Они сражались за Родину / They Fought for Their Land

MOSFILM STUDIOS
First Creative Association
In the name of those who live,
and who is nevermore,
and who will live thereafter...
Mikhail Sholokhov
THEY FOUGHT FOR THEIR COUNTRY
Vasily SHUKSHIN as Petr Lopakhin
Vyacheslav TIKHONOV as Nikolai Streltsov
Sergei BONDARCHUK as Ivan Zvyagintsev
Georgiy BURKOV as Alexander Kopytovsky
Yury NIKULIN as private Nekrasov
Ivan LAPIKOV as sergeant Poprischenko
Nikolai GUBENKO as lieutenant Goloschekov
Andrei ROSTOTSKY as corporal Kochetygov
Nikolai VOLKOV as private Nikiforov
Nikolai SHUTKO as the cook Lisichenko
Screen Adaptation and Direction Sergei BONDARCHUK
Director of Photography Vadim YUSOV
Production Designer Felix YASYUKEVICH
Music by Vyacheslav OVCHINNIKOV
Assistant Director Vladimir DOSTAL
Edited by Elena MIKHAILOVA
Featuring: Evgeny Samoilov Nona Mordyukova
Innokenty Smoktunovsky
Angelina Stepanova, Irina Skobtseva Lidiya Fedoseeva
1942. July.
Time to make a stop maybe.
You bet. We have covered about 30 km without no stop.
Half a bucketful of spring water
for each wouldn't hurt, what do you think?
Regiment, march on!
The war had reached
even this farmstead lost in the endless Don steppe.
And that's exactly how you read your son's letters:
you read bit by bit, and you drink bit by bit.
But I'm not a slow type,
I'm too impatient for this.
Give me the bucket, or you'll burst.
Nikolai, you receive letters from your son,
but what about your wife? Are you widowed?
I don't have a wife. We broke up.
How long ago?
Last year.
I see.
What about your kids? You've two of them?
Yes. They live with their mother.
You deserted your wife or what?
No, she deserted me.
On the day when the war was proclaimed.
I came home,
from a business trip... And she was gone already.
She just left a note, and that's all.
She walked out on you because of another guy?
I don't know.
Means, she did have a lover.
Women are bitches.
You're such a handsome guy,
an agronomist, good salary and everything,
can't ask for more.
And that whore didn't even pity her children.
Peter!
Gimme a smoke.
You've been to the medical unit?
- Yeah. - And so?
- Nothing. - Why go there then?
Just looking. For any familiar faces.
There is such a cute lassie there.
- Did she fall for you? - 'twasn't my intention.
Oh, come on, don't give me that.
You polished your boots and medals not for nothing.
Of course, there are guys with more medals…
Stop it, you oaf. I had no such intention.
Just strolling about.
The grub you cook for us isn't enough for stamina.
I'm so hungry, I even stopped dreaming about my wife.
You're right.
Hey, you rolled the cig thick as a finger!
Return half of it.
I can't roll thin cigs if tobacco isn't mine.
- Give it back. - Take it easy.
What a bum you are, eh.
And from my own tobacco I make thin cigs.
So, what kind of dreams you see then?
Lean dreams.
All kind of crap, crappy like your porridge.
Don't grieve for her, Micola.
You'll settle this after the war.
What means is that you have kids,
they are the core of life,
they'll have to restore everything after this war,
and it's a real serious war.
Women, you know,
are such an impossible lot.
They would tie themselves into a knot to get what they want.
A obstinate animal, woman is.
I know their kind,
they are so full of tricks, may they be damned.
I'll tell you a story.
It happened before the war, on May 1.
I and my friends other combiners
threw a party,
with our wives and everything,
with a lot of accordion music.
So, for a warmer,
we all had a drink,
including myself and my wife Nastasia Filippovna.
And there was also that single lady,
a good dancer, gypsy style.
I admired her dancing,
and nothing more,
no intentions below my waist.
But my wife Nastasia Filippovna...
Nastasia Filippovna...
Peter Lopakhin.
Did you have a nice sleep, mister Streltsov?
Ask some grub from the cook. I've a headache.
I see...
Depression caused by our army retreating,
plus heat and headache.
Let's go and take a swim. We're setting off soon.
Hi.
Hey, let's go to the river, we'll scrub you clean.
Look, Micola - what a tractor! The engine is real powerful.
See - what a trailer!
This tractor can tow three combines at a time!
Start it up.
Come on, it'll take ages here.
Why don't you take a swim, Nekrasov?
I have malaria.
You're so gloomy, Nikolai.
What's the reason?
I can see no reason for being happy.
Oh, no reason at all?
Come on, you're alive and in one piece, buddy.
Look what a sunny day, a real blessing.
You're a veteran,
have been warring for almost a year,
but you've emotions of a greenhorn.
You think, Germans beat us and that's all?
You think it's the end of the world? Of the war?
You are like some cheap character from a vaudeville,
plus flirting with women even in wartime.
It's a shame you didn't come with me.
There's a lady doctor there,
a real knock-out.
I'm serious.
Her beauty's knock-out potential
can be equaled to a six-barreled mortar.
So, she is real dangerous,
be it a soldier or a commander.
I only know
that we're living through a catastrophe,
and we can only make guesswork
about how great the catastrophe.
We've been on the march for five days,
we'll soon reach the Don River and then Stalingrad...
Germans smashed our regiment.
And what's going on with the rest of the army?
We're marching and marching...
Marching to nowhere.
So don't give me that crap about being alive,
about the sun shining and lilies floating,
it makes me sick.
And I'm not some cowardly doggie
with his tail between his legs.
You said, they beat us? It served us right!
Means, we should war better!
And stop whining in my presence.
- I'm not gonna wipe your tears. - I don't need it.
And spare me your pathetic speeches.
Better tell me - when are we going to war properly?
Right now, right here, in this steppe!
I've reached such a degree of anger,
you spit on me - and I'll hiss and splutter, so angry I am.
Come here, or I'll drown you!
Just you wait, you bow-legged devil!
Hey, what are you carrying, Slavs?
Crawfish.
- Where from? - From near the dam,
must be springs there, the water is real freezing!
- How many? - About one hundred, small ones.
Way too many for the two of you.
I'll go and fetch a bucket and some salt, agreed?
It's a deal.
Good afternoon.
Can you lend us a bucket and some salt?
We are going to cook crawfish.
- You says, some salt? - Yes.
Not even a piece of dung for you guys.
Why are you being so unkindly to us?
Don't you know why, you shameless one?
You are going yonder across the Don?
And who is going to war here?
Maybe you expect old women to take to arms
and protect you from Germans?
You are letting down your country!
Shame and damnation upon you!
You says, salt? May you get boiled and oversalted in hell!
Go away!
Aren't you furious, old woman.
You don't deserve my kindness.
You wear a medal. Was it for catching crawfish?
Leave my medal alone, old woman,
it's none of your concern.
Everything concerns me, my falcon.
I was breaking my back all my life,
was a diligent tax-payer
and helped my country. And you're running away like scared rabbits,
leaving the land to plunderers,
can't you understand that, you empty head?
I know, I know.
- But you're wrong. - Don't you teach me.
You're talking like this because none of your family is warring.
None of my family?
Go and ask my neighbors.
My three sons and my son-in-law are warring,
and my fourth son was killed in Sevastopol.
Now you see?
I'm not so hard on you, because you're a stranger.
But if some of my sons showed up,
I would belabor them with a stick
and say in a motherly way:
if it's war, then war like a real soldier,
instead of running from enemy all across the country,
don't be such a disgrace upon your old mother.
I'm sorry, I'm sorry.
'Meady' words that I was treated to, eh.
Hey, wait, soldier.
But be sure and return it.
I'm not so proud not to accept it.
Thank you, old woman.
Such a nice old lady, so talkative
and very hospitable.
Her sons are warring, too,
so she offered me to have her potluck,
- sour cream and everything. - And you?
I'm not some rogue,
to eat old ladies' sour cream.
It depends on how old the lady is, eh.
