Ssuz in the village of Khor Khabar region. The history of the village of Khor in the poetic works of my fellow countrymen

Choir– an urban-type settlement in the Lazo area Khabarovsk Territory. Located 79 km south of and 12 km southwest 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).

History of Choir

Founded in 1897 in the Kozlovsky stanitsa district as a village. Khorsky Don and Transbaikal Cossacks (15 families resettled Don Cossacks). The name of the village comes from the river. Chorus. According to the most common version, translated from Udyghe “choir” means devil, devil (it is believed that the river was named so because of its unpredictability and danger; in summer period heavy rains often result in severe floods). By 1900 in the village. About 30 families lived in Khorskom. In 1913 Khorsky was part of the Glenovsky stanitsa district. In 1938, the village of Khor was classified as a workers' settlement.

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

Decision No. 45 of 07/26/2017 On amendments to the Rules for land use and development of the Khor urban settlement --> download link --> https://yadi.sk/i/d3DtcMl43M3zBy

Conclusion On the results of public hearings on the issue of amending the Rules for land use and development of the Khorsky urban settlement of the Lazo municipal district of the Khabarovsk Territory dated 07/19/2017

Minutes of public hearings on the issue of amending the Rules for land use and development of the Khorsky urban settlement of the Lazo municipal district of the Khabarovsk Territory dated 07/19/2017

Rules for land use and development of the Khor urban settlement --> download link --> https://yadi.sk/i/mvFMa1u53LBd39

Decision No. 50 of 11/21/2016 On amendments to the Rules for land use and development of the Khor urban settlement --> download link -->

Protocol with meeting for public hearings on the draft amendments to the Rules for land use and development of the Khor urban settlement No. 1 from 11/19/2016

List of settlements included in the Khorsky urban settlement of the Lazo municipal district of the Khabarovsk Territory:

This page is under construction, we apologize.

Honorary citizens of the settlement

Vasiliev Gavriil Timofeevich (1928-1998)
Head of the Khorsky section of the Far Eastern railway from 1960 to 1995.
Hero socialist labor. Awarded two Orders of Lenin, the Order of the Red Banner of Labor, the Hammer and Sickle gold medal, Honorary Railway Worker,

Zinchenko Raisa Pavlovna (born 1932)
Director of Khorskaya Pervomayskaya school No. 2 from 1973 to 1987
Excellent student public education, awarded the memorial badge of the Governor of the Khabarovsk Territory “150 years of the Aigun Treaty. For merit."
Honorary resident of the village of Khor, labor veteran.

Tikunov Nikolay Timofeevich (1928-2010)
Framer of the Khorsky Order of Lenin woodworking plant, a shock worker of communist labor, awarded the Order of Lenin and the medal “For Labor Valor.”
Honorary resident of the village of Khor, labor veteran.

Trintsukov Boris Konstantinovich (1921-2000)
Director of the Khor hydrolysis plant, CEO association "Dalvostokhydrolizprom" from 1961 to 1982, excellent student in the microbiological industry, awarded two Orders of the Red Banner of Labor.
Honorary resident of the village of Khor, labor veteran.

Dimka Bezverkhy sobbed quietly and sucked in his breath noisily. The air was damp and heavy, like a wet duvet. Damn, I didn’t have enough time to dissolve the nagging. Although it’s insulting, of course, there are no words. He is already fifteen and his grandfather treats him like a brat. In front of everyone.

Dimka, together 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 were unknown to Dimka, but he was very offended. As befits a fifteen-year-old boy, he was a maximalist and a patriot to the last cell of his body. And if there's a war going on and the enemy, vile and cruel, burst into your home - that place of a real man - on the front line. At least that’s how Dimka’s father and grandfather raised him... In the near future, there were plans to enroll in military school, but we still had to live to see that.

Dimka was insulted to the point of snot by his own grandfather, retired criminal investigation major Fyodor Privalov. Firstly, he publicly called him a brat, and secondly, he slapped him, again publicly, on the back of the head because Dimka snapped back. Grandfather’s hand was heavy and Dimon, amid the laughter of the men, flew forward like a pendalized bear. It's great to kiss yourself when you fall on a protruding root.

