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The main idea of the story is a little soldier. All school essays on literature

Childhood and war

This review was used for work in literature lessons and speech development in the Russian language on the topics “Essays of different genres” (for students in grades 9-11), “Writing a review of what they read.”

Review of A.P. Platonov’s story “The Little Soldier”

Childhood and war

Childhood and war - these two things are incompatible, that’s what you think about first of all after reading A. Platonov’s story “The Little Soldier”.
The work is small in volume and can be read in one sitting. The author’s ability to accurately and carefully use every word does not seem stingy; on the contrary, the phrases become full-bodied and meaningful. The originality of Platonov’s style is emphasized in the story by the reverse composition, because of which you do not immediately find out what happened to the boy Seryozha and why he rejects one major and is drawn to another. The story of the little soldier growing up is simple and common in war. Many children were left orphans after the death of their parents, many went to the front and fought along with adults. And the realization that the unnatural has become commonplace creates the impression of fear. Is it possible to agree that children should live without parents, without a family? How can a defenseless child's soul survive in the hell of battles? Such questions arise before the reader.
The author conducts a leisurely conversation with the reader, from which you understand that Seryozha will not remain in the rear. His life has been distorted by the war, and he most likely will not be able to exist in a peaceful society. It becomes clear that Seryozha will probably die, will go, as the author writes, “God knows where,” “tormented by the feeling of his childish heart,” despite the fact that the writer leaves the ending open.
To appreciate this story by Platonov, you need to read it carefully. Although the story was written during the war years, I am convinced that not only children, but also adults will read it with pleasure, since the theme of a child’s ruined destiny worries many in our days of peace.

Platonov Andrey

Little soldier

Andrey Platonovich PLATONOV

LITTLE SOLDIER

Not far from the front line, inside the surviving station, Red Army soldiers who had fallen asleep on the floor snored sweetly; the happiness of relaxation was etched on their tired faces.

On the second track, the boiler of the hot duty locomotive quietly hissed, as if a monotonous, soothing voice was singing from a long-abandoned house. But in one corner of the station room, where a kerosene lamp was burning, people occasionally whispered coaxing words to each other, and then they too fell into silence.

There were two majors standing there, not alike external signs, but with the general kindness of wrinkled, tanned faces; each of them held the boy's hand in his own, and the child looked pleadingly at the commanders. The child did not let go of the hand of one major, then pressed his face to it, and carefully tried to free himself from the hand of the other. The child looked about ten years old, and he was dressed like a seasoned fighter - in a gray overcoat, worn and pressed against his body, in a cap and boots, apparently sewn to fit a child’s foot. His small face, thin, weather-beaten, but not emaciated, adapted and already accustomed to life, was now addressed to one major; the child's bright eyes clearly revealed his sadness, as if they were the living surface of his heart; he was sad that he was being separated from his father or an older friend, who must have been a major to him.

The second major drew the child by the hand and caressed him, comforting him, but the boy, without removing his hand, remained indifferent to him. The first major was also saddened, and he whispered to the child that he would soon take him to him and they would meet again for an inseparable life, but now they were parting for a short time. The boy believed him, but the truth itself could not console his heart, which was attached to only one person and wanted to be with him constantly and close, and not far away. The child already knew what great distances and times of war were - it was difficult for people from there to return to each other, so he did not want separation, and his heart could not be alone, it was afraid that, left alone, it would die. And in his last request and hope, the boy looked at the major, who must leave him with a stranger.

Well, Seryozha, goodbye for now,” said the major whom the child loved. - Don’t try too hard to fight, when you grow up, you will. Don’t interfere with the German and take care of yourself so that I can find you alive and intact. Well, what are you doing, what are you doing - hold on, soldier!

Seryozha began to cry. The major picked him up in his arms and kissed him on the face several times. Then the major went with the child to the exit, and the second major also followed them, instructing me to guard the things left behind.

The child returned in the arms of another major; he looked aloofly and timidly at the commander, although this major persuaded him with gentle words and attracted him to himself as best he could.

