Almost a third of the prison camp term - from August 1950 to February 1953 - Alexander Isaevich Solzhenitsyn served in the Ekibastuz special camp in northern Kazakhstan. There, at common work, and on a long winter day, the idea of ​​​​a story about one day of one prisoner flashed. “It was just such a camp day, hard work, I was carrying a stretcher with a partner and I thought how I should describe the whole camp world - in one day,” the author said in a television interview with Nikita Struve (March 1976). - Of course, you can describe your ten years of the camp, there is the whole history of the camps - but it’s enough to collect everything in one day, as if by fragments, it’s enough to describe only one day of one average, unremarkable person from morning to evening. And everything will be."

Alexander Solzhenitsyn

The story "One day of Ivan Denisovich" [see. on our website its full text, summary and literary analysis] was written in Ryazan, where Solzhenitsyn settled in June 1957 and from the new academic year became a teacher of physics and astronomy at secondary school No. 2. Started on May 18, 1959, completed on May 30 June. The work took less than a month and a half. “It always turns out like this if you write from a dense life, the life of which you know too much, and not only do you not have to guess something there, try to understand something, but only fight off excess material, just so that the excess does not climbed, but to accommodate the most necessary, ”said the author in a radio interview for the BBC (June 8, 1982), hosted by Barry Holland.

Writing in the camp, Solzhenitsyn, in order to keep his composition and himself secret, memorized at first some verses, and at the end of the term, dialogues in prose and even continuous prose. In exile, and then rehabilitated, he could work without destroying passage after passage, but he had to hide as before in order to avoid a new arrest. After being typewritten, the manuscript was burned. The manuscript of the camp story was also burned. And since the typescript had to be hidden, the text was printed on both sides of the sheet, without margins and without spaces between lines.

Only more than two years later, after a sudden violent attack on Stalin, undertaken by his successor N. S. Khrushchev at the XXII Party Congress (October 17 - 31, 1961), A.S. ventured to offer a story for publication. On November 10, 1961, “Cave Typewriting” (without the name of the author) was handed over to Anna Samoilovna Berzer by R. D. Orlova, the wife of A. S.’s prison friend Lev Kopelev, to the prose department of the Novy Mir magazine on November 10, 1961. The typists rewrote the original, Anna Samoilovna asked Lev Kopelev, who came to the editorial office, how to name the author, and Kopelev suggested a pseudonym for his place of residence - A. Ryazansky.

On December 8, 1961, as soon as the editor-in-chief of Novy Mir Alexander Trifonovich Tvardovsky, after a month's absence, appeared at the editorial office, A. S. Berzer asked him to read two manuscripts that were difficult to pass. One did not need a special recommendation, even if only by hearing about the author: it was the story of Lydia Chukovskaya "Sofya Petrovna". About the other, Anna Samoilovna said: "The camp through the eyes of a peasant, a very popular thing." Tvardovsky took her with him until the morning. On the night of December 8-9, he reads and rereads the story. In the morning, he calls the same Kopelev through the chain, asks about the author, finds out his address, and calls him to Moscow by telegram a day later. On December 11, on the day of his 43rd birthday, A.S. received this telegram: “I ask you to come urgently to the editors of the new world, the costs will be paid = Tvardovsky.” And Kopelev already on December 9 telegraphed to Ryazan: “Alexander Trifonovich is delighted with the article” (this is how the former prisoners agreed among themselves to encrypt the unsafe story). For himself, Tvardovsky wrote in his workbook on December 12: “The strongest impression of recent days is the manuscript of A. Ryazansky (Solonzhitsyn), whom I will meet today.” The real name of the author Tvardovsky recorded from the voice.

On December 12, Tvardovsky received Solzhenitsyn, summoning the entire head of the editorial board to meet and talk with him. “Tvardovsky warned me,” notes A. S., “that he does not firmly promise to publish (Lord, I was glad that they did not transfer to the ChKGB!), And he would not indicate the deadline, but he would spare no effort.” Immediately, the editor-in-chief ordered to conclude an agreement with the author, as A. S. notes ... “at the highest rate accepted by them (one advance payment is my two-year salary)”. A.S. was then earning “sixty rubles a month” by teaching.

Alexander Solzhenitsyn. One day of Ivan Denisovich. The author is reading. Fragment

The original titles of the story are “Sch-854”, “One day of one convict”. The final title was composed in the editorial of Novy Mir on the author's first visit, at Tvardovsky's insistence, by "throwing assumptions across the table with Kopelev's participation."

In accordance with all the rules of Soviet hardware games, Tvardovsky gradually began to prepare a multi-way combination in order to finally enlist the support of the country's chief apparatchik, Khrushchev, the only person who could allow the publication of the camp story. At the request of Tvardovsky, written reviews about "Ivan Denisovich" were written by K. I. Chukovsky (his note was called "Literary Miracle"), S. Ya. Marshak, K. G. Paustovsky, K. M. Simonov ... Tvardovsky himself compiled a brief preface to the story and a letter addressed to the First Secretary of the CPSU Central Committee, Chairman of the Council of Ministers of the USSR N. S. Khrushchev. On August 6, 1962, after a nine-month editorial campaign, the manuscript of “One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich” with a letter from Tvardovsky was sent to Khrushchev’s assistant, V.S. Lebedev, who agreed, after waiting for a favorable moment, to acquaint the patron with an unusual essay.

Tvardovsky wrote:

“Dear Nikita Sergeevich!

I would not consider it possible to encroach on your time on a private literary matter, if it were not for this truly exceptional case.

We are talking about the amazingly talented story by A. Solzhenitsyn "One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich." The name of this author has not yet been known to anyone, but tomorrow it may become one of the remarkable names of our literature.

This is not only my deep conviction. The unanimous high appraisal of this rare literary find by my co-editors of the journal Novy Mir, including K. Fedin, is joined by the voices of other prominent writers and critics who had the opportunity to get acquainted with it in the manuscript.

But due to the unusual nature of the life material covered in the story, I feel an urgent need for your advice and approval.

In a word, dear Nikita Sergeevich, if you find an opportunity to pay attention to this manuscript, I will be happy, as if it were my own work.