Barely holding back his tears, he rushed into the forest, hearing his grandfather’s mocking voice behind him.

First, learn to wash your pot and keep your weapon in order, and then open your mouth.

Grandfather was of course right, but it was impossible to withstand public humiliation. Having run about two kilometers through the taiga from the camp, Bezverkhy sat down under a huge, spreading spruce tree and tried to calm down. It was getting dark quickly, the sounds filling the taiga were slowly fading, but Dimka was in no hurry to return. He wasn’t afraid of getting lost, since he had been tramping around the taiga with his grandfather since he was six years old. Mother and father were only for it, it’s better to be in the taiga than with the punks on the stairs littering the landing with seed husks and bulls. I wonder where they are now?

His father, Bezverkhy Sr., served, like his grandfather, in the police. Only not in the village department, but in Khabarovsk itself. Already a lieutenant colonel of the Organized Crime Control Department. He was sent to his grandfather back in June, with the start of the holidays, so that he would not dangle under his feet. With the start of the war, he could no longer reach his parents by phone.

The Chinese covered Khora, in the very first hour of the war with a wave of fire from the barrel and rocket artillery. It was incredibly scary... But also incredibly 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 Chora, besides the brand new woodworking plant built by the ubiquitous Selena Corporation, were three bridges, two road and one railway. It’s even surprising that the Chinese did not destroy them, despite the hurricane shelling. It was along these bridges, to the west, that the Fifth Guards Corps transferred its forces after repulsing the Chinese offensive in the Khasan and Bikin directions.

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

Grandfather vouched for Dimka, but still not last man in local areas, former boss UGRO and the current police bailiff. He said that without his family, the boy would disappear in an instant. And he even wrote to a nervous fat official from the village administration a receipt stating that 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, your grandson will not be lost. She said, hiding the receipt in a tattered folder.

It was truly impossible to be lost with my grandfather. Having grown up in a family of Old Believers, it was from there that he got such an archaic name and patronymic, who spent his entire childhood and youth in the taiga, working from the age of fifteen in a fishing cooperative, after the army he graduated from the Omsk police school and returned to serve in his native land, his grandfather did not give up hunting and fishing. In addition to animals, he began to hunt criminals, whom he hated with all his guts. Upbringing had an effect. 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 Department of Internal Affairs of the Department of Internal Affairs and the shoulder straps of a major twenty years later impeccable service. Because of his prickly and irreconcilable 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 men, and took up private fishing in which he succeeded. When the power in Moscow changed, and it was allowed to choose local police officers who monitor public order, grandfather, there were no competitors in the village of Khor and the surrounding area. For six years now, Ersh has been continuously leading the OMOB. They tried to attack him, they tried to buy him, but it all ended the same way - his ill-wishers retreated, and often they had to be taken out. His hand, like his grandfather’s character, remained heavy, and the blows to the jaw were irresistible.

Dimka knew this, he knew how everyone around him respected his grandfather and was secretly proud of him. Growing up in Khabarovsk, a million-strong city, among modern “predatory things of the century” in prosperous family, he was instinctively drawn to his stern, taciturn and tough grandfather, seeing inside him the core that distinguishes a real man, a breadwinner from a masculine “cloud in his pants.” Grandfather was widowed early (Dimka didn’t remember his grandmother; she died before he was born), but women always revolved around him, much younger than him, with an admiring sparkle in their eyes. Even his father, a lieutenant colonel of the regional Organized Crime Control Department, never dared to contradict him if they met with him at family holidays. And most importantly, what Dimka liked about his grandfather was 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 watch your step. Once, five years ago, Dimka got lost and almost died while fleeing from a young bear. Grandfather found him shaking with fear in a tree, brought him home, gave him tea with herbs and put him to bed. And in the morning, he flogged him with a soldier’s belt with a heavy buckle - he flogged him and said, “watch your step, learn your compass, watch your step.”