The major, who replaced the one who had left, admonished the silent child for a long time, but he, faithful to one feeling and one person, remained alienated.

Anti-aircraft guns began firing not far from the station. The boy listened to their booming, dead sounds, and excited interest appeared in his gaze.

Their scout is coming! - he said quietly, as if to himself. - It goes high, and anti-aircraft guns won’t take it, we need to send a fighter there.

They will send it,” said the major. - They're watching us there.

The train we needed was expected only the next day, and all three of us went to the hostel for the night. There the major fed the child from his heavily loaded sack. “How tired I am of this bag during the war,” said the major, “and how grateful I am to it!”

The boy fell asleep after eating, and Major Bakhichev told me about his fate.

Sergei Labkov was the son of a colonel and a military doctor. His father and mother served in the same regiment, so they took their only son to live with them and grow up in the army. Seryozha was now in his tenth year; he took the war and his father’s cause to heart and had already begun to truly understand why war was needed. And then one day he heard his father talking in the dugout with one officer and caring that the Germans would definitely blow up his regiment’s ammunition when retreating. The regiment had previously left German envelopment - well, in haste, of course, and left its warehouse with ammunition with the Germans, and now the regiment had to go forward and return the lost land and its goods on it, and the ammunition, too, which was needed. “They probably already laid the wire to our warehouse - they know that we will have to retreat,” the colonel, Seryozha’s father, said then. Sergei listened and realized what his father was worried about. The boy knew the location of the regiment before the retreat, and so he, small, thin, cunning, crawled at night to our warehouse, cut the explosive closing wire and remained there for another whole day, guarding so that the Germans did not repair the damage, and if they did, then again cut the wire. Then the colonel drove the Germans out of there, and the entire warehouse came into his possession.

Soon this little boy made his way further behind enemy lines; there he found out by the signs where the command post of a regiment or battalion was, walked around three batteries at a distance, remembered everything exactly - his memory was not spoiled by anything, and when he returned home, he showed his father on the map how it was and where everything was. The father thought, gave his son to an orderly for constant observation of him and opened fire on these points. Everything turned out correctly, the son gave him the correct serifs. He’s small, this Seryozhka, and his enemy took him for a gopher in the grass: let him move, they say. And Seryozhka probably didn’t move the grass, he walked without a sigh.

The boy also deceived the orderly, or, so to speak, seduced him: once he took him somewhere, and together they killed a German - it is unknown which of them - and Sergei found the position.

So he lived in the regiment, with his father and mother and with the soldiers. The mother, seeing such a son, could no longer tolerate his uncomfortable position and decided to send him to the rear. But Sergei could no longer leave the army; his character was drawn into the war. And he told that major, his father’s deputy, Savelyev, who had just left, that he would not go to the rear, but would rather hide as a prisoner to the Germans, learn from them everything he needed, and return to his father’s unit again when his mother left him. miss you. And he would probably do so, because he has a military character.

And then grief happened, and there was no time to send the boy to the rear. His father, a colonel, was seriously wounded, although the battle, they say, was weak, and he died two days later in a field hospital. The mother also fell ill, became exhausted, she had previously been maimed by two shrapnel wounds, one in the cavity, and a month after her husband she also died; maybe she still missed her husband... Sergei remained an orphan.

Major Savelyev took command of the regiment, he took the boy to him and became his father and mother, instead of his relatives, a whole person. The boy also answered Volodya with all his heart.

But I’m not part of them, I’m from another. But I know Volodya Savelyev from a long time ago. And so we met here at the front headquarters. Volodya was sent to advanced training courses, but I was there on another matter, and now I’m going back to my unit. Volodya Savelyev told me to take care of the boy until he arrives back... And when will Volodya return, and where will he be sent! Well, it will be visible there...

Major Bakhichev dozed off and fell asleep. Seryozha Labkov snored in his sleep, like an older, grown-up man, and his face, having now moved away from grief and memories, became calm and innocently happy, revealing the image of the holy childhood from which the war had taken him.