In parallel with the progress of the story through the supreme labyrinths in the journal, there was a routine work with the author on the manuscript. On July 23, the editorial board discussed the story. A member of the editorial board, soon the closest collaborator of Tvardovsky, Vladimir Lakshin, wrote in his diary:

“I see Solzhenitsyn for the first time. This is a man of about forty, ugly, in a summer suit - canvas trousers and a shirt with an unbuttoned collar. The appearance is simple, the eyes are set deep. Scar on forehead. Calm, reserved, but not embarrassed. He speaks well, fluently, distinctly, with an exceptional sense of dignity. Laughs openly, showing two rows of large teeth.

Tvardovsky invited him - in the most delicate form, unobtrusively - to think about the remarks of Lebedev and Chernoutsan [an employee of the Central Committee of the CPSU, to whom Tvardovsky gave Solzhenitsyn's manuscript]. Let's say, add righteous indignation to the captain, remove a shade of sympathy for the Bandera people, give someone from the camp authorities (at least a warden) in more reconciled, restrained tones, not all of them were scoundrels.

Dementiev [deputy editor-in-chief of Novy Mir] spoke about the same thing more sharply, more straightforwardly. Yaro stood up for Eisenstein, his "Battleship Potemkin". He said that even from an artistic point of view, he was not satisfied with the pages of the conversation with the Baptist. However, it is not the art that confuses him, but the same fears. Dementiev also said (I objected to this) that it is important for the author to think about how the former prisoners, who remained staunch communists after the camp, would accept his story.

This offended Solzhenitsyn. He replied that he had not thought about such a special category of readers and did not want to think about it. “There is a book and there is me. Maybe I am thinking about the reader, but this is a reader in general, and not different categories ... Then, all these people were not at common work. They, according to their qualifications or former position, usually settled in the commandant's office, at the bread cutter, etc. And you can understand the position of Ivan Denisovich only by working in general jobs, that is, knowing it from the inside. Even if I was in the same camp, but watched it from the side, I would not write this. I wouldn’t write, I wouldn’t understand what salvation is work ... "

There was a dispute about the place in the story where the author directly speaks about the position of the captain, that he - a sensitive, thinking person - must turn into a stupid animal. And here Solzhenitsyn did not concede: “This is the most important thing. Anyone who does not become stupefied in the camp, does not coarsen his feelings - perishes. That's the only way I saved myself. I’m scared now to look at the photograph as I came out of there: then I was fifteen years older than now, and I was stupid, clumsy, my thought worked clumsily. And that's the only reason he was saved. If, like an intellectual, he had rushed about internally, been nervous, experienced everything that had happened, he would certainly have died.

In the course of the conversation, Tvardovsky inadvertently mentioned the red pencil, which at the last minute can delete one or the other from the story. Solzhenitsyn became alarmed and asked to explain what this meant. Can the editors or censors remove something without showing him the text? “To me, the integrity of this thing is more precious than its printing,” he said.

Solzhenitsyn carefully wrote down all the comments and suggestions. He said that he divides them into three categories: those with which he can agree, even considers that they are beneficial; those that he will think about are difficult for him; and finally, the impossible ones, those with which he does not want to see the thing printed.

Tvardovsky proposed his amendments timidly, almost embarrassedly, and when Solzhenitsyn took the floor, he looked at him with love and immediately agreed if the author's objections were solid.

A.S. wrote about the same discussion:

“The main thing that Lebedev demanded was to remove all those places in which the captain rank was presented as a comic figure (by the standards of Ivan Denisovich), as he was conceived, and to emphasize the party spirit of the captain (one must have a “positive hero”!). It seemed to me the least of the sacrifices. I removed the comic, it was as if “heroic”, but “insufficiently disclosed”, as critics found later. Now the captain's protest at the divorce was a little blown up (the idea was that the protest was ridiculous), but this, perhaps, did not disturb the picture of the camp. Then it was necessary to use the word “buttocks” less often for the escorts, I lowered it from seven to three; less often - “bastard” and “bastards” about the authorities (it was a bit thick with me); and so that at least not the author, but the katorang would condemn the Banderaites (I gave such a phrase to the katorang, but then I threw it out in a separate publication: it was natural for the katorang, but they were already reviled too thickly without that). Another thing is to add some hope for freedom to the prisoners (but I could not do this). And, the funniest thing for me, a hater of Stalin, at least once it was required to name Stalin as the culprit of disasters. (And indeed - he was never mentioned by anyone in the story! This is no coincidence, of course, it happened to me: I saw the Soviet regime, and not Stalin alone.) I made this concession: I mentioned the “dad with a mustache” once ... ".

On September 15, Lebedev telephoned Tvardovsky that “Solzhenitsyn (“One Day”) has been approved by N[ikita] S[ergeevich]chem” and that in the coming days the boss would invite him for a conversation. However, Khrushchev himself considered it necessary to enlist the support of the party elite. The decision to publish One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich was made on October 12, 1962 at a meeting of the Presidium of the Central Committee of the CPSU under pressure from Khrushchev. And only on October 20 did he receive Tvardovsky to report on the favorable result of his efforts. About the story itself, Khrushchev noted: “Yes, the material is unusual, but, I will say, both the style and the language are unusual - it didn’t suddenly go away. Well, I think the thing is strong, very. And it does not cause, despite such material, a feeling of heavy, although there is a lot of bitterness.

Having read “One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich” even before publication, in typescript, Anna Akhmatova, who described in “ Requiem"The grief of the "hundred-million people" on this side of the prison gates, uttered with pressure:" This story must be read and memorized - every citizen out of all two hundred million citizens of the Soviet Union.

The story, for weightiness, was called by the editors in the subtitle a story, published in the journal Novy Mir (1962. No. 11. P. 8 - 74; signed for publication on November 3; an advance copy was delivered to the editor-in-chief on the evening of November 15; according to Vladimir Lakshin, mailing started on November 17; on the evening of November 19, about 2,000 copies were brought to the Kremlin for the participants in the plenum of the Central Committee) with a note by A. Tvardovsky "Instead of a preface." Circulation 96,900 copies. (by permission of the Central Committee of the CPSU, 25,000 were printed additionally). Republished in "Roman-gazeta" (M.: GIHL, 1963. No. 1/277. 47 p. 700,000 copies) and a book (M.: Soviet writer, 1963. 144 p. 100,000 copies). On June 11, 1963, Vladimir Lakshin wrote: “Solzhenitsyn presented me with a hastily issued “Soviet Writer” “One Day ...”. The edition is really shameful: a gloomy, colorless cover, gray paper. Alexander Isaevich jokes: "They released it in the GULAG edition."

