticeable. In addition, ease of control ... Moreover, the speed is not high - air defense primarily reacts to high-speed targets, as priority ones in terms of danger.

Maybe helicopters?

No. They are very noisy. They are easily spotted by ground posts monitoring the air situation. The risk of running into opposition from air defense systems or small-caliber anti-aircraft guns is very high.

The plan was dangerous, but audacious. Three light transport Y-5s, without crossing the actual state border, delivered them to the drop site. Then, the whatnots sharply gained height and threw out troops. Using wing parachutes, they needed to glide through the night sky no more than twenty kilometers. Russian air defense operators, busy hunting for high-speed targets, are unlikely to turn Special attention on slow objects that do not look like fighters, bombers, or even transporters ...

And then ... let's hope for a fair wind. We are the elite of the 15th Airborne Corps and all the armed forces of the PRC, damn it! What is twenty kilometers for us? Especially on this southbound the Russians don't have any serious forces at all. They do not expect a blow in the back, from their territory. Maybe a couple dozen militias not drying out from drinking.

The landing point was an abandoned forest clearing, ten kilometers south of the main object.

Don't get into a fight! General ordered. Your first priority is to bring artillery to the bridges. A couple of good, accurate volleys of MLRS or howitzers - and the land artery connecting Primorye with the rest of Russian territory will be cut.

This is understandable, but it's better to play it safe, especially when it comes to Russians. Therefore, all three old Y-5s were packed to capacity with paratroopers. Eleven people each. In addition to paratroopers with small arms, each RDG had two snipers, two sappers and one machine gunner. All night vision devices, and devices for silent and flameless shooting.

Here is the land! Damn, there are stumps all around, some snags. Gritting his teeth, and swearing to himself, Jiang Tun, feverishly tried to extinguish the speed of the parachute, just over a more or less suitable place for landing, where it was possible not to break his neck ...

"Saboteurs, fuck or ninja!" Dimka understood when, raising his head and looking to the left, he saw people rushing to the ground on strange parachutes. People came in for landing, on the old clearing, boldly landing at night, where all the bones could be broken even during the day.

According to the thought of a fifteen-year-old boy, who is now pressing himself into the trunk of a huge, wet spruce that smells of needles - normal people so they won't jump. So, for sure, ninjas ... The fact that the mythical ninjas are Japanese, not Chinese, did not interest him now.

He was shaking with fear and excitement, he had never seen living enemies, so close. Two hundred - three hundred steps. The air around was immediately filled with an alien, not taiga smell and the same alien sounds. There was a smell of metal, plastic, some other chemical rubbish, human sweat and fear… Something clanked and rustled softly.

One by one, reconnaissance paratroopers landed on the clearing, extinguished their parachutes and instantly took up positions along the perimeter of the landing zone, putting forward the barrels of assault rifles with thickened mufflers.

Jiang Tong sat down and looked around sharply, barely throwing off the suspension system and satchel from his back. The night vision device gave a fairly clear picture, everything was quiet. Only nearby, tangled in slings, a soldier from their company snorted irritably.

Quiet! Whispered Tun and the soldier, froze like a statue. Once again, leisurely, Jiang examined dark forest, approaching the clearing from two sides. Something he did not like ... What was hidden there. Dangerous.

When the captain's hand touched him behind the shoulder, the lieutenant almost cried out in surprise.

What are you? Nan asked, carefully examining the subordinate.

Don't know. Toon replied with a shake of his head. Seemingly, something. Nerves, probably.

Where exactly does it appear? Captain Nan had served in intelligence for several days and knew what a timely danger was. Every little thing is critical here.

Nowhere, Commander. More precisely, everywhere.

Clear. The captain patted Jiang reassuringly on the back. Treat your nerves while you're young. Do you have all the people?

Two legs were injured. Yan and Zhang. No fractures, can walk, just bruises..

Fine. Here in the first group, the sniper, Sergeant May, sprained his leg. It seems that the bone is intact, but it is limping great.

Jiang nodded. Mei is an excellent shooter, the best in the company, maybe in the entire regiment. What a bad start it all started.

Listen to orders, Lieutenant Toon. You will lead the rear guard, the cover group. Take May, although he is crippled, he walks inaudibly. Four more, no - five fighters. We will follow the trail - you go in a chain. Stay five hundred meters away from us...and look around. I don't like it here either, it's kinda quiet...

Tun's group, having let the main detachment go forward, silently crept behind, stopping and listening, every hundred steps. Sergeant May walked slowly, his face twisted, but he silently endured the pain in his leg, the joint of which was set in the field by putting a pinch of painkillers in his mouth. Nothing, lame. And this was not something that had to be endured during maneuvers.

Dimka observed that the paratroopers, hastily throwing deadwood over their parachutes, split into two groups and disappeared into the forest. The third group, where there was a severely limping soldier, moved forward, later stretching out in a chain.

Those walking in a chain stopped, listening and sniffing for a long time, but they could not notice Dimka. For two weeks spent in the forest, he practically did not differ in smell from environment. The Chinese who arrived from Turkestan, with all their desire, smelled differently. Their nostrils were still clogged with the smell of mountains and sun-scorched semi-deserts of Central Asia.

“What to do? I'll make a noise, they'll slam it right away. I won’t lift it, they’ll kill my grandfather and the peasants, ”Bezverkhy thought, watching the sneaking Chinese.

Suddenly Dimka realized that if he fired and made a fuss, it would all be over. Everything. There will be death and eternal, hopeless darkness. He lowered the SKS carbine and leaned it against the spruce trunk and sat down himself on a soft cushion of wet pine needles.

Fear squeezed his throat, paralyzed his will. I wanted to live, I really wanted to live in my incomplete sixteen.

They say that at such moments, the whole life flashes before your eyes ... What could flash in fifteen years? Warm hands of a mother, the first trip to the warm sea, the first tricycle, the first clumsy and naive love poems downloaded from the Internet and read at the birthday party of Lariska Ksenofontova, the most beautiful girl in the class, with piercing blue eyes and an upturned nose. And her return kiss, also the first.

Dimka almost screamed in despair. Then, he understood. If he gets cold feet, they will first kill his grandfather and the militia, then someone else, then his father and mother, Lariska, all his friends, relatives and friends ...

“You are a man, Dimka. And a man is distinguished from a “cloud in his pants” by responsibility. For the family, for the wife, for the children, for the country, finally .... " The words of my grandfather surfaced in my memory ..

Wiping away the oncoming tears, Dimka sat down on one knee and clenched his teeth, smoothly, as his grandfather taught, began on the trigger, aiming at the far left, receding figure.

A shot rang deafeningly in the night forest ... Despite the previous target (he knew that he had hit it), Dimka transferred fire to the rest of the paratroopers, aiming at vague, blurry contours.

He managed to fire twice more before a QBZ-95 bullet hit the bridge of his nose, knocking him back.

Fyodor Kuzmich Privalov was sitting cross-legged in a sleeping bag with his eyes closed. He did not sleep, waiting for his grandson to return. He has hot blood, all in the grandmother, the kingdom of heaven to her. And in the mother, too ... No, to go to the grandfather. Grandfather in the depths of his soul regretted that he had insulted and hit his grandson in front of the militia. Although he deserved it, he had to do it alone. As a family, or something ...

Of course, the kid will be back soon. This has happened more than once. He flares up, runs away, returns ... He knows and loves Taiga - nothing will happen to him ...

Three whip-like shots made him instantly jump up and grab his "Tiger" with optics. Heart thumped painfully. This is grandchildren's carbine! You can't confuse its sound with anything else!

One by one, as if on cue, the sleeping militias woke up. After all, they go hunting in the taiga for a long time, their hearing is honed. Now there is no need to talk, we need to act

With signs and gestures, like a mute, Privalov explained the task to his deputy, Rudich and two sergeants Petrov and Chunikhin.

Nodding in agreement and splitting into pairs as one covered the other, the militias moved into the thicket, dressed in shaggy, hunting camouflage. Like goblin from fairy tales ... We moved north, towards the clearing, where Dimkin's carbine fired.

Forty minutes later, the radio station at the commandant of the district received a signal about the discovery of a sabotage group of more than twenty people.

The fierce battle that began in the forest was broken in favor of the Russians by the mortars of the internal troops, which were transferred to the aid of the militias along with a company of Vovans and bombarded the discovered Chinese with a hail of 82 mm mines.

The Chinese called their artillery and one of the first shells fired from Chinese territory landed right in the center of their location, killing Captain Nan and three other fighters on the spot. No, shooting at maximum range is still a big problem for the PLA

Realizing that they were gradually being surrounded, incomprehensible from nowhere, people who looked like shaggy demons who attacked them on the march from the thicket and stopped their advance, Lieutenant Jiang Tun, ordered to break through using the fire of his own artillery as a cover.

He had already managed to make war, and his inner instinct suggested that they would not be released alive just like that. These shaggy demons know the area very well ... They will hang on their tail, go around through the swamp and cut off the exit to the border. Gotta break through now...

Two days later, fourteen, dirty, exhausted fighters from the elite parachute reconnaissance regiment "Sharp Sword of the Blue Sky" returned to China, who for the first time did not fulfill the order and failed the task. Led them, wounded in the shoulder by a fragment of a Russian mine, Lieutenant Tun. He staggered, but he stubbornly led his people to salvation, bypassing ambushes and minefields that closed the entire border area.

The militias found Dima three days later, when they returned after an unsuccessful chase. Not far from him, less than three hundred meters from him, lay two unusually tall Chinese. Killed by shots to the head. But there was no one to mourn Dimka ...

His grandfather disappeared as if he had fallen through the ground while chasing the Chinese. Only the new commander of the detachment, Ilya Rudich, knew that Fedor, seeing the paratroopers and immediately realizing that his grandson was no longer alive, turned his black face to Rudich and whispered

Put everyone, one by one ... Everyone ...

When it became clear that the Chinese were breaking into their territory anyway and it was no longer possible to catch up with them, Privalov disappeared.

General Li Cong, demanded from his guarantor to find out from the surviving paratroopers the details of the failed raid. The remnants of the detachment went to their own, to the location of the 22 motorized brigade of the PLA.

When they rest, in the morning, demand a full report on the failed special operation. Immediately! The general shouted, causing the envoy to flinch.

Li Cong was nervous. From the General Staff and the Air Force Headquarters they were already pressing, demanding an answer for another failure. A scapegoat was needed to take all the sin upon himself. More than a billion people in the state - there is no one to blow up one bridge! Cretins.

A couple of minutes later, the door to the study, upholstered in leather, quietly opened and a plump errand slipped through it like a snake, absolutely inaudibly. Stupid as a cork, but reliable.

Comrade Tsun... I contacted the headquarters of the 22nd brigade. And there…

Why, don’t mumble, son of a tree toad! The general raised his voice.

They died ... comrade general ..

How did they die?

Everyone died ... Lieutenant Tun, after the dressing, was going to be sent to the rear, and he went to his soldiers to say goodbye. In the dugout, which they were taken ... Here they were attacked. They threw grenades at the dugout.

What, right at the location of the brigade?

Yes sir. At night, about ten ...

What is this, special forces? The general didn't understand at all.

Maybe Comrade General. So far, one attacker has been identified. Oh tried to leave, but was wounded. Shot..

No. Only a corpse. He blew himself up with a grenade. No documents or anything. Only our QBZ-95 assault rifle with a silencer, probably a trophy and a hunting carbine with optics. He managed to shoot three more from the reconnaissance company from it.

Like this. The hero-mother sneaks right into the location of the PLA brigade, a loner attacks the special group that returned from the mission and kills it. Right at the location of the brigade! And he is still trying to go back, across the front line ... Our infantry does not catch mice at all.

The general swore dirty and demanded from the envoy to get the hell out.

OMOB - Department of Public Security Militia. In this reality, the law enforcement structure is subordinate local authorities authorities. Combines the functions of the teaching staff and the district police department. AT major cities commonly referred to as the municipal militia.

