Boris Balter, a famous Russian writer, was born in 1919 in Samarkand (Uzbekistan). His father Isaak was a hero of the Russo-Japanese War of 1904-1905. In 1912, Isaak managed to protect his community from the pogroms that had broken out in Kiev, where he was living at the time. According to Balter’s relatives, he confronted the pogromists, dressed in his military uniform, sporting all his medals, and brandishing a saber. This display deterred the thugs from entering the Jewish houses. As a token of their gratitude, one of the families saved by Isaak Balter decided to offer him their young daughter Sofia's hand in marriage, even though he was more than thirty years her senior. The couple went on to have three children, but Sofia Balter was devoted to revolutionary ideas, and tended to neglect her family.
After the birth of Boris, his youngest son, Isaak Balter passed away. At that time, the family lived in Uzbekistan. Following his death, they relocated first to Zaporozhe (Ukraine), and later to the Crimea, where Boris completed his secondary education in 1936. He was then sent by the Komsomol to study at the Military Infantry School in Leningrad.
It was at this time that Boris received news that his mother had been arrested as a Party functionary who had betrayed the Party's trust (her arrest was part of Stalin's "Great Purge" of the late 1930s). According to Komsomol regulations, Boris was required to renounce his mother. However, in a display of remarkable courage, he refused to disown her.
Boris took part in the Soviet-Finnish Winter War of 1939-1940, and was wounded. At the time of the outbreak of the Soviet-German War, he was serving near the western border of the USSR, commanding a company. In the first days of the war, the frontline zone was in a state of chaos, and Soviet troops were retreating randomly. In these difficult circumstances, Boris and his company were able to capture a German platoon. According to his subsequent recollections, his rifle division was encircled in February 1942 near the town of Novorzhev. In such cases, Communists, military intelligence officers, and Jews were the ones most at risk. Boris was both the division's intelligence chief and a Jew. Despite being seriously wounded, he managed to escape, and was sent to a hospital.
After being discharged, Balter was reassigned to the rear and appointed commander of a reserve regiment. He finished the war in the rank of major. At that time, he still clung to the hope of a successful military career. He even applied to enroll in the Military Academy in Moscow. However, his application was rejected, leading him to resign from the army.
There are differing accounts regarding the reason for his resignation. According to one version, it had to do with his health condition following his wounding. However, another source suggests that his Jewishness might have played a role, hindering his career progression. The available evidence indicates that, in the early postwar period, it became more difficult for Jews to be admitted to higher military educational institutions than in the prewar period. Now, the Jews were overrepresented in the middle and higher officer corps, and the authorities decided to give preferential treatment to the major Slavic peoples (Russians, Ukrainians, and Belarusians). This political climate may have influenced Balter's fate.
In 1948, Balter enrolled in the Literary Institute in Moscow, and promptly published his debut novel, The First Days. It depicted the early stage of the war, a period characterized by confusion among the commanders and the regrettable retreat of the troops. However, this text, published in a provincial almanac, garnered little critical attention.
Upon graduating, Balter secured a position at the Research Institute of Russian Language, Literature, and History in Abakan (Khakassia, Siberia). A significant turning point in his life came in 1961, when an excerpt from his autobiographical novel 'Goodbye, Boys' appeared in a prominent literary newspaper. The work was enthusiastically greeted by both readers and critics, and eventually published in full. Following this success, Balter's works began to feature in major Soviet magazines, bringing his name to prominence and making him a popular literary figure.
Within five years of its publication, the novel was adapted to the stage and to the screen. However, Balter's subsequent works did not enjoy the same degree of success. In 1968, he signed a letter to the authorities in defense of the dissidents Ury Galanskov and Alexander Ginzburg, who were then on trial. As a consequence, he was expelled from the Communist Party and denied the right to have his work published in Soviet magazines and newspapers.
Balter subsequently purchased an old cottage near Moscow, where he lived in solitude and worked as a translator until his death in 1974.
Related resources
A fragment from the novel 'Goodbye, Boys'
In the novel, written in the early 1960s, Balter captured the essence of that era, which presented a curious mix of deep-seated ideological conformity and a loss of faith in the ideological certainties of the past. These ambiguities were keenly felt by the writer's contemporaries, who nonetheless could not bring themselves to articulate them openly.
"You stand on the threshold of real life." – said Alyosha, – "The city Komsomol organization is giving you the option of striking out on your own in the very place where you will best serve the cause of the Party." – Alyosha got worked up, as though speaking at a public rally, – "We have no desire to export the Revolution, but our enemies abroad dream of restoring the old order in our country. They are planning to attack us. And then you will lead the armies of the world's first state of workers and peasants. The army keeps recruiting more and more youngsters with high school diplomas. The veteran commanders, for all their military experience, can no longer fully satisfy the spiritual needs of the fighters".
At this point in Alyosha's speech, we glanced at the draft officer and felt superior to this aged major, with his wrinkled and rather rough face, broad cheekbones, and heavy forehead overhanging the eyes. The golden chevrons flared up on the left sleeve of his neatly ironed tunic, and gleamed dully on its right sleeve, which was in shadow.
"Yes, comrades, modern technology requires soldiers and commanders to possess extensive knowledge," – Alyosha's voice thundered on mercilessly, – "The Komsomol is in the vanguard of the construction projects of the five-year plans. The Komsomol must also be in the vanguard of building up the armed forces. This is why we have decided to reach out to you, the best of the best, and urge you to enroll in military schools. Just think of it: In three years' time, you will be lieutenants," – Alyosha paused, and the room, which was bisected by a ray of sunlight, fell into silence.
"Just think of it" – easier said than done! Alyosha was asking us for something of which we were utterly incapable at the moment.
– "Now you know why you have been invited. It's your turn to speak," – said Alyosha in his ordinary, non-oratorial voice. <…> We avoided each other's eyes. Being boys, we naturally held ourselves and our abilities in the highest esteem. We were arrogant and insolent. And now, we suddenly learned that we were entitled to feel like that. Alyosha called us " the best of the best," and the Party and the Soviet state had need of us. While we were used to praise, this was too much even for us. The draft officer was conferring with Alyosha, and I could not make out his words. Actually, I could not hear anything. Never before had I been forced to take such an important decision. <…>
-- "I say 'yes'," – said Sashka, – "and all of us together will have to convince my parents."
From Sashka's tone of voice, I deduced that he still entertained serious doubts about his parents' consent. I, too, had my doubts: not about my own mother, but about Sashka's parents. My mother enjoyed my full confidence. Thus, when Alyosha looked at me, I said:
-- "Agreed."
-- "Understood," – Alyosha leaned toward the draft officer and said: "This is Belov, Nadezhda Alexandrovna's son." The officer nodded vigorously and looked at me. "Now's your turn to speak up, Anikin," said Alyosha.
Vitka blushed, and sweat beaded on his forehead.
--"I agree, as well."
From: Boris Balter, 'Goodbye, Boys!' [Moscow, 1978], pp. 22-25.