Cover of the edition of "One day of Ivan Denisovich" in Roman-Gazeta, 1963

“In order for it [the story] to be published in the Soviet Union, it was necessary to have a combination of incredible circumstances and exceptional personalities,” A. Solzhenitsyn noted in a radio interview on the 20th anniversary of the release of “One Day in Ivan Denisovich” for the BBC (June 8, 1982 G.). - It is quite clear: if it were not for Tvardovsky as the editor-in-chief of the magazine - no, this story would not have been published. But I will add. And if it were not for Khrushchev at that moment, it would not have been published either. More: if Khrushchev had not attacked Stalin one more time at that very moment, it would not have been published either. The publication of my story in the Soviet Union, in 1962, is like a phenomenon against physical laws, as if, for example, objects themselves began to rise upward from the earth or cold stones began to heat up themselves, to heat up to fire. It's impossible, it's completely impossible. The system was so arranged, and for 45 years it has not released anything - and suddenly here is such a breakthrough. Yes, and Tvardovsky, and Khrushchev, and the moment - everyone had to come together. Of course, I could later send it abroad and print it, but now, from the reaction of the Western socialists, it is clear: if it had been printed in the West, these same socialists would say: everything is a lie, there was nothing of this, and there were no camps, and there was no destruction, there was nothing. Only because everyone's tongues were taken away, because it was printed with the permission of the Central Committee in Moscow, that shocked me.

“If this [submission of the manuscript to Novy Mir and publication at home] had not happened, something else would have happened, and worse,” wrote A. Solzhenitsyn fifteen years earlier, “I would have sent a photographic film with camp things abroad, under the pseudonym Stepan Khlynov as it was already prepared. I did not know that in the most successful version, if in the West it was both published and noticed, even a hundredth of that influence could not have happened.

With the publication of One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, the author returned to work on The Gulag Archipelago. “Even before Ivan Denisovich, I conceived Archipelago,” Solzhenitsyn said in a CBS television interview (June 17, 1974), hosted by Walter Cronkite, “I felt that such a systematic thing was needed, a general plan for everything that was , and in time, how it happened. But my personal experience and the experience of my comrades, no matter how much I asked about the camps, all the fates, all the episodes, all the stories, was not enough for such a thing. And when “Ivan Denisovich” was printed, letters to me exploded from all over Russia, and in the letters people wrote what they had experienced, what anyone had. Or they insisted to meet with me and tell, and I began to meet. Everyone asked me, the author of the first camp story, to write more, more, to describe this whole camp world. They did not know my plan and did not know how much I had already written, but they carried and carried the missing material to me. “And so I collected indescribable material that cannot be collected in the Soviet Union - only thanks to “Ivan Denisovich,” summed up A. S. in a radio interview for the BBC on June 8, 1982. “So he became like a pedestal for the Gulag Archipelago.

In December 1963, One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich was nominated for the Lenin Prize by the editorial board of Novy Mir and the Central State Archives of Literature and Art. According to Pravda (February 19, 1964), selected "for further discussion." Then included in the list for secret ballot. Didn't receive an award. Oles Gonchar for the novel "Tronka" and Vasily Peskov for the book "Steps on the Dew" (Pravda, April 22, 1964) became laureates in the field of literature, journalism and journalism. “Even then, in April 1964, it was rumored in Moscow that this story with the vote was a “rehearsal for a putsch” against Nikita: will the apparatus succeed or not succeed in taking away the book approved by Himself? In 40 years, this has never been dared. But they got bolder - and succeeded. This gave them hope that even Himself was not strong.”

From the second half of the 60s, “One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich” was withdrawn from circulation in the USSR along with other publications of A. S. The final ban on them was introduced by order of the Main Directorate for the Protection of State Secrets in the Press, agreed with the Central Committee of the CPSU, dated January 28, 1974 In the order of Glavlit No. 10, specially dedicated to Solzhenitsyn, dated February 14, 1974, the issues of the Novy Mir magazine with the works of the writer (No. 11, 1962; No. 1, 7, 1963; No. 1, 1966) and separate editions of One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, including a translation into Estonian and a book for the blind. The order is accompanied by a note: "Foreign publications (including newspapers and magazines) with the works of the specified author are also subject to seizure." The ban was lifted by a note of the Ideological Department of the Central Committee of the CPSU dated December 31, 1988.

Since 1990, "One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich" has been published again in his homeland.

Foreign feature film based on "One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich"

In 1971, an Anglo-Norwegian film based on One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich was shot (director Kasper Wrede, Tom Courtney as Shukhov). For the first time, A. Solzhenitsyn was able to watch it only in 1974. Speaking on French television (March 9, 1976), he answered the host’s question about this film:

“I must say that the directors and actors of this film approached the task very honestly, and with great penetration, because they themselves did not experience this, they did not survive it, but they were able to guess this poignant mood and were able to convey this slow pace that fills the life of such a prisoner 10 years, sometimes 25 if, as often happens, he doesn't die sooner. Well, very little reproach can be made to the design, it is mostly where the Western imagination simply can no longer imagine the details of such a life. For example, for our eyes, for mine or if my friends could see it, former convicts (will they ever see this film?), - for our eyes, quilted jackets are too clean, not torn; then, almost all the actors, in general, are solid men, and yet there in the camp people are on the very verge of death, their cheeks are hollow, they no longer have the strength. According to the film, it is so warm in the barracks that a Latvian with bare legs and arms is sitting there - this is impossible, you will freeze. Well, these are minor remarks, but in general, I must say, I am surprised how the authors of the film could understand this way and sincerely tried to convey our suffering to the Western audience.

The day described in the story falls on January 1951.

Based on the materials of the works of Vladimir Radzishevsky.

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The idea for the story "One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich" came to Alexander Solzhenitsyn during his imprisonment in a special regime camp in the winter of 1950-1951. He was able to realize it only in 1959. Since then, the book has been reprinted several times, after which it was withdrawn from sale and libraries. The story appeared in free access in the homeland only in 1990. The prototypes for the characters of the work were real-life people whom the author knew during his stay in the camps or at the front.

Shukhov's life in a special regime camp

The story begins with a wake-up signal in a special regime correctional camp. This signal was given by hitting the rail with a hammer. The main character - Ivan Shukhov never slept through the rise. Between him and the start of work, the prisoners had about an hour and a half of free time, during which they could try to earn extra money. Such a part-time job could be helping in the kitchen, sewing or cleaning the supply rooms. Shukhov was always happy to earn extra money, but that day he was not in good health. He lay and pondered whether he should go to the medical unit. In addition, the man was worried about rumors that they wanted to send their brigade to the construction of Sotsgorodok, instead of building workshops. And this work promised to be hard labor - in the cold without the possibility of heating, far from the barracks. The brigadier Shukhov went to settle this issue with the workmen, and, according to Shukhov's assumptions, took them a bribe in the form of fat.
Suddenly, the man's quilted jacket and pea jacket, with which he was covered, were roughly torn off. These were the hands of the overseer named Tatar. He immediately threatened Shukhov with three days of "conde with the withdrawal." In the local jargon, this meant three days in a punishment cell with a withdrawal to work. Shukhov began to pretend to ask for forgiveness from the warder, but he remained adamant and ordered the man to follow him. Shukhov dutifully hurried after the Tatar. It was terribly cold outside. The prisoner looked hopefully at a large thermometer hanging in the yard. According to the rules, at temperatures below forty-one degrees, they were not taken to work.

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Meanwhile, the men came to the guards' room. There, the Tatar magnanimously announced that he forgave Shukhov, but that he should wash the floor in this room. The man assumed such an outcome, but he began to thank the warden for mitigating the punishment and promised never to miss the rise again. Then he rushed to the well for water, thinking about how to wash the floor and not wet his felt boots, because he did not have a change of shoes. Once in his eight years in prison he was given excellent leather boots. Shukhov loved them very much and took good care of them, but the boots had to be handed over when felt boots were given in their place. For all the time of his imprisonment, he regretted nothing more than those boots.
After quickly washing the floor, the man rushed to the dining room. It was a very gloomy building filled with steam. Men sat in brigades at long tables, eating gruel and porridge. The rest crowded in the aisle, waiting for their turn.

Shukhov in the medical unit

There was a hierarchy in each brigade of prisoners. Shukhov was not the last man in his, so when he came from the dining room, a guy lower than his rank was sitting and guarding his breakfast. Balanda and porridge have already cooled down and become almost inedible. But Shukhov ate it all thoughtfully and slowly, he reflected that in the camp the prisoners only have personal time, which is ten minutes for breakfast and five minutes for lunch.
After breakfast, the man went to the medical unit, almost reaching it, he remembered that he had to go buy a self-garden from the Lithuanian who received the package. But after a little hesitation, he still chose the medical unit. Shukhov entered the building, which never ceased to amaze him with its whiteness and cleanliness. All offices were still closed. Paramedic Nikolai Vdovushkin sat at the post, and diligently wrote out words on sheets of paper.

Our hero noted that Kolya wrote something “left”, that is, not related to work, but immediately concluded that this did not concern him.

He complained to the paramedic that he was not feeling well, he gave him a thermometer, but warned that the outfits had already been distributed, and he had to complain about his health in the evening. Shukhov understood that he would not be able to stay in the medical unit. Vdovushkin continued to write. Few people knew that Nikolai became a paramedic only when he was in the zone. Prior to that, he was a student of a literary institute, and the local doctor Stepan Grigorovich hired him, in the hope that he would write here what he could not do in the wild. Shukhov never ceased to be amazed at the cleanliness and silence that reigned in the medical unit. He spent five whole minutes inactive. The thermometer showed thirty-seven and two. Ivan Denisovich Shukhov silently pulled on his hat and hurried to the barracks to join his 104th brigade before work.

Harsh everyday life of prisoners

Brigadier Tyurin was sincerely glad that Shukhov did not end up in the punishment cell. He gave him a ration, which consisted of bread and a pile of sugar sprinkled on top of it. The prisoner hurriedly licked off the sugar and sewed half of the given bread into the mattress. He hid the second part of the ration in the pocket of his quilted jacket. On a signal from the foreman, the men set off to work. Shukhov noticed with satisfaction that they were going to work in the same place, which means that Tyurin managed to reach an agreement. On the way, the prisoners were waiting for a "shmon". It was a procedure to find out if they were taking something forbidden outside the camp. Today, the process was led by Lieutenant Volkovoy, whom even the head of the camp was afraid of. Despite the cold, he forced the men to strip down to their shirts. Anyone who had extra clothes was confiscated. Shukhov's teammate Buinovsky, a former hero of the Soviet Union, was indignant at this behavior of his superiors. He accused the lieutenant of not being a Soviet person, for which he immediately received ten days of strict regime, but only upon returning from work.
After the raid, the convicts were lined up in fives, carefully counted and sent under escort to the cold steppe to work.

The frost was such that everyone wrapped their faces in rags and walked in silence, looking down at the ground. Ivan Denisovich, in order to distract himself from the hungry rumbling in his stomach, began to think about how he would soon write a letter home.

He was supposed to write two letters a year, and there was no need for more. He had not seen his relatives since the summer of forty-one, and now it was the fifty-first year. The man thought that now he has more in common with his bunk neighbors than with his relatives.

Wife's letters

In her rare letters, his wife wrote to Shukhov about the difficult collective farm life that only women pull. The men who returned from the war work on the side. Ivan Denisovich could not understand how one could not want to work on one's own land.

My wife said that many in their area are engaged in a fashionable profitable trade - painting carpets. The unfortunate woman hoped that her husband would also take up this business when he returned home, and this would help the family out of poverty.

In the working area

Meanwhile, the 104th brigade reached the working area, they were built again, counted and let into the territory. Everything there was dug up and dug up, boards and chips were scattered everywhere, traces of the foundation were visible, prefabricated houses stood. Brigadier Tyurin went to get an order for the brigade for the day. The men, taking the opportunity, ran into a large wooden building on the territory, a heating room. The place at the stove was occupied by the thirty-eighth brigade, which worked there. Shukhov and his comrades simply leaned against the wall. Ivan Denisovich could not resist the temptation and ate almost all the bread he had in store for dinner. About twenty minutes later the brigadier appeared, and he looked displeased. The brigade was sent to complete the building of the thermal power plant, left since autumn. Tyurin distributed the work. Shukhov and the Lettish Kildigs got the job of laying the walls, as they were the best craftsmen in the brigade. Ivan Denisovich was an excellent bricklayer, the Latvian was a carpenter. But first, it was necessary to insulate the building where the men had to work and build an oven. Shukhov and Kildigs went to the other end of the yard to fetch a roll of roofing paper. With this material they were going to close up holes in the windows. Tol had to be carried into the building of the thermal power plant secretly from the foreman and informers who monitored the plundering of building materials. The men placed the roll upright and, pressing it tightly with their bodies, carried it into the building. The work was in full swing harmoniously, each prisoner worked with the thought that the more the brigade did, each member of it would receive more rations. Tyurin was a strict but fair foreman, under his leadership everyone received a well-deserved piece of bread.