The lesson went to good use, and by the age of fifteen Dimka Bezverkhy knew how to read tracks, listen to the taiga, smell and hear an animal a kilometer away, hiding in the thickets, eat what the taiga gives and shoot ten times better than many Internet surfers who seriously consider themselves "survivalists". 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 his average height and average build, Dimka was extremely mobile and flexible, as if he was made of steel wire. Even notorious hooligans from older classes were afraid to mess with him. There were rumors that this was because of his father's cool connections, but this was not the case. It’s just that Dimka also had a severe, not at all teenage, blow.

Having wiped his face, Dimka sobbed again, but more quietly.

“Damn, I’m acting like a hysteric,” he scolded himself, already getting ready to get up and return to camp. And ask for an apology from my grandfather and the others for my stupid behavior. It’s unpleasant, of course, but it’s necessary. he's a man. And admitting your mistakes is the lot of real men, as his grandfather taught him. Suddenly Dimka sat down and became wary.

Sound. A sound alien to the taiga caught his attention. Quiet grumbling, no rattling. Somewhere overhead.

“It doesn’t look like a helicopter. Maybe a drone? The question is - whose?” Dimka thought, listening anxiously. He already knew what danger unmanned reconnaissance aircraft hovering in the sky posed to people. After them, usually came death. Death is sudden and rapid. In the form of Chinese artillery shells and rockets flying from the sky. A second ago - you were alive, then bang and what was left of you was put in a plastic bag.

However, the sound did not come closer, it sounded somewhere far away, and then it began to fade away altogether. Dimka jumped to his feet, but something stopped him from returning to camp. New, noise. An atypical rustling sound, somewhere overhead.

A rustling sound, quiet but distinct, was approaching every second, then a black shadow flashed overhead, on a piece of sky, surrounded like a palisade by gigantic pine trees. Then another, another... Dimka felt cold inside. Like the Nazgul from stupid fantasy fairy tales, they came to the Far Eastern taiga for their prey.

Lieutenant Jiang Tong from separate regiment special purpose"Sharp sword blue sky", moved the lines of the parachute system, catching air flow. The night vision device, copied one-on-one from the latest German analogue, helpfully showed a wide clearing stretching like a scar in the body of the Russian taiga. Jumping in complete darkness, in a forest, 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 constant rocket and artillery strikes, they were not destroyed. The reasons for this are now being examined by a special commission flying 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.

Twice already, they sent “yes blow” to blow up bridges, 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 an exhausting rush through the taiga and died in battle, under mortar fire, then nothing at all is known about the fate of the naval saboteurs who tried to get to the objects along the river.

The company of reconnaissance paratroopers where Jiang served was recalled from the Turkestan Front only four days ago. Before this, Lieutenant Thun managed to take part in less than a month in the capture of the three capitals of Bishkek, Alma-Ata and Tashkent as part of the 15th Airborne Corps. They descended on lazy, fat and sleepy cities like a flock of birds of prey, justifying their big name- “a sharp sword of the blue sky”, chopping enemy heads without mercy.

Colonel Fei, inviting him, Tong and the company commander, Captain Li Nan, to sit down, treated them to tea, and informed them about 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. More precisely, the General Staff of the People's Liberation Army and the political leadership of the PRC did not envisage Rus''s entry into the war at all. It was believed that they had had enough and western front. In Siberia and Far East In general, forces incomparable to the power of the PLA remained. But the Kremlin decided differently and, having pulled all aviation from the western front, crushing blow at airfields and naval bases. To put it bluntly, we were taken by surprise. Most of the Chinese Air Force planes 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-launched cruise missiles. Then Tu, MiG and Sukhoi rushed into the gaps... They primarily hit those air bases where the newest 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 in one blow, the Russians began to systematically attack the Chinese economy, primarily destroying 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 the Primorsky one, where the offensive immediately fizzled out, 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, taking turns crushing the PLA bridgeheads that had formed on their territory. In sequence. The defeat near Belogorsk was especially unpleasant, where three people died in the cauldron. elite divisions PLA equipped the latest technology. Having no real combat experience, the PLA generals were too slow to bring up reserves, and 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. A completely destroyed metropolis, practically 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, too, not everything went smoothly. 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 suppressed the rebellion with redoubled cruelty, but now the Islamists were actively supplied with weapons from abroad. First of all, Pakistanis, former allies stabbed in the back at the most crucial moment. Creatures...

Comrades! Colonel Fay began solemnly as the officers took sips of the strongest tea from their 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 already ready. Have a nice trip..

They were delivered to the capital by a heavy Il-76, purchased 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 stinking smog, interceptors patrolling the sky, police patrols with armored vehicles at intersections, and harried officers from Air Force headquarters. As it turned out upon arrival, there was serious unrest in the southern provinces. They say in Shanghai that even the local CCP branch and police department were attacked. There are rumors about Kuomintang spies...It's a mess in short...

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

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

Why are you sitting here!? He yelled. General Tsun has been waiting for you for half an hour already, you 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, it was dazzling in the eyes from the shoulder straps with big stars, it was hard to breathe due to a poorly working air conditioner.

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

Turning his head sharply, he called to the entering officers.

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

The picture on the screen was replaced by a high-resolution photograph. Obviously taken from a satellite. Three bridges, surrounded by forest and a small town. Even, probably, a village.

Air attack and rocket attacks, please do not propose. Here is a whole division of Russian air defense missile systems "Pantsir" and a little further - a battery of "Torov". The artillery has practically demolished the village, but cannot reach either the bridge or the camouflaged air defense positions.

Special forces, comrade general. answered Nan, standing at attention like a string.

There's a security battalion there, captain. And an anti-sabotage special forces company... Two groups were sent... One died, the other disappeared. Most likely she died too. 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 and thought... And finally gave birth to what seemed like an original idea. On your own head. Get into the Russians' back door. Aviators having familiarized themselves with original plan, clung to him like dogs to a bone.

So on Y-5? Why on it?

If at low altitude, then it is hardly noticeable. In addition, it is easy to 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 can be easily detected by ground posts monitoring the air situation. The risk of running into counteraction from air defense systems or small-caliber anti-aircraft guns is very high.

The plan was dangerous, but daring. Three light transport Y-5s, without crossing the actual state border, delivered them to the dumping site. Then, the shelves sharply gained altitude and released troops. Using wing parachutes, they needed to glide across the night sky no more than twenty kilometers. Russian air defense operators, busy hunting for high-speed targets, are unlikely to pay Special attention like slow objects, not like fighters, not like bombers, not even like transport aircraft...

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? Moreover, on this south direction The Russians don’t have any serious forces at all. They do not expect a stab in the back from their territory. Maybe a couple of dozen militias, not dry from drinking.

An abandoned forest clearing, ten kilometers south of the main object, was chosen as the landing point.

Don't get involved in battle! The 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 filled 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 have NVGs and devices for silent and flameless shooting.

Here comes the land! Damn, there are stumps and snags all around. Gritting his teeth and swearing to himself, Jiang Tong feverishly tried to slow down the speed of the parachute, just above a more or less suitable landing spot, where he could not break his neck...

“Saboteurs, fucking or ninjas!” Dimka understood when, raising his head and looking to the left, he saw people on strange parachutes rushing towards the ground. People came in to land in an old clearing, boldly landing at night in places where even during the day they could have broken all their bones.

According to the thoughts of a fifteen-year-old boy, now squeezing himself into the pine-scented trunk of a huge, wet spruce - normal people, they won’t jump like that. That means definitely a ninja... The fact that the mythical ninjas are Japanese, and 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 equally alien sounds. It smelled of metal, plastic, some other chemical rubbish, human sweat and fear... Something was quietly clanging and rustling.

One after another, reconnaissance paratroopers landed in 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 thickening silencers.

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

Quiet! Thun whispered and the soldier froze, like a statue. Once again, leisurely, Jiang examined dark forest, approaching the clearing from both sides. There was something he didn’t like...What was hiding there. Dangerous.

When the captain's hand touched his shoulder from behind, the lieutenant almost screamed in surprise.

What are you doing? Nan asked, carefully examining his subordinate.

Don't know. Thun replied shaking his head. I'm imagining something. Nerves, probably.

Where exactly does it seem? Captain Nan had served in reconnaissance for several days and knew what danger noticed in time was like. Every little detail is critical here.

Nowhere, commander. More precisely, everywhere...

It's clear. The captain patted Jiang on the back encouragingly. Cure your nerves while you're young. Are all your people safe?

Two legs were injured. Yan and Jang. There are no fractures, they can walk, just bruises...

Great. In the first group, the sniper, Sergeant May, sprained his leg. The bone seems to be intact, but he has a great limp.

Jiang nodded. May is an excellent shooter, the best in the company, maybe in the entire regiment. How unfortunate it all started.

Listen to the order, Lieutenant Toon. You will lead the rearguard, the covering group. Take May, although he is crippled, he walks silently. Four more, no - five fighters. We will follow each other, but you follow in a chain. Stay five hundred meters away from us...and look around. I don’t like it here either, it’s kind of quiet...

Thun's group, having let the main detachment go ahead, silently crept behind, stopping and listening every hundred steps. Sergeant May walked slowly, his face was contorted, but he silently endured the pain in his leg, the joint of which had been set in the field, having put a bunch of painkillers in his mouth. It's okay, he'll limp. And this is not what we had to endure during maneuvers.

Dimka observed that the paratroopers, hastily throwing dead wood into their parachutes, split into two groups and disappeared into the forest. The third group, which included a heavily limping soldier, moved forward, later, stretched out in a chain.

Those walking in a line stopped, listening and sniffing for a long time, but they could not notice Dimka. For two weeks spent in the forest, it smelled practically no different from environment. The Chinese who arrived from Turkestan smelled differently, even if they wanted to. Their nostrils were still filled with the smell of the mountains and sun-scorched semi-deserts of Central Asia.

“What should we do? If I make a noise, they will immediately shut me down. If I don’t raise him, they’ll kill my grandfather and the men,” Bezverkhy thought as he watched the sneaking Chinese.

Suddenly Dimka realized that if he shot and made noise, everything would end. Everything. There will be death and eternal, hopeless darkness. He lowered the SKS carbine and leaned it against the spruce trunk and sat down on a soft pillow of damp pine needles.

Fear squeezed his throat and paralyzed his will. I wanted to live, I really wanted to live when I was not quite sixteen.

They say that at such moments, your whole life flashes before your eyes... What could flash at fifteen years old? Mother's warm hands, 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 chickens out, first they will kill his grandfather and the militia, then someone else, then his father and mother, Lariska, all his friends, relatives and loved ones...

“You are a man, Dimka. What distinguishes a man from a “cloud in his pants” is responsibility. For the family, for the wife, for the children, for the country, finally....” Grandfather's words came to mind...

Wiping away the flowing tears, Dimka sat down on one knee and, gritting his teeth, smoothly, as his grandfather taught, began to pull the trigger, aiming at the retreating figure on the far left.

The shot thundered deafeningly in the night forest... Despite the previous target (he knew he had hit), Dimka transferred the fire to the rest of the paratroopers, aiming at the vague, blurred contours.

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

Fyodor Kuzmich Privalov sat in a sleeping bag, legs crossed, eyes closed. He did not sleep, waiting for his grandson to return. His blood is hot, all in his grandmother, may she rest in heaven. And to take after my mother, too... No, I would like to take after my grandfather. The grandfather, deep down in his soul, regretted that he had insulted and hit his grandson in front of the militia. Although he deserved it, it had to be done in private. For the family, or something...

Of course, the little guy will be back soon. This has happened more than once. He will flare up, run away, come back... He knows and loves Taiga - nothing will happen to him...

Three sharp, whip-like shots forced him to instantly jump up and grab his Tiger with optics. My heart sank painfully. This is the grandchildren's carbine! You can't confuse its sound with anything else!

One after another, as if on command, the sleeping militia woke up. After all, they have been going hunting in the taiga for a long time, their hearing has been honed. There is no need to talk now, we need to act

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

Nodding in agreement and breaking into pairs, with one covering the other, the militia moved into the thicket, dressed in shaggy, hunting camouflage. Like goblin from fairy tales... We moved north, towards the clearing where Dimkin’s carbine was firing.

After another forty minutes, the radio station at the district commandant received a signal that a sabotage group of more than twenty people had been detected.

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

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

Realizing that they were gradually surrounded by strange people who came from nowhere, looking like shaggy demons, who attacked them on the march from the thicket and stopped their advance, Lieutenant Jiang Tong ordered a breakout using the fire of his own artillery as cover.

He had already fought and his inner instinct told him 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 access to the border. We need to break through now...

Two days later, fourteen dirty, exhausted soldiers from the elite parachute reconnaissance regiment “Sharp Sword of the Blue Sky” returned to Chinese territory, having for the first time failed to carry out orders and failed the mission. They were led by Lieutenant Thun, wounded in the shoulder by a fragment of a Russian mine. He was reeling, but he stubbornly led his people to salvation, avoiding ambushes and minefields that closed the entire border area.

The militia found Dimka 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 men. Killed by shots to the head. But there was no one to mourn Dimka...

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

Put everyone, every 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 Tsung demanded from his envoy to find out from the surviving paratroopers the details of the failed raid. The remnants of the detachment returned to their own, to the location of the 22nd motorized brigade of the PLA.

Once they’ve rested, in the morning, demand a full report on the failed special operation. Immediately! The general shouted, causing the entruster to flinch.

Li Cong was nervous. The General Staff and Air Force Headquarters were already putting pressure on us, demanding an answer for yet another failure. A scapegoat was needed who would take all the sin upon himself. There is more than a billion people in the country - there is no one to blow up one bridge! Cretins.

A couple of minutes later, the leather-lined door to the office quietly opened and a well-fed messenger scurried through like a snake, absolutely inaudibly. Dumb as a plug, but reliable.

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

Why don't you mumble, son of the tree toad! The general raised his voice.

They died...comrade general..

How did they die?

Everyone died... Lieutenant Thun, after being bandaged, was about to be sent to the rear and he went to his soldiers to say goodbye. Into the dugout that they were given... That's where they were attacked. They threw grenades at the dugout.

What, right at the brigade's location?

Yes sir. At night, around ten...

What is this, special forces? The general absolutely did not understand anything.

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

No. Only a corpse. He blew himself up with a grenade. No documents, nothing. 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 with it.

Like this. The hero-mother makes his way right into the location of the PLA brigade, a loner attacks the special group returning from a mission and kills it. Right at the brigade's location! And he’s still trying to go back, across the front line... Our infantry doesn’t catch mice at all anymore.

The general cursed dirtyly and demanded that the entruster get the hell out.

OMOB - public security police department. In this reality, the law enforcement structure is subordinate local authorities authorities. Combines the functions of teaching staff and district police services. IN major cities usually called the municipal police.

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

“Yes-dui” is the PLA designation for all special-purpose units.

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

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 Yakovlivich Dudko, and the family can be considered old-timers.

There are three schools in our village, and local history work is carried out in each school. Interested schoolchildren collect and study a lot of material 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 budget educational institution average secondary school No. 1 of the working village of Khor municipal district named after Lazo, Khabarovsk Territory

Research paper competition

“My Lazo district: yesterday, today, tomorrow”

Regional local history conference “My Fatherland”

History of the village of Khor in poetic creativity my fellow countrymen

7th grade student of 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. Choir 2016.

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

The hypothesis of my research was that the events happening around us do not pass without leaving a trace. They leave an imprint on a person’s life and destiny, influence his thoughts, moods and actions. And if we're talking about O creative person, then on his work.

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 studying the history of the village of Khor and getting acquainted with the works of local poets and communicating with some of them.

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

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

"Streets of my village"

The streets of my village -

Each is a legend and a mystery.

And most probably remember

Everything in their life was not smooth.