I also fell asleep, taking advantage of the unnecessary time so that it would not be wasted.

We woke up at dusk, at the very end of a long June day. There were now two of us in three beds - Major Bakhichev and I, but Serezha Labkov was not there.

The major was worried, but then decided that the boy had gone somewhere for a short time. Later we went with him to the station and visited the military commandant, but no one noticed the little soldier in the rear crowd of the war.

The next morning, Seryozha Labkov also did not return to us, and God knows where he went, tormented by the feeling of his childish heart for the man who left him, perhaps following him, perhaps back to his father’s regiment, where the graves of his father and mother were.

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Andrey Platonov
Little soldier

Not far from the front line, inside the surviving station, Red Army soldiers who had fallen asleep on the floor snored sweetly; the happiness of relaxation was etched on their tired faces.

There stood two majors, similar to each other not in external features, but in the general kindness of their wrinkled, tanned faces; each of them held the boy's hand in his own, and the child looked pleadingly at the commanders. The child did not let go of the hand of one major, then pressed his face to it, and carefully tried to free himself from the hand of the other. The child looked about ten years old, and he was dressed like a seasoned fighter - in a gray overcoat, worn and pressed against his body, in a cap and boots, apparently sewn to fit a child’s foot. His small face, thin, weather-beaten, but not emaciated, adapted and already accustomed to life, was now turned to one major; the child's bright eyes clearly revealed his sadness, as if they were the living surface of his heart; he was sad that he was being separated from his father or an older friend, who must have been a major to him.

The second major drew the child by the hand and caressed him, comforting him, but the boy, without removing his hand, remained indifferent to him. The first major was also saddened; and he whispered to the child that he would soon take him to him and they would meet again for an inseparable life, but now they were parting for a short time. The boy believed him, but the truth itself could not console his heart, which was attached to only one person and wanted to be with him constantly and close, and not far away. The child already knew what distance was like during the war - it is difficult for people from there to return to each other - so he did not want separation, and his heart could not be alone, it was afraid that, left alone, it would die. And in his last request and hope, the boy looked at the major, who must leave him with a stranger.

“Well, Seryozha, goodbye for now,” said the major whom the child loved. – Don’t try too hard to fight, when you grow up, you will. Don’t interfere with the German and take care of yourself so that I can find you alive and intact. Well, what are you doing, what are you doing - hold on, soldier!

The child returned in the arms of another major; he looked aloofly and timidly at the commander, although this major persuaded him with gentle words and attracted him to himself as best he could.

The major, who replaced the one who had left, admonished the silent child for a long time, but he, faithful to one feeling and one person, remained alienated.

Anti-aircraft guns began firing not far from the station. The boy listened to their booming, dead sounds, and excited interest appeared in his gaze.

- Their scout is coming! – he said quietly, as if to himself. - It goes high, and anti-aircraft guns won’t take it, we need to send a fighter there.

“They’ll send it,” said the major. - They're watching us there.

The train we need

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Book: Small soldier

Andrey Platonov

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Not far from the front line, inside the surviving station, Red Army soldiers who had fallen asleep on the floor snored sweetly; the happiness of relaxation was etched on their tired faces.

The second major drew the child by the hand and caressed him, comforting him, but the boy, without removing his hand, remained indifferent to him. The first major was also saddened; and he whispered to the child that he would soon take him to him and they would meet again for an inseparable life, but now they were parting for a short time. The boy believed him, but the truth itself could not console his heart, which was attached to only one person and wanted to be with him constantly and close, and not far away. The child already knew what distance was like during the war - it is difficult for people from there to return to each other - so he did not want separation, and his heart could not be alone, it was afraid that, left alone, it would die. And in his last request and hope, the boy looked at the major, who must leave him with a stranger.

The child returned in the arms of another major; he looked aloofly and timidly at the commander, although this major persuaded him with gentle words and attracted him to himself as best he could.

The major, who replaced the one who had left, admonished the silent child for a long time, but he, faithful to one feeling and one person, remained alienated.

