When we speak of the Second World War, Kazakhstan has never wavered in honoring the bravery of those who went to the front lines eight decades ago. Historical records show that more than 1.2 million people from the Kazakh Soviet Socialist Republic took part in the war. Over 500 of them were awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union.
Among these valiant fighters was Kazakh lieutenant Rakhimzhan Koