Stefania was the youngest daughter of Matvey Yegorych Patkin. Matvey already had six adult sons, and even grandchildren. And then came the “last one,” a girl…
Nina Patkina didn’t realize right away that she was pregnant. She had thought she was past her prime as a woman when her period stopped coming, and she wasn’t especially upset. They were just an inconvenience anyway—and it was fine if that chapter of life was over.
But then she started feeling dizzy, her legs swelled badly, and her belly grew—was it going to be like this forever? Just like pregnancy. But was it even possible at her age?
Worried, Nina went to the local healer. She explained her symptoms and asked for a proper remedy to get rid of the nausea and ease the belly.
“Remedy? You need to give birth!” the healer exclaimed after examining Nina. “You’ll have a baby for Matvey—that’ll be a joy in his old age. Nina, why didn’t you realize you were with child? You’ve already had six. Or has it been so long that you forgot what it’s like?”
Surprised by his words, Nina went home and told her husband they were expecting a baby. Matvey laughed loudly, filling the whole house—he had not expected such a “surprise.”
“Well, there’s still some powder left in the powder horn!” he chuckled.
This pregnancy was unlike the others. Those were hard times; women worked right up until giving birth. And after delivering, they barely had time to recover before going back to work. The men didn’t show much care—it wasn’t the time for tenderness when they had their own worries.
Nina had borne six sons for Matvey and had never received much sympathy or care from her husband while pregnant or raising small children. The man worked himself to the bone—how could he think about his wife when she was fulfilling her role?
But now something seemed to have changed. Matvey wanted to pamper and care for his wife. He worried because she was no longer young. Her step became heavier, and sometimes she’d pause as if listening to pain. How would she handle childbirth? Would she survive?
They had lived hand in hand for so many years, but now he feared losing her. In the evenings, he even did some of the women’s work and forbade his wife from lifting heavy things.
They awaited the last child with pleasant anticipation and joy. Matvey loved all his children, but he thought of none with such tenderness as the baby about to be born.
Matvey would never have thought to stick his nose into the room where his wife was giving birth. But this time he did not leave the door while Galya, the midwife, tended to Nina. When he heard his wife’s cries, he tried to enter, as if he could help her somehow.
“Get out of here, Matvey! You have nothing to do here!” Galya scolded sharply. “Women are fine without you, and they’ll still worry about you!”
“But I want to help my dear,” Matvey said timidly, which was unusual for a man who never shied away from anything.
“What can you help with?” the midwife snapped with some contempt. “You’ve already helped enough. The woman has already raised grandchildren, and you can’t leave her alone. Get out.”
Another time, Matvey would have fired a sharp retort back at the sharp-tongued Galya, but this time he kept silent and obeyed. The midwife was the main person now—it depended on her how Nina’s delivery would go.
Hearing a baby cry, Matvey finally rushed into the room. He looked at his wife, made sure she was alive, and breathed out. Then he looked at the baby and stepped back.
“Why are you backing away from the child, fool?” Galya was outraged.
“Well, how could I not?” he looked at the newborn in surprise.
Galya laughed at the old man’s reaction. He had so many sons, it seemed he’d never seen a newborn girl.
“She’s a girl, you old rogue!” the midwife exclaimed.
Matvey didn’t understand at first what she meant. But when it dawned on him, he was ashamed to have shown himself a fool. He took the girl in his arms, and a tenderness arose inside him that was beyond words.
“Girl,” the father whispered over his daughter, “what a miracle—you with your gray hair have created such a wonder.”
Galya shook her head. Oh, men! Nina had carried the child for nine months and suffered through labor, and he called it a “miracle created”! The midwife smirked and headed for the door. But Matvey came to his senses and slipped some rubles into Galya’s pocket as thanks.
They wanted to name the girl after her grandmother, Alevtina. But another name stuck instead. She was very red-haired—her baby fuzz shimmered like copper. Nina’s sister Tamara came by, looked at the niece, and gasped.
“Oh, how ugly,” Tamara exclaimed, pressing her palms to her cheeks. “She looks just like our heifer Fanya—just as red.”
“Bah on you! What nonsense? She’s not ugly,” Matvey frowned. He thought his daughter was beautiful. “You just didn’t get the looks; my daughter will grow up to be beautiful. She’ll have suitors lined up. And I won’t give her away to just anyone! She’ll be an officer’s wife, a lady of importance, that’s for sure! Get out of here!”
Tamara left offended. She’d spoken the truth—that the Patkins’ daughter was ugly. Who gets offended by the truth? And Matvey even chased her away!
Although Tamara never appeared again at the Patkins’, the nickname she accidentally mentioned stuck. At first, the mother called her daughter Fanya a couple of times. Then the daughter-in-law came to help with the child and picked up the name. Matvey was angry at first but then called his daughter Fanya himself. So the girl was officially registered as Stefania, but everyone called her Fanya. The neighbors sometimes joked there were now two Fanyas in Velikanovo—only one walked on two legs, the other on four.
Though Matvey insisted his daughter would grow up beautiful, Fanya was not pretty as a child. Her red, coarse hair was braided into two tight plaits, revealing a large, somewhat elongated face. Bright freckles, annoyingly large, covered her face with awkward spots.
“Poor girl, who will marry her like that?” said Lida, the youngest daughter-in-law of the Patkins, once.
“And why wouldn’t someone marry her?” replied Varya, another daughter-in-law, older though. “They marry not to admire but to have a wife who can bear children and run the household.”
Nina did not support such talk. She loved her daughter but deep down understood few boys would swarm around her.
But Matvey categorically didn’t notice the freckles or awkward face. When he looked at his daughter, his heart skipped with pride, love, and admiration.
Meanwhile, Fanya grew up a real little devil. Kind and gentle—if treated kindly, she wouldn’t hurt a fly. She knew how to handle animals and wouldn’t approach even the geese without a kind word. But if someone tried to mock or pick on her, she never forgave the offenders.
Being small and nimble, she even dared to attack those taller and stronger than her and beat them mercilessly. When the attacker realized it was time to punish the freckled fighter, she was already up a tree. Like a monkey, she climbed swiftly up a tall apple tree and threw large, hard apples at them.
Even as she grew older, Fanya did not calm down. She was a good friend but never forgave teasing or insults. Especially when teased about her red hair and freckles. As she got older, it turned out she had not only strong fists and fast legs but also a sharp tongue. If she gave someone an unflattering nickname, it stuck.
Because of this, some of her tormentors didn’t like Fanya much and avoided her.
1941
Fanya had grown up; she was sixteen then. Around her, suitors circled her girlfriends, but Fanya seemed unnoticed. Yet the girl was not upset. Her father always told her she was beautiful and would marry a brave officer. So she had no doubts she was pretty and that all the love was still ahead.
“But where will I find this officer?” Fanya sometimes wondered, seeing how her friends walked arm in arm with village boys.
The girls laughed at Fanya’s thoughts. What officer for someone with her “beauty”?
Soon terrible news shook the village and the whole country. The Great Patriotic War began. Fanya saw dozens of villagers sent to the front—her friends, their brothers, fathers…
Two of Matvey Patkin’s youngest sons went to fight the Germans. The other four held positions in the kolkhoz, and one brother was a teacher, so they had some protection. Mother and father sent off their adult children with tears in their eyes. The little sister was always nearby, poking her freckled nose into everything.
Worrying about his sons, Matvey seemed to overlook what was going on with his daughter. She went around the neighbors who received letters from the front and talked with the wives of her brothers. A year later, she said something to her father that left him speechless.
“I’m leaving, Papa, I’m going to study!”
“Where are you planning to go, dear?”
“To the military district. I’m going to train as a medic! When I finish, I’ll be saving our soldiers.”
Matvey grabbed his head. What was his daughter thinking? He hugged her and said he wouldn’t let her go anywhere. She was only seventeen.
