A Veteran's Tale

Svetlana Pavlovna Voronova, now 80, didn’t have friends in high places in the winter of 1942, and, considering the enormous risks of interfering with the proceedings in a Soviet tribunal, it would probably not have helped. What saved Voronova’s life was the loyalty of a handful of wounded Soviet soldiers whom she had befriended in the crowded wards of one of Moscow’s biggest military hospitals. Because of her dedication and big heart, they said, “The authorities be damned.” After all, she had dressed their wounds, read to them, sang songs with them; she had given them solace. She wrote letters for them or attempted to contact their relatives and friends as best as she was able in the confusion of the Nazi siege of the capital. Now it was their turn to come to her aid.

The Beginning

To say the least, Voronova was an overachiever. At the tender age of 24, she had achieved the unlikely rank of Lieutenant-Colonel in the Soviet Army.

Her path to greatness began with her enlistment at age 20. Having finished her schooling in the late 1930s, she searched for a calling. By 1938, as Stalin reassured his comrades that Russia was safe from the Nazi build-up, the young Svetlana said she felt otherwise. She watched and read and listened. What she came to believe was that her motherland was in danger, if not sooner, then later. She decided that she would “join up.”

Almost immediately, she found herself involved in Soviet intelligence (the NKVD). Her superior school record, keen intellect and language skills (she speaks German and Spanish, along with her native Russian) caught the attention of higher-ups. She also admitted that her beauty didn’t hurt her advancement potential. Russian leaders are, after all, still men.

The young lieutenant was quickly recognized as an efficient, thorough investigator. Her intuitive skills and quick mind brought her to the attention of a group of Soviet intelligence experts who sent her to the battle front. There, her army unit came under heavy attack. She fought alongside her comrades with great courage.

“There was none of the fuss you Americans make about girls in battle,” she said. “It was fight or be killed. You picked up a rifle and shot as fast as you could reload. Sometimes I just picked up the rifle of the person who had been killed next to me. There was no thought of doing otherwise. It was brutal ... bloody.”

Voronova added that at no time did anyone ask or care who she was or where she came from. “They only cared about one thing. ‘Can you shoot?’ I could.”

The Middle

Several battlefield promotions followed. Within days, her fortitude, courage and her seniority (literally her longevity), had gotten her promoted first to Captain, then Major and finally, after a year, to Lieutenant-Colonel. Unlikely? Of course. But these were unusual times. Dead leaders were quickly replaced by surviving underlings. And many died.

After being wounded in battle, Voronova was evacuated to a Moscow-area hospital. She again pitched in, helping with the more seriously wounded. Still not fully recovered, she volunteered to take on a seemingly simple task: to deliver a truckload of blood donations to a local military airfield, for shipment to the front. She waited two days before receiving word that the blood was packed and ready and that a plane was on its way to meet her. Time was critical; blood storage in those days was limited to three days before it became spoiled.

Finally, the word came down that she had to be at the airport at three in the morning, no matter what. The young and energetic Lieutenant-Colonel ordered her platoon to split into two groups. One was to meet the aircraft, have it fueled and ready and guarded. The other group went with her to the hospital to pick up the valuable cargo for its early morning trip through the darkened, ice-covered streets of the war-torn Soviet capital.

At the hospital, everything was ready and she even had time for a cup of hot coffee with some of her old friends. Although Moscow was under Nazi siege, the trip to the airfield went quickly and without event. The surprise was at the secret military airfield. Where the plane should have been parked there was only an empty hanger and her very confused compatriots. While she and everyone else had heard the rumors that Nazis were posing as Soviet army officers, she had not found anyone who had actually seen them. The rumors turned out to be well-founded.

The now 25 year-old, battle hardened and decorated woman-soldier learned that, earlier that morning “Russian officers” had appeared at the doors to the hanger, produced papers that authorized them to take the plane, ostensibly to another airfield for a different purpose and had disappeared into the morning darkness.

“Uncle Joe is not going to be pleased,” thought the young soldiers. “Not pleased” was an understatement

As quickly as it was determined that the pilots were impostors, actually Nazis who were planning to use the plane for their own needs, a Soviet General ordered all involved, including Voronova, arrested and shot. Within hours, her four young Soviet conscripts were marched out onto the tarmac and executed. Only because she was an officer and was able to convince her captors that she was not present at the airfield during the heist, was she temporarily spared. She was only promised a quick hearing the next day and most likely, a similar fate.

Incredibly, word got back to the veteran’s ward at her hospital. The next day, the Military Court Officer-in-Charge found the room filled wall-to-wall with invalids and other injured soldiers. They interrupted the proceedings shouting, “If you’re going to shoot Svetlana, they you’re going to have to shoot us too.”

A Happy Ending

The hearing had a happy ending. As unlikely as it seemed, Voronova got off with a one-step reduction in rank. She was to serve out the war and her military career in menial jobs without consideration for promotion. Still, it was her life, and jobs were scarce. She did not complain then and does not now. She only smiles proudly, hesitates as the photographer readies the camera, quickly checks her make-up and stands tall and straight.

Today, Major Svetlana Pavlovna Voronova spends her days surviving in post-Soviet Russia. It’s a difficult pill to swallow, these inflationary times. Especially after a decorated, but lightly stained, military career.

Does she have regrets? “I regret that the Soviet dream died,” she said. “I regret that my friends are no longer here to share my retirement years with me. I don’t regret what I did. This is my homeland, my reason for being.”

This stoic woman stands as tall as ever. She proudly walks around Moscow’s Gorky Park on major holidays in her slightly tattered, 50-year-old Soviet Army uniform, dripping with her medals for service and bravery. She’s a shade over 5’10” and a little heavier than in her prime. But her dark hair is only slightly graying, her skin still has a youthful appearance, her positive attitude is contagious and her eyes are as blue as ever. And there’s her smile. You must see it.