Better tell us about 'your' lady.
Why didn't you accept food from her?
When you return the bucket, do ask for some sour cream.
Oh, hold me, comrades,
I gonna swoon from this heavenly smell.
I'm dying for some good icy beer.
Fresh from the cellar.
People dying from heat, in cars with no canvas tops.
Imagine we're in some Moscow restaurant, eh.
Say, at the ‘Intourist' hotel...
Smells of dill…
and of crawfish soup...
We can do without beer.
Hey, their eyes are popping out already.
Why leave in the daytime? It's bare steppe,
German planes will turn them into macaroni.
Maybe they're leaving because it's urgent.
Hey, and I can't hear the sappers' hammers.
Our crawfish give us a farewell smile,
goddamit.
Comrades: we have an order
to defend the height behind the farmstead,
at the crossroads.
We should hold on until reinforcement arrives.
Is the task clear to you?
Of late we have suffered heavy losses,
but we kept the banner of our regiment.
And we must uphold its honor.
We must hold on until the last.
It's good to engage under the banner,
but to retreat would be a shame.
What do you think? Will we manage?
We have to.
One can end a cripple digging earth likes this.
What do you think, Micola?
It's all right with me.
Only explosives and not a spade can rip such an earth,
During all this time at the front
I alone have done as much earthwork
a wheeled tractor would do in spring season.
No number of 'work-days' can describe our sweat!
Cut that talk.
Zvyagintsev!
Micola, eh...
That bitch.
The 'guests' are coming…
Kochetygov, dig deeper -
do it like Maiboroda.
And use thyme for camouflage.
To the left, Makar!
Now!
Damn, it jammed.
Come on, come on...
Kochetygov,
wait till he comes closer.
We did them.
Their blitzkrieg failed. We did them.
Let them come again - and we'll do them again!
Shoot the infantry men.
Assault!
Follow me!
Hurrah!
Micola...
Pals!
Falcons, assault!
Show them hell!
For our Motherland!
Forward!
Dear me...
Hey, combiner.
The losses so enormous, don't even tax your brain.
So much bread destroyed...
Those infidels...
Nikolai Streltsov, before they took him to the hospital,
said to keep an eye on you.
He said: "Take care of that nincompoop Zvyagintsev.
"God forbid he'll get killed".
So, I'll be always here for you.
Care for some crust?
Give me one.
Take two.
Oh, my...
Stop torturing yourself.
Better talk to me.
Stop muttering.
And don't you dare talk to yourself,
I forbid you.
- You're not my commander. - You're wrong, buddy.
I am your commander,
and instead of thwarting
you should try to please me.
How come you're my commander?
Use your brains, the ones under your helmet.
Only fragments are left from our regiment.
Another battle like this,
and there will be only three of us -
you and I and the cook Lisichenko.
And in that case
I'll be the commander,
and I'll make you oaf the staff commander.
So, cherish our friendship.
Commanders like you don't exist.
What makes you think so?
Regiment commander should be serious,
using serious words.
You mean I'm such a fool or what?
You're a blubberer and a jester.
Have you ever grieved at all?
I am grieving, right now, why?
You don't look like a grieving person.
I simply don't demonstrate my grief.
So, what is your grief like?
Well, my grief is normal as normal can be.
Germans have probably seized my hometown,
where my wife and my old father live,
and where is the mine where I worked.
And many of my friends are dead already,
is it clear to you?
Now you see what kind of person you are?
Still joking, amongst all this grief.
Micola Streltsov
was a serious person,
he thought the world of me,
and I thought the world of him.
He was so serious, his wife even walked out on him.
Your heart is full of coal dust, miner.
All you can do is dig coal
and shoot clumsily from your long rifle.
You're an empty person,
all you have is your looks, nothing more.
Antitank rifleman is a serious profession,
not for your character,
because, Peter, you are so…
Hey, hey...
Come to your senses, you, Anika the warrior.
I have dozed off.
You fell asleep, like an old horsie in harness.
You're strong like a horse,
- but the drowse is stronger. - Right you are.
It may happen to me again.