“They take them at sixteen to a special school in the military district,” Fanya said softly, “and once I finish, I won’t be far from eighteen.”
Her father hoped to dissuade her and was ready to hold her by force if needed. Fanya understood this, so one night she ran away from her parents’ home. She traveled partly by train, partly by connections—she had long made plans and asked around. Along the way, her sharp mind and conversational skills helped her. When people found out she was going to study to be a medic, they helped her.
“Who are you and where are you from?” asked the training section chief, surprised by the freckled girl.
“From Velikanovo,” the girl answered proudly, “Stefania Matveyevna Patkina. But everyone calls me Fanya.”
“And what do you want, Stefania Matveyevna?” the chief raised his eyebrows mockingly. She was an unusual guest but somehow he liked her.
“I want to study,” Fanya said confidently, “and then I will help our soldiers. Don’t look at my height—I’m strong! And I think fast. I will find wounded soldiers, carry them off the battlefield—I won’t be shy about washing and shaving them.”
The chief shook his head, hiding a smile. Such a little thing, but so brave! He thought for a second, then told her she was accepted. He ordered his subordinates to take Fanya where she needed to go and include her in the student list.
Before the war, the training course lasted a whole year but was shortened to two months during wartime. Fanya was a diligent student, listened and memorized everything. She showed brilliant success during practical exercises. She was praised as a natural nurse.
Time flew by, and the day came when Fanya had to carry wounded soldiers on her back. She handled it no worse than others, though her thin shoulders were very young. She carried them without complaint and found a kind word for each fighter.
“Come on, drop me,” whispered a soldier she was carrying, “you won’t make it, you’re too small.”
“I’m not that small; you must have poor eyesight, soldier,” the girl replied briskly, still dragging the tall, strong man, “look how well I’m doing.”
“Let me go; I won’t live,” the soldier said, almost losing consciousness.
“What do you mean, won’t live?” Fanya was outraged. “I’m carrying you through the whole forest, and you’re ready to die? No way! Hang on, dear, soon you’ll be running on your own feet. Our doctors, you know, can pull you from the grave.”
The soldier Fanya carried was named Artemiy. As soon as he recovered and believed he would live, he wanted to see the girl who saved him.
“I don’t remember her face, only her lively voice,” Artemiy said, hoping someone would help find her.
“At least tell her name,” said an elderly nurse who was dressing his wounds, “otherwise, you’ll be looking for a long time.”
“I don’t know her name,” Artemiy said regretfully, “I only know she’s very small. I remember feeling her tiny back—I was afraid she’d break under my weight.”
“Small?” the nurse laughed. “That’s Fanya. She won’t let anyone die. While she’s carrying them, her mouth doesn’t stop—she can both cuddle and scold. She scared one soldier who was about to die so much he miraculously survived.”
“Sounds like her,” Artemiy laughed. “But how can I see her?”
“She’s not a nurse but a medic instructor. When battles are on, she’s rarely at the hospital. But maybe you’ll get lucky and meet your savior.”
When the soldier saw Fanya, he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She seemed so beautiful. Just her voice made him feel better, and the freckles on her face made his soul sing.
Artemiy was the first man to confess his love to Fanya. Back home, everyone just laughed at her and called her ugly. Here, she was an “angel guardian in a soldier’s coat.” After Artemiy, dozens of soldiers fell in love with her and proposed marriage. But Fanya wasn’t ready to open her heart to anyone.
How many boys were there whom the thin freckled girl carried off the battlefield? Sometimes she had to not only carry but find the missing. And here her sharp mind helped save more than one life.
Fanya saw a lot during the Great Patriotic War. Without hesitation, she went wherever help was needed. She saved people under the roar of cannon fire and constant bullets. Many things blurred in her mind—faces, orders, the smell of blood, groans, and German shelling.
But one day was special. A platoon was tasked with freeing a village from German troops.