Anti-aircraft guns began firing not far from the station. The boy listened to their booming, dead sounds, and excited interest appeared in his gaze.

- Their scout is coming! – he said quietly, as if to himself. - It goes high, and anti-aircraft guns won’t take it, we need to send a fighter there.

“They’ll send it,” said the major. - They're watching us there.

The train we needed was expected only the next day, and all three of us went to the hostel for the night. There the major fed the child from his heavily loaded sack.

“How tired I am of this bag during the war,” said the major, “and how grateful I am to it!”

The boy fell asleep after eating, and Major Bakhichev told me about his fate.

Sergei Labkov was the son of a colonel and a military doctor. His father and mother served in the same regiment, so they took their only son to live with them and grow up in the army. Seryozha was now in his tenth year, he took the war and his father’s work to heart, and had already begun to truly understand why war was needed. And then one day he heard his father talking in the dugout with one officer and caring that the Germans would definitely blow up his regiment’s ammunition when retreating. The regiment had previously left German envelopment - well, with haste, of course - and left its warehouse with ammunition with the Germans, and now the regiment had to go forward and return the lost land, and its goods on it, and the ammunition, too, in which there was a need. “They probably already laid the wire to our warehouse - they know that we will have to retreat,” the colonel, Seryozha’s father, said then. Sergei listened and realized what his father was worried about. The boy knew the location of the regiment before the retreat, and so he, small, thin, cunning, crawled at night to our warehouse, cut the explosive closing wire and remained there the whole day, guarding so that the Germans did not repair the damage, and if they did, then to cut it again the wire. Then the colonel drove the Germans out of there, and the entire warehouse came into his possession.

Soon this little boy made his way further behind enemy lines; there he found out by the signs where the command post of a regiment or battalion was, walked around three batteries at a distance, remembered everything exactly - his memory was not spoiled by anything - and when he returned home, he showed his father on the map how it was and where it was located. The father thought, gave his son to an orderly for constant observation of him and opened fire on these points. Everything turned out correctly, the son gave him the correct serifs. He is small, this Seryozha, the enemy took him for a gopher in the grass - let him move, they say. And Seryozhka probably didn’t move the grass, he walked without a sigh.

The boy also deceived the orderly or, so to speak, seduced him: once he took him somewhere, and together they killed a German - it is not known which of them - and Sergei found the position.

And then misfortune happened, and there was no time to send the boy to the rear. His father, a colonel, was seriously wounded, although the battle, they say, was weak, and he died two days later in a field hospital. The mother also fell ill, became exhausted - she had previously been maimed by two shrapnel wounds, one in the abdominal cavity - and a month after her husband she also died; maybe she still missed her husband... Sergei remained an orphan.

Major Savelyev took command of the regiment, he took the boy to him and became his whole person instead of his father and mother, instead of his relatives. The boy also answered Volodya with all his heart.

- But I’m not from their unit, I’m from another. But I know Volodya Savelyev from a long time ago. And so we met here at the front headquarters. Volodya was sent to advanced training courses, but I was there on another matter, and now I’m going back to my unit. Volodya Savelyev told me to take care of the boy until he arrives back... And when will Volodya return and where will he be sent! Well, it will be visible there...

Major Bakhichev dozed off and fell asleep. Seryozha Labkov snored in his sleep, like an adult, an elderly man, and his face, having now moved away from sorrow and memories, became calm and innocently happy, revealing the image of the saint of childhood, from where the war took him.

I also fell asleep, taking advantage of the unnecessary time so that it would not be wasted.

We woke up at dusk, at the very end of a long June day. There were now two of us in three beds - Major Bakhichev and I, but Serezha Labkov was not there.

The next morning, Seryozha Labkov also did not return to us, and God knows where he went, tormented by the feeling of his childish heart for the man who left him - perhaps after him, perhaps back to his father’s regiment, where the graves of his father and mother were.

The main idea of ​​the story is a little soldier. All school essays on literature

Andrey Platonov Little soldier

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The main idea of the story is a little soldier. All school essays on literature

Andrey Platonov
Little soldier