"Sharp Sword of the Blue Sky" - special unit Airborne Forces of the People's Republic of China. An analogue of the 45th Guards Regiment of the Airborne Forces of Russia or the 22nd SAS Regiment of Great Britain. I had to give the Russian name, in the Chinese version it is impossible to pronounce. You have to be Chinese...

"Da-dui" is the designation in the PLA of all special-purpose units.

Y-5 - Chinese copy of the Soviet An-2 light transport aircraft

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Ponkratenko Andrey Alekseevich

I was born and raised in the village of Khor. My house is located on the banks of the Khor River, on Pogranichnaya Street - this is the first street from which the history of the village began. The house in which my family lives was built by my great-great-grandfather Danil Yakovlevich Dudko, and the family can be attributed to the old-timers.

There are three schools in our village, and local history work is carried out in each school. A lot of material is collected and studied by interested schoolchildren about the history of the village. I also know a lot of facts about the history of my small Motherland.

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Municipal budgetary educational institution average comprehensive school No. 1 working settlement Khor municipal district named after Lazo Khabarovsk Territory

Research competition

"My Lazo District: Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow"

Regional local history conference "My Fatherland"

The history of the village of Khor poetry my countrymen

7th grade student MBOU secondary school No. 1 r.p. choir

Head: Ilyina Olga Viktorovna teacher of history and social studies MBOU secondary school No. 1 r.p. choir

r.p. Khor 2016.

When my teacher asked me to choose a topic research work, I thought that, apparently, I could not offer something new and interesting, and shared my doubts with the teacher. Olga Viktorovna suggested looking at history not only from the content side of facts, events and dates, but from the position of personal history individual person: his thoughts, experiences, hopes and expectations. Thus, I plunged into the world of poetry of my countrymen.

The hypothesis of my research was that the events taking place around us do not pass without a trace. They leave an imprint on the life and destiny of a person, influence his thoughts, moods and actions. And if we are talking about a creative person, then on his creativity.

The purpose of the work: to recreate the history of the village through the individual vision of a person - a participant in events, a person - a creator.

The tasks became study of the history of the village of Khor and acquaintance with the works of local poets and communication with some of them.

In the works of local poets, I managed to find a description of several stages in the history of the Choir.

The first stage is the history of the settlement of the settlement. In the work of Lyudmila Ivanovna Baranova, the current head of the socio-cultural center of the village, these events were reflected in the poem

"Streets of my village"

The streets of my village -

Each is a legend and a mystery.

And probably most remember

Everything in their life was not smooth.

The settlers remember the first laughter,

Horses frightened neighing

How much joy everyone had

And hope alongside suffering.

The first barrack houses

And for the first time a plowed area,

First taiga winter

The first transcendental happiness.

First Ukrainian wedding

A ringing scythe in the dew,

The first good estate.

A stream of water runs from the mountains,

It's already leaked a lot.

The girl weaving the wreath

She has already become a grey-haired grandmother.

The streets have changed since then

Alleys, crossroads and yards,

Still remembers my village Khor,

How loudly the axes clattered.

Gradually grew and developed the village of Khor, but a difficult test for Soviet people became the Great Patriotic War. On the very first day of the war, dozens of volunteers came to the military registration and enlistment office of the district. Among the defenders of the motherland were my countrymen. Among them is Vladimir Dmitrievich Kulagin. Unfortunately, only one poem by Vladimir Dmitrievich remains. It's called"May 9". In this poem, we are not talking about the village, but we are interested in what trials, losses the military generation had to endure and what contribution these people made to the victory.

Very life-affirming poems are dedicated to the post-war period, when the Choir began to recover from the consequences of the war, began to expand industrial production, activated cultural life people looked to the future with hope.

In the work of Boris Konstantinovich Kuznetsov, this time was reflected in poems dedicated to the hydrolysis and biochemical plant, where the poet worked for many years.

Here once upon a time in the steppe

Only free winds walked,

But the village rose

And a handsome plant grew up.

Here in the factory shops

We met good friends.