Closer to dinner, the stove was built, the windows were filled with roofing paper, and some of the workers even sat down to rest and warm their chilled hands by the hearth. The men began to tease Shukhov that he had almost one foot free. He was given a term of ten years. He has already served eight of them. Many comrades of Ivan Denisovich had to sit for another twenty-five years.

Memories of the past

Shukhov began to remember how it all happened to him. He sat for treason. In February 1942, their entire army in the North-West was surrounded. Ammunition and food ran out. So the Germans began to catch all of them in the forests. And Ivan Denisovich was caught. He stayed in captivity for a couple of days - five of them fled with their comrades. When they reached their own, the submachine gunner killed three of them with a rifle. Shukhov and his comrade survived, so they were immediately recorded as German spies. Then they beat me for a long time in counterintelligence, forced me to sign all the papers. If he hadn't signed, they would have been killed altogether. Ivan Denisovich managed to visit several camps already. The previous ones were not of a strict regime, but it was even harder to live there. At a logging site, for example, they were forced to finish their daily quota at night. So everything is not so bad here, Shukhov reasoned. To which one of his comrades Fetyukov objected that people were being slaughtered in this camp. So here it is clearly no better than in residential camps. Indeed, lately two informers and one poor hard worker were slaughtered in the camp, apparently confusing the sleeping place. Strange things began to happen.

Dinner of prisoners

Suddenly, the prisoners heard a whistle - a power train, which means it's time for dinner. Deputy foreman Pavlo called Shukhov and the youngest in the brigade, Gopchik, to take their places in the dining room.

The dining room at the factory was a roughly knocked together wooden building without a floor, divided into two parts. In one, the cook cooked porridge, in the other, the convicts dined. Fifty grams of cereals were allocated per prisoner per day. But there were a lot of privileged categories who got a double portion: foremen, office workers, sixes, a medical instructor who oversaw the preparation of food. As a result, the convicts got very small portions, barely covering the bottom of the bowls. Shukhov was lucky that day. Counting the number of servings for the brigade, the cook hesitated. Ivan Denisovich, who helped Pavel count the bowls, called the wrong number. The cook got confused, and miscalculated. As a result, the brigade got two extra portions. But only the foreman had to decide who would get them. Shukhov in his heart hoped that he. In the absence of Tyurin, who was in the office, Pavlo commanded. He gave one portion to Shukhov, and the other to Buinovsky, who had lost a lot in the last month.

After eating, Ivan Denisovich went to the office - carried porridge to another member of the brigade who worked there. It was a film director named Caesar, he was a Muscovite, a rich intellectual and never went to the outfits. Shukhov found him smoking a pipe and talking about art with some old man. Caesar took the porridge and continued the conversation. And Shukhov returned to the thermal power plant.

Memoirs of Tyurin

The brigadier was already there. He had knocked out good rations for his boys for the week and was in a cheerful mood. The usually silent Tyurin began to recall his former life. He remembered how he was expelled in the thirtieth year from the ranks of the Red Army because his father was a kulak. How he got home on the chaise longue, but he no longer found his father, how he managed to escape from his home at night with his little brother. He gave that boy to the thieves in a gang and never saw him again after that.

The convicts listened to him attentively with respect, but it was time to get to work. They started working even before the bell rang, because before lunch they were busy arranging their workplace, but they hadn’t done anything for the norm yet. Tyurin decided that Shukhov would lay one wall with a cinder block, and he enrolled the friendly deaf Senka Klevshin as his apprentice. They said that that Klevshin escaped from captivity three times, and even Buchenwald passed. The brigadier himself undertook to lay the second wall together with Kildigs. In the cold, the solution quickly solidified, so it was necessary to lay the cinder block quickly. The spirit of rivalry so captured the men that the rest of the team barely had time to bring them the solution.

This is how the 104th brigade began to work, which they barely managed to count at the gate, which is carried out at the end of the working day. Everyone was again lined up in fives and began to count with the gates closed. The second time they had to recalculate already with the open. There were supposed to be four hundred and sixty-three convicts at the facility. But after three recalculations, it turned out only four hundred and sixty-two. The convoy ordered everyone to line up in brigades. It turned out that there is not enough Moldavian from thirty-second. It was rumored that, unlike many other prisoners, he was a real spy. The foreman and assistant rushed to the object to look for the missing person, all the rest stood in the bitter cold, overwhelmed by anger at the Moldavian. It became clear that the evening was gone - nothing could be done on the territory before lights out. And there was still a long way to go to the barracks. But three figures appeared in the distance. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief - they found it.

It turns out that the missing man was hiding from the foreman and fell asleep on the scaffolding. The convicts began to vilify the Moldavian for what the world stands, but quickly calmed down, everyone already wanted to leave the industrial zone.

Hacksaw hidden in the sleeve

Just before the shmon on the watch, Ivan Denisovich agreed with the director Caesar that he would go and take a turn for him in the parcel room. Caesar was from the rich - he received parcels twice a month. Shukhov hoped that for his service the young man would give him something to eat or smoke. Just before the search, Shukhov, out of habit, examined all his pockets, although he was not going to carry anything forbidden today. Suddenly, in a pocket on his knee, he found a piece of a hacksaw, which he picked up in the snow at a construction site. He completely forgot about the find in his working fuse. And now it was a pity to throw a hacksaw. She could bring him a salary or ten days in a punishment cell, if found. At his own peril and risk, he hid the hacksaw in his mitten. And here Ivan Denisovich was lucky. The guard who was inspecting him was distracted. Before that, he managed to squeeze only one mitten, and did not finish the second. Happy Shukhov rushed to catch up with his people.