If you see me nodding, Peter,
please poke me on the back,
and don't spare me.
I'll poke you with great pleasure,
with the butt of my rifle.
Have a smoke, Ivan,
to chase away sleepiness.
You look pitiful when you're sleepy,
like, you know...
...and even worse.
It's your last tobacco,
I can't accept it.
Gosh, we don't even have tobacco!
Come on, smoke.
Give it to me.
Let me have a couple of draws.
Smoke, Ivan,
enjoy it.
What a beautiful vista!
What a nice vantage ground.
Let me give you a hand, Peter.
The future commander should be above all this digging.
Great, Ivan.
We'll beat them infidels from here,
we'll beat them
till metal shavings fly from their tanks,
till their bodies become meat and hair!
You're so brave, after battle.
Yesterday, the sight of the tanks made you pale.
I always grow pale on seeing tanks.
You would go: "Cartridge, cartridge",
as if I don't know my job.
You were like a nervous lady, eh.
Hey, you, pious Ivan,
what all this feeble picking about?
Earthwork, like lovemaking,
is about deepness!
You should penetrate!
And because you can't penetrate, Ivan,
you didn't deserve your wife's letters.
She has nothing to remember you by.
Gee, Ivan...
You're such a bad mouth!
You should watch your tongue.
What's the matter? You came to a point like a hunting dog.
Stay here and protect the interests of our country,
and I'll pay a visit to that house yonder there.
- What for? - I'll reconnoiter.
If the officer asks,
tell him it's nature's call,
terrible cramps and so on.
And even maybe dysentery!
Girls, look - a soldier!
Glasha, dog my cat,
why haven't you harnessed the horse?
Your jade will have enough time to get you across the Don.
Salute.
- My name is Peter Lopakhin. - Salute.
Is it the stables here or what?
No, it's the dairy.
We getting ready to go away.
Our farmstead will be burned down, if the battle begins.
Oh, yes, your farmstead will come to harm,
but we shall defend it with all our might.
May God help you.
What about some milk or butter coming our way?
You should talk to head of the dairy.
That freckled girl.
- And who are you? - I'm the groom here,
for three years already.
I do haying, I look after horses. I was even promised a bonus.
Dear Glasha,
you are so appetizing.
Like whipped cream, you know.
So appetizing,
I would stow you away
at one go.
Yummy cream,
- maketh my mouth water. - Well, so what?
Oh, don't be so shy, eh.
The girl looks fine, but she isn't mine…
What's the secret of such nice forms?
- Fresh milk? - Enough.
Take the milk can, and let's go away.
And butter you can have afterwards.
But we have no time.
Stop it, or I'll cool you down.
Oh, what an angry girl.
- Come here... - What?
Stop it, or I'll shout.
Where are you?
Have you frozen into the ice or what?
Come out! Harness the horse quickly!
Will you cross the Don or stay on this side?
I'm asking, just in case.
We'll be leaving now, soldier.
You can go with us.
No, not yet.
But if it comes to that,
where shall we meet, Glasha?
I don't think we should, really.
But if you want it real serious,
we'll be in the forest, across the Don.
We aren't going to leave too far.
I see.
I'll come to her.
No. The sergeant will be mad.
I wish I wouldn't go,
but I'm so drawn to her.
Oh, Glasha...
If it were not for the war,
I would spend all my life with her, at the cow's udder,
- pulling at the teats. - Whose teats?
Nevermind.
I'll go.
One should be crazy to refuse from butter,
- to give it away to enemy. - Butter? Of course go.
Air raid!
Not a reproach you'll hear from me,
Your portrait I return to thee…
One is down!
Gee, it was full of bombs!
See?
If only all our gunners worked like this.
Hold it.
Look, they're heading our way!
There they go.
Three, four - shoot!
Cartridge!
Come on, shoot that bitch!
Cartridge!
What's wrong, Peter?
Are you wounded?
Hell, no!
He is bloody dead.
Bloody dead.
This is the way we should deal them!
You're a real ace, Peter Fedotych!
At ease.
Lopakhin - report yourself to the lieutenant.