The operation was successful. German soldiers were partly destroyed, partly captured. Later it was found that only one managed to hide.
Among Soviet soldiers, there were wounded. Fanya and her comrades provided aid on the spot. But no one saw the squad commander, Lieutenant Kapitsyn. It was strange because the assault began under his leadership.
When a house caught fire, Fanya guessed the commander was inside. Without hesitation, she rushed into the burning house. If she had stopped for a moment, it would have been too late. People could have stopped the reckless girl to prevent her from dying in the flames.
Fanya burst in thinking only of saving the commander. It turned out the Germans had struck him on the head and left him unconscious. The fragile girl miraculously managed to carry the commander out of the fire. A second later, the roof collapsed… They both were burned but survived.
Much later, Yegor Kapitsyn said that while unconscious, he felt great heat and heard a voice… gentle, ringing, feminine.
For Fanya, saving the commander was just another duty fulfilled. But Kapitsyn fell in love.
“Fanya, are you eighteen yet?” Yegor asked, pouring boiling water into tin mugs. He had managed to get a pack of cookies and immediately came to the girl with the treat.
“And you, Lieutenant, planning to marry?” Fanya asked cheerfully. She didn’t admit it to herself, but she liked Commander Kapitsyn. Oh, very much. She had never felt such excitement before.
“I would marry,” Yegor sighed, “but it’s not that simple…”
“Are you married?” Fanya frowned. Oh, how she would love to slap the commander now! He came with cookies, but his own family was somewhere waiting for him.
“No,” Kapitsyn shook his head, “I just have nowhere to bring a young wife.”
The commander told how the Germans had killed his whole family and burned his house.
“I have nowhere to go myself, let alone think of a family,” Yegor said sadly, “but when the war ends, I’ll find a way. If you agree to wait…”
“We won’t wait,” the girl said firmly, “we’ll get married now! And after we defeat the Germans, we’ll go to my village. The house is big there; there will be enough room for everyone.”
“So you want me to be a son-in-law?” Yegor frowned. “Your parents won’t respect me! And your brothers will mock us.”
“It’s shameful to be a fool, not a son-in-law,” Fanya retorted, raising her freckled nose, “so decide!”
And Yegor decided.
Yegor and Fanya married at the end of 1944, six months before the defeat of Hitler’s army. After the war, they went to Velikanovo. Fanya proudly introduced her husband-officer to her father and returning brothers.
“It turned out just like you said, Papa!” the girl exclaimed, throwing her arms around her father’s neck.
Matvey was happy for his daughter’s return. He looked at his freckled beauty with pride and admiration—she seemed even more beautiful despite the scars left by the fire on her left cheek and forearm. His heart skipped as he looked at Fanya’s medals and awards.
Matvey accepted Yegor into the family with respect. Like his daughter, he believed it wasn’t shameful to be a son-in-law if one had a head on his shoulders and hands that worked properly.
“My daughter showed them all,” the father thought, “she went through almost the whole war at the front and chose a worthy husband.”
Matvey proudly answered neighbors’ questions—everyone was very interested to know how Fanya was doing, the freckled, plain-tongued girl everyone remembered.
EPILOGUE
The young couple didn’t live long in the village. Yegor was an engineer by training. His profession could have found use in the village, but the Kapitsyns decided to move to the city. There they got an apartment; Yegor headed a shop at a machine-building factory, and Fanya worked at a hospital.
The Kapitsyns had two daughters and two sons, then grandchildren and great-grandchildren appeared. Nina and Matvey lived a long life, but since Fanya was a late child, they doted mostly on their first granddaughter. Fanya’s husband respected his in-laws greatly, considering them his second parents since he had lost his own long ago.
Fanya died in 2005, and her husband a year earlier. Their grandchildren know well the story of their grandmother and grandfather’s love. And the stories of what Grandma Fanya was like in childhood and youth were often told by her daughter to the grandchildren—especially to Katyusha, who took after her great-grandmother entirely—just as red-haired, freckled, small, and brave!