Dinner in the zone

Having passed through all the numerous gates, the convicts finally felt like "free people" - everyone rushed to do their own thing. Shukhov ran to the queue for parcels. He himself did not receive parcels - he forbade his wife to tear them away from the children. But still, his heart ached when a parcel came to one of the neighbors in the barracks. About ten minutes later, Caesar appeared and allowed Shukhov to eat his dinner, while he himself took his place in line.

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Inspired, Ivan Denisovich rushed into the dining room.
There, after the ritual of searching for free trays and places at the tables, the 104th finally sat down to supper. The hot gruel pleasantly warmed the chilled bodies from the inside. Shukhov thought about what a good day it was - two portions at lunch, two in the evening. I didn’t eat the bread - I decided to hide it, I also took Caesar’s rations with me. And after dinner, he rushed to the seventh barracks, he himself lived in the ninth, to buy self-garden from a Latvian. Having carefully fished out two rubles from under the lining of his quilted jacket, Ivan Denisovich paid for the tobacco. After that, he hurriedly ran home. Caesar was already in the barracks. The dizzying smells of sausage and smoked fish wafted around his bunk. Shukhov did not stare at the gifts, but politely offered the director his ration of bread. But Caesar did not take the ration. Shukhov never dreamed of more. He crawled upstairs to his bunk to have time to hide the hacksaw before the evening formation. Caesar invited Buinovsky to tea, he felt sorry for the goner. They were sitting happily eating sandwiches when they came for the former hero. They did not forgive him for his morning trick - Captain Buinovsky went to the punishment cell for ten days. And then came the test. And Caesar did not have time to hand over his products to the storage room by the beginning of the check. Now he had two left to go out - either they would be taken away during the recount, or they would be kidnapped from the bed if he left. Shukhov felt sorry for the intellectual, so he whispered to him that Caesar was the last one to come out for the recount, and he would rush in the forefront, so they would guard the gifts in turn.

Labor Reward

Everything worked out for the best. The delicacies of the capital remained untouched. And Ivan Denisovich received for his labors several cigarettes, a couple of cookies and one circle of sausage. He shared the cookies with the Baptist Alyosha, who was his bunk neighbor, and ate the sausage himself. It was pleasant in Shukhov's mouth from the meat. Smiling, Ivan Denisovich thanked God for another day lived. Today, everything turned out well for him - the disease did not bring him down, he did not end up in the punishment cell, he got hold of soldering, managed to buy self-garden. It was a good day. And in total, Ivan Denisovich had three thousand six hundred and fifty three such days ...

At five o'clock in the morning, as always, the rise struck - with a hammer on the rail at
headquarters barracks. An intermittent ringing faintly passed through the panes frozen in
two fingers, and soon calmed down: it was cold, and the warder was reluctant for a long time
wave your hand.
The ringing subsided, and outside the window everything was the same as in the middle of the night when Shukhov got up.
to the bucket, there was darkness and darkness, but three yellow lanterns fell through the window: two - on
zone, one inside the camp.
And the barracks didn’t go to unlock something, and it wasn’t heard that the orderlies
they took the shack barrel on sticks - to take it out.
Shukhov never slept through the rise, he always got up on it - before the divorce
it was an hour and a half of his time, not official, and who knows camp life,
can always earn extra money: sewing a cover for someone from an old lining
mittens; give the rich brigadier dry felt boots right on the bed, so that he
barefoot do not stomp around the heap, do not choose; or run through the storerooms,
where someone needs to be served, sweep or bring something; or go to
the dining room to collect bowls from the tables and carry them in slides into the dishwasher - also
they will feed them, but there are many hunters there, there is no lights out, and most importantly - if there is anything in the bowl
left, you can’t resist, you start licking bowls. And Shukhov was strongly remembered
the words of his first foreman KuzЈmin - the old one was a camp wolf, he sat by
nine hundred and forty-three is already twelve years old and its replenishment,
brought from the front, once on a bare clearing by the fire he said:
- Here, guys, the law is the taiga. But people live here too. Here in the camp
who dies: who licks bowls, who hopes for the medical unit, and who goes to godfather1
knock.
As for the godfather - this, of course, he turned down. They save themselves. Only
their protection is on someone else's blood.
Shukhov always got up on his way up, but today he didn't get up. Since the evening he
it was not on its own, it was either shivering, or breaking. And didn't get warm at night. Through a dream
it seemed that he seemed to be completely ill, then he went away a little. All did not want
to morning.
But the morning came as usual.
Yes, and where can you get warm here - there is frost on the window, and on the walls along
junction with the ceiling throughout the hut - a healthy hut! - white gossamer. Frost.
Shukhov did not get up. He was lying on top of the lining, covering his head
a blanket and a pea jacket, and in a padded jacket, in one tucked-up sleeve, putting both
feet together. He did not see, but by the sounds he understood everything that was being done in the barracks
and in their brigade corner. Here, stepping heavily along the corridor, the orderlies carried
one of the eight bucket buckets. It is considered disabled, easy work, come on,
go take it out, don't spill it! Here in the 75th brigade they slammed a bunch of felt boots from

Dryers. And here - and in ours (and ours today was the turn of felt boots to dry).
The foreman and pom foreman put on their shoes in silence, and the lining creaks. Pombrigadier
now he will go to the bread slicer, and the foreman - to the headquarters barracks, to workmen.
Yes, not just to workmen, as he goes every day, - Shukhov remembered:
today fate is being decided - they want to fug their 104th brigade from construction
workshops for the new facility "Sotsbytgorodok".

The story "One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich" Solzhenitsyn wrote in 1959. The work was first published in 1962 in the Novy Mir magazine. The story brought Solzhenitsyn world fame and, according to researchers, influenced not only literature, but also the history of the USSR. The original author's title of the work is the story "Sch-854" (the serial number of the main character Shukhov in the correctional camp).

main characters

Shukhov Ivan Denisovich- a prisoner of a forced labor camp, a bricklayer, his wife and two daughters are waiting for him “outside”.

Caesar- a prisoner, "either he is a Greek, or a Jew, or a gypsy", before the camps "made pictures for movies".

Other heroes

Tyurin Andrei Prokofievich- Brigadier of the 104th prison brigade. He was "dismissed from the ranks" of the army and ended up in a camp for being the son of a "fist". Shukhov had known him since the camp in Ust-Izhma.

Kildigs Jan– a prisoner who was given 25 years; Latvian, a good carpenter.

Fetyukov- "jackal", a prisoner.