Atta boy, Lopakhin.
You saw how I dealt him?
He was standing on his fours, shaking his head, saying:
"Fedya, have I died already?"
And his eyes popping out with fear,
the smell of stewed turnip all over him,
'cause, I guess, he had a yellow streak.
Nekrasov, are you alive there?
Sure thing.
Congrats.
You showed class. Here.
- Drink some. - What about you?
Come on, drink.
Thanks.
- Your first plane hit? - Yeah.
The lieutenant colonel called me
asking who hit down the plane. I think a medal's on the way.
Good. It's all right with me.
Well, you may go.
Germans will start an offensive soon.
Tell Borzykh:
it will be a fierce battle.
Germans don't know how many of us here.
They think, it's a whole division.
You've nice belts, eh.
It will be a real hot day,
so watch out.
We should hold the river crossing
for our troops to pass.
So, Siberian man,
still invulnerable to bombs?
Nothing can take me, until death takes me.
So, where is your famous 'shanezhki'?
In Omsk, in the kitchen where my wife is.
What day is it today?
Sunday.
She bakes 'shanezhki' today. So, you're invited.
Nah, thanks. Way too far away.
I'll have to do without 'shanezhki'.
Yeah, far away,
so far away...
Better you treat me, to some tobacco.
- Come on. - You ran out of yours?
No, I didn't.
Someone else's tobacco is more delicious.
If I hit down a plane,
I would give all my tobacco to fellow-soldiers.
The lieutenant warn us
to watch out. And he knows what he's saying.
You know what he reckons?
That German tanks will head at our positions.
Yonder there
is a good place for them to concentrate
and then to move out.
The lieutenant said: "I lay trust with Borzykh
"and you, Lopakhin".
So, we shall hold on till the last, Akim.
He lays trust with us for a good reason.
We are veterans all right,
most of us communists. And the lieutenant is a good guy.
He's a nice lad, yeah.
But will our neighbors hold on?
They will, there are more of them.
Well, good luck Akim.
Same to you.
That's a pretty thing!
How do you do.
How do you do.
Thanks for dropping by.
Now go on on your way.
I wish I said what I think about all this,
but I use epithets only dealing with women.
Kindly tell me:
who the hell put you down into this pit?
And what are you gonna do?
Where's the kitchen? What we gonna grub today?
No one put me down here.
I dug it and entrenched myself here.
I can't stay all alone at the kitchen.
So I betook myself here.
Oh, really?
You think we won't stand without you?
Exactly. You've said a mouthful.
There's no relying on you, Lopakhin.
What if you waver? So here I am.
Tell me, and no beating around the bush,
what we gonna grub today?
Cabbage soup.
How on earth?
It's simple:
cabbage soup with mutton.
A bomb fell near the bridge
where the sheep were grazing.
I butchered one wounded sheep
before it died in torments.
I stole some cabbage
in a most villainous way from the kitchen garden
and made a soup garnish.
I'll war a bit,
supporting you guys,
and then I'll make soup
and will it bring here to you guys
as you please, see?
So, everything is under control, Peter.
Because lassie loved Peter her mother would beat her...
So, are you pleased with me, hero?
Speak up.
My dear namesake...
Peter...
Spare me these sentimentalities, Peter,
and better give me a grenade.
Of course I'll give you a grenade.
Here you go.
Great, it may come in handy.
You fuse it
and throw it at them creeps.
- It's all right. - Thank you.
Well, Sasha, pull up your pants and get ready.
How is your spirit?
Good.
In our hazardous profession good spirit is everything.
Cartridge.
What poor shooters they are.
Who ever trained them?
Smooch-smooch to such trainers.
Hey, they'll leave us jobless if they go on like this.
Did you see that?
Hey, why are you so grey in the face?
I'm grey in the face from such life.
There he is!
Shoot him!
Cartridge!
Kochetygov!
Cartridge!
Hey, you, son of a gun,
are you going to war or not? Why didn't you shoot?
- I? - Yes.
Never stop shooting them.
I want them dead, and no captives!
Shoot them before they raise their hands and surrender!..