The settlers remember the first laughter,

Horses neigh in fright,

How much joy everyone had

And hope next to suffering.

The first barracks houses

And the first plowed plot,

The first taiga winter

The first transcendental happiness.

First Ukrainian wedding

A scythe ringing through the dew,

The first good estate.

A river flows from the mountains,

A lot of it has already leaked,

The girl weaving a wreath

She has already become a gray-haired grandmother.

The streets have changed since then

Lanes, intersections and courtyards,

Still remembers my village Khor,

How the axes clattered loudly.

The village of Khor gradually grew and developed, but it was a difficult test for Soviet people became Great Patriotic War. On the very first day of the war, dozens of volunteers came to the district military registration and enlistment office. Among the defenders of the Motherland were my fellow countrymen. Among them is Vladimir Dmitrievich Kulagin. Unfortunately, only one poem by Vladimir Dmitrievich remains. It's called"9th May". This poem is not about the village, but it is interesting to us because of what trials and 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 and began to expand industrial production, intensified 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 beautiful plant grew.

Here in the factory workshops

We met good friends.

Who hasn't met yet -

Will definitely find it soon!

They'll make noise here too

Young birches and maples,

And again I'm in the spring

I will repeat your name.

And when you're not there,

I will think about you lovingly,

Who hasn't met love -

Will definitely meet her!

How close we are now

Our failures and joys.

And they call us forward

Five-year plans and milestones...

Love this land

Make everything around you better and more beautiful

And to your work

Be sure to put your heart into it.

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

We live like other people and suffer,

And our place is not a resort,

And it’s called Choir,

And the Chorus is simply the devil.

We stare at the world in surprise,

Let's go either backward or forward,

The Khor industry is collapsing,

Commerce is flourishing.

Everything is the same as in the vaunted America:

Crime, and bribery, and flattery,

And swearing, and drunken hysterics,

And there is a Khor mafia.

Here the pipes are smoked over the boiler rooms,

And this smoke eats your lungs.

Drink alcohol - it is a sure salvation,

You will be healthy and warm.

And if you want some snacks -

Sausage is at your service.

And everything is fine for a minute,

Not life, but sheer beauty.

We try to live like other people,

And our place is not a resort.

And it’s called Choir,

And the Chorus is simply the devil.

The older generation of my fellow countrymen had to endure difficult times of perestroika. But their talent, hard work, creative potential they leave us with hope for the best. This hope is illuminated in Olga Anatolyevna Kazakova’s poem dedicated to the 115th anniversary of the village of Khor. These poems are not only full of admiration for our predecessors, their hard work and achievements, but 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 purest.

Pogranichnaya Street stretches along the shore,

And together with me he admires the Chorus.

My choir began on this street.

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

Factories smoked and people were born,

We dreamed, worked and smiled.

They loved, of course, and believed sacredly,

That life will become better and it will be rich

Look at the village in the radiant waters,

Troubles, anxieties, adversities will not touch him,

What will grow, turn green and work,

That it can turn into the city of Lazovsk.

But it didn’t turn out the way the village dreamed,

But still, the Khorskys still have hope,

We believe that children will be born here,

And when they appear in the world, they will be able to

Do not abandon the village, leave and return,

So that in new life take a dip with him.

Children are born here, raised and achieved,

So that they all want to drink that water,

Which their ancestors, their grandfathers drank,

When the taiga and victories were uprooted

They kept everything. They didn’t leave, they didn’t bend,

They didn’t dare and didn’t go back.

They left us their native land,

So beloved and dear.

At least a little of the winters and years have passed here,

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 long road awaits us

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

While collecting materials, I studied a lot of literature, tried to restore some dates and facts, talking with different people– eyewitnesses of the events described in the work.

I would like to express special gratitude to the employees of the Socio-cultural Center of the Khorsky urban settlement, Lyudmila Ivanovna Baranova and Olga Anatolyevna Kazakova, for the materials provided and personal archives.

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

Oh yes, Khor is neither a village nor a city.

Swung both wide and long!

You know, you are truly dear to me,

If I look into my heart.

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