Alyoshka- Prisoner, Baptist.

Gopchik- a prisoner, cunning, but harmless boy.

"At five o'clock in the morning, as always, the rise struck - with a hammer on the rail at the headquarters barracks." Shukhov never slept through the rise, but today he was "shivering" and "breaking". Due to the fact that the man did not get up for a long time, he was taken to the commandant's office. Shukhov was threatened with a punishment cell, but he was punished only by mopping the floors.

For breakfast in the camp there was a gruel (liquid stew) made from fish and black cabbage and magar porridge. The prisoners slowly ate the fish, spit out the bones on the table, and then brushed them to the floor.

After breakfast Shukhov went to the medical unit. A young paramedic, who was in fact a former student of a literary institute, but ended up in the medical unit under the patronage of a doctor, gave the man a thermometer. Showed 37.2. The paramedic suggested that Shukhov "stay at his own peril" - wait for the doctor, but advised him to go to work anyway.

Shukhov went into the barracks for rations: bread and sugar. The man divided the bread into two parts. I hid one under a padded jacket, and the second in a mattress. The Baptist Alyoshka read the Gospel right there. The guy “throws his little book so deftly into a crack in the wall - they haven’t found it on a single search yet.”

The brigade went outside. Fetyukov tried to beg Caesar to “sip” a cigarette, but Caesar was more willing to share it with Shukhov. During the “search”, the prisoners were forced to unbutton their clothes: they checked if anyone had hidden a knife, food, letters. People froze: “the cold has come under the shirt, now you can’t kick it out.” The column of prisoners moved. “Due to the fact that he had breakfast without rations and that he ate everything cold, Shukhov felt unsatisfied today.”

“The new year, the fifty-first, has begun, and Shukhov had the right to two letters in it.” “Shukhov left the house on June 23, 1941. On Sunday, the people from Polomnia came from mass and said: war. Shukhov's family was waiting for him at home. His wife hoped that upon returning home, her husband would take up a profitable business, build a new house.

Shukhov and Kildigs were the first craftsmen in the brigade. They were sent to insulate the engine room and lay walls with cinder blocks at the thermal power plant.

One of the prisoners, Gopchik, reminded Ivan Denisovich of his late son. Gopchik was imprisoned "for carrying milk to the Bendera people in the forest."

Ivan Denisovich has almost served his term. In February 1942, “in the North-Western they surrounded their entire army, and they didn’t throw anything to eat from the planes, and there were no planes either. They got to the point that they hoofed horses that had died. ” Shukhov was captured, but soon escaped. However, “their own”, having learned about the captivity, decided that Shukhov and other soldiers were “fascist agents”. It was believed that he sat down "for treason": he surrendered to German captivity, and then returned "because he was carrying out the task of German intelligence. What a task - neither Shukhov himself could come up with, nor the investigator.

Lunch break. The hard workers were not given food, the “sixes” got a lot, the cook took the good food. Lunch was oatmeal. It was believed that this was the "best porridge" and Shukhov even managed to deceive the cook and take two servings for himself. On the way to the construction site, Ivan Denisovich picked up a piece of steel hacksaw.

The 104th brigade was "like a big family". Work began to boil again: cinder blocks were laid on the second floor of the CHPP. They worked until sunset. The brigadier, jokingly, noted the good work of Shukhov: “Well, how can they let you go free? Without you, the prison will cry!

The prisoners returned to the camp. The men were again "scrambled", checking if they had taken anything from the construction site. Suddenly, Shukhov felt in his pocket for a piece of a hacksaw, which he had already forgotten about. You could make a shoe knife out of it and exchange it for food. Shukhov hid the hacksaw in a mitten and miraculously passed the test.

Shukhov took Caesar a place in the queue to receive the package. Ivan Denisovich himself did not receive parcels: he asked his wife not to take away from the children. In gratitude, Caesar gave Shukhov his dinner. In the dining room they again gave the gruel. Drinking hot slurry, the man felt good: "Here it is, a short moment, for which the prisoner lives!"

Shukhov earned money "from private work" - he would sew slippers for someone, he would sew a quilted jacket for someone. With the proceeds, he could buy tobacco and other necessary things. When Ivan Denisovich returned to his barracks, Tsezar was already "tagging over the parcel" and gave Shukhov also his ration of bread.

Caesar asked Shukhov for a knife and "again he owed Shukhov." The check has begun. Ivan Denisovich, realizing that during the check, Caesar's parcel could be stolen, said that he pretended to be sick and left last, while Shukhov would try to be the first to run after the check and follow the food. In gratitude, Caesar gave him "two biscuits, two pieces of sugar and one round slice of sausage".

We talked with Alyosha about God. The guy talked about the need to pray and rejoice that you are in prison: “here you have time to think about your soul.” Shukhov stared silently at the ceiling. He himself did not know whether he wanted freedom or not.

“Shukhov fell asleep, completely satisfied” “They didn’t put him in the punishment cell, they didn’t send the brigade to the Sotsgorodok, at lunch he mowed down the porridge, the brigadier closed the percentage well, Shukhov laid the wall cheerfully, didn’t get caught with a hacksaw on a shmon, worked part-time at Caesar and bought tobacco. And I didn’t get sick, I got over it. ”

“The day passed, nothing marred, almost happy.

There were three thousand six hundred and fifty three such days in his term from bell to bell.

Due to leap years, three extra days were added ... "

Conclusion

In the story One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich, Alexander Solzhenitsyn depicted the life of people who ended up in the forced labor camps of the Gulag. The central theme of the work, according to Tvardovsky's definition, is the victory of the human spirit over camp violence. Despite the fact that the camp was actually created to destroy the identity of the prisoners, Shukhov, like many others, manages to constantly wage an internal struggle, to remain human even in such difficult circumstances.

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One day Ivan Denisovich

At five o'clock in the morning, as always, the rise struck - with a hammer on the rail at the headquarters barracks. The intermittent ringing faintly passed through the panes, which were frozen two fingers deep, and soon died down: it was cold, and the warder was reluctant to wave his hand for a long time.

The ringing subsided, and outside the window everything was the same as in the middle of the night, when Shukhov got up to the bucket, there was darkness and darkness, but three yellow lanterns fell through the window: two - in the zone, one - inside the camp.

And the barracks didn’t go to unlock something, and it was not heard that the orderlies took the vat barrel on sticks - to take it out.