Who has not met yet -

Will definitely find it soon!

Noise and we

Young birches and maples

And again I am in the spring

I will repeat your name.

And when you're gone

I will think of you lovingly

Who has not met love -

Be sure to meet her!

How close we are now

Our failures and joys.

And call us forward

Five-year plans and years of milestones ...

Love this land

Do everything around better and more beautiful

And to your work

Be sure to put your soul into it.

With the beginning of perestroika and the collapse Soviet Union there have been significant changes in economic life. The guaranteed sales market for products disappeared, the economy was gripped by a crisis. Negative phenomena in the economy have affected the overall decline in the population, the growth of social contradictions and problems in society. The change in the tone of the work of the same author Boris Kuznetsov in the poem of the post-perestroika period is noteworthy.

We live like all people and toil,

And our place is not a resort,

And it's called Horus

And Horus is just a devil.

Staring at the world with surprise

Let's go back or forward

Khorskaya industry is collapsing,

Commerce is flourishing.

Everything is as in vaunted America:

Crime, and bribery, and flattery,

And swearing, and drunken tantrums,

And there is a chorus mafia.

Here pipes are smoked over boiler rooms,

And this smoke eats lungs.

Drink alcohol - it is a true salvation,

You will be healthy and warm.

And if you want snacks -

Sausage is at your service.

And it's all good for a minute

Not life, but sheer beauty.

We live like all people try,

Our place is not a resort.

And it's called Horus

And Horus is just a devil.

The older generation of my countrymen had to endure the difficult times of perestroika. But their talent, diligence, creative potential leave us hope for the best. This hope illuminated a poem by Olga Anatolyevna Kazakova dedicated to the 115th anniversary of the village of Khor. These verses are not only full of admiration for our predecessors, their diligence and accomplishments, they also convey confidence in the possibility of reviving the village.

From the far eastern rocky mountains

A talkative and fast chorus flows.

For some, he may be unsightly.

And for me the best and cleanest.

Frontier Street stretches along the shore,

And together with me he admires the Choir.

From this street my Chorus began.

It was built, it grew, it got stronger, it developed.

Factories smoked and people were born,

Dreamed, worked and smiled.

They loved, of course, and believed sacredly,

That life will get better and be rich

See the village in the radiant waters,

He will not be touched by troubles, anxieties, adversities,

What will grow, green and work,

That he can turn into the city of Lazovsk.

But it did not turn out the way the village dreamed of,

But still hope remained with the Choirs,

We believe that children will be born here,

And they will be able, having appeared in the world,

Do not leave the village, leave and return,

So that in new life dive with him.

Children here to give birth, raise and achieve,

So that they all want to drink that water,

Which their ancestors drank, their grandfathers,

When the taiga and victories were uprooted

They kept everything. Didn't leave, didn't bend

They did not dare and did not return.

They left us their native land,

So beloved and dear.

At least a little winter has passed here, and years,

And we, saving her from all troubles,

Let's celebrate the birth of the village today,

And although 115 is not so much,

But we believe, a big road awaits us

After analyzing the poems of the Choir poets, I concluded that our hypothesis is correct: the events taking place around us do not pass without a trace. But this is not all that I learned in the course of studying the materials for my work: before, I could not even think about how many interesting, talented people there are in our village. These people, outwardly no different from others, have a rich inner world. Their poems, in which there is nothing far-fetched, captivate with a sincere, sincere intonation. Behind the reflections of the poets is their time. And not only them, but also my contemporaries.

During the collection of materials, I studied a lot of literature, tried to restore some dates and facts, talking with different people- eyewitnesses of those events that are described in the work.

I would like to express my special thanks to the staff of the Socio-Cultural Center of the Khorsky Urban Settlement, Lyudmila Ivanovna Baranova and Olga Anatolyevna Kazakova, for providing materials and personal archives.

I want to end my speech with lines from a poem by our choir poetess Lyubov Pichugina, which also express my feelings for my native village:

Ay da Khor is neither a village nor a city.

He swung both in breadth and in length!

You know, you are truly dear to me,

If I look into my heart.