Shukhov never slept through the rise, he always got up on it - before the divorce there was an hour and a half of his time, not official, and whoever knows the camp life can always earn extra money: sewing a cover for mittens from an old lining; give a rich brigadier dry felt boots directly to the bed, so that he does not trample barefoot around the heap, do not choose; or run through the supply rooms, where you need to serve someone, sweep or bring something; or go to the dining room to collect bowls from the tables and carry them in slides into the dishwasher - they will also feed them, but there are many hunters there, there is no lights out, and most importantly - if there is anything left in the bowl, you can’t resist, you start licking the bowls. And Shukhov firmly remembered the words of his first foreman Kuzemin - the old one was a camp wolf, he had been sitting for twelve years by the year 943, and he once said to his replenishment, brought from the front, in a bare clearing by the fire:

- Here, guys, the law is the taiga. But people live here too. In the camp, this is who dies: who licks bowls, who hopes for the medical unit, and who kumu goes knocking.

As for the godfather - this, of course, he turned down. They save themselves. Only their protection is on someone else's blood.

Shukhov always got up when he got up, but today he didn't get up. Since the evening he had been uneasy, either shivering, or broken. And didn't get warm at night. Through a dream it seemed that he seemed to be completely ill, then he was leaving a little. I didn't want it to be morning.

But the morning came as usual.

Yes, and where can you get warm - there is frost on the window, and on the walls along the junction with the ceiling throughout the barrack - a healthy barrack! - white gossamer. Frost.

Shukhov did not get up. He lay on top lining, covering his head with a blanket and a pea jacket, and in a padded jacket, in one tucked up sleeve, putting both feet together. He did not see, but from the sounds he understood everything that was going on in the barracks and in their brigade corner. Here, stepping heavily along the corridor, the orderlies carried one of the eight-bucket buckets. It is considered a disabled person, easy work, but come on, take it out, don’t spill it! Here, in the 75th brigade, a bunch of felt boots from the dryer slammed on the floor. And here - in ours (and ours today was the turn of felt boots to dry). The foreman and pom foreman put on their shoes in silence, and the lining creaks. The foreman will now go to the bread slicer, and the foreman will go to the headquarters barracks, to workmen.

Yes, not just to the contractors, as he goes every day, - Shukhov remembered: today the fate is being decided - they want to fug their 104th brigade from the construction of workshops to the new Sotsgorodok facility. And that Sotsgorodok is a bare field, covered in snowy ridges, and before doing anything there, you have to dig holes, put up poles and pull barbed wire from yourself - so as not to run away. And then build.

There, sure enough, there will be nowhere to warm up for a month - not a kennel. And you can’t make a fire - how to heat it? Work hard on the conscience - one salvation.

The foreman is concerned, he is going to settle. Some other brigade, sluggish, to push there instead of yourself. Of course, you can't come to an agreement with empty hands. Half a kilo of fat to the senior worker to bear. And even a kilogram.

The test is not a loss, do not try it in the medical unit squint to be freed from work for a day? Well, just the whole body separates.

And one more thing - which of the guards is on duty today?

On duty - he remembered - Ivan and a half, a thin and long black-eyed sergeant. The first time you look, it’s downright scary, but they recognized him as the most accommodating of all the duty officers: he doesn’t put him in a punishment cell, he doesn’t drag him to the head of the regime. So you can lie down, as long as the ninth hut is in the dining room.

The carriage shook and swayed. Two people got up at once: upstairs was Shukhov's neighbor Baptist Alyoshka, and downstairs was Buinovsky, a former captain of the second rank, captain.

The old orderly men, having taken out both buckets, scolded who should go for boiling water. They scolded affectionately, like women. An electric welder from the 20th brigade barked:

- Hey, wicks!- and launched a felt boot at them. - I'll make peace!

The felt boot thudded against the pole. They fell silent.

In the neighboring brigade, the pom-brigade leader murmured a little:

- Vasil Fedorych! They shuddered in the prodstole, bastards: there were four nine hundred, and there were only three. Who is missing?

He said it quietly, but of course the whole brigade heard it and hid: they would cut off a piece from someone in the evening.

And Shukhov lay and lay on the compressed sawdust of his mattress. At least one side took it - either it would have scored in a chill, or the aches had passed. And neither.

While the Baptist was whispering prayers, Buinovsky returned from the breeze and announced to no one, but as if maliciously:

- Well, hold on, Red Navy men! Thirty degrees true!

And Shukhov decided to go to the medical unit.

And then someone's powerful hand pulled off his quilted jacket and blanket. Shukhov threw off his pea coat from his face and stood up. Beneath him, his head level with the top bunk of the lining, stood a thin Tatar.

It means that he was not on duty in the queue and crept quietly.

“Eight hundred and fifty-four!” - Read the Tatar from a white patch on the back of a black pea jacket. – Three days kondeya with a conclusion!

And as soon as his special choked voice was heard, as in the whole half-dark barracks, where not every light bulb was on, where two hundred people were sleeping on fifty stinky wagons, everyone who had not yet got up immediately began to turn and hastily dress.

- Why, Citizen Chief? Shukhov asked, giving his voice more pity than he felt.

With the conclusion to work - this is still half a punishment cell, and they will give you hot, and there is no time to think. A complete punishment cell is when no output.

- Didn't get up on the rise? Let's go to the commandant's office, - Tatarin explained lazily, because it was clear to him, and Shukhov, and everyone what the conde was for.

On the hairless wrinkled face of the Tatar, nothing was expressed. He turned around, looking for someone else, but everyone already, some in semi-darkness, some under a light bulb, on the first floor of the wagons and on the second, pushed their legs into black wadded trousers with numbers on the left knee, or, already dressed, wrapped themselves up and hurried to the exit - wait out Tatarin in the yard.

If Shukhov had been given a punishment cell for something else, where he deserved it, it would not have been so insulting. It was a shame that he always got up first. But it was impossible to ask Tatarin for leave, he knew. And, continuing to ask for time off just for the sake of order, Shukhov, as he was in wadded trousers, not taken off at night (a worn, dirty patch was also sewn above their left knee, and the number Shch-854 was drawn on it with black, already faded paint), put on a padded jacket (she had two such numbers - one on her chest and one on her back), chose his felt boots from a pile on the floor, put on a hat (with the same patch and number in front) and went out after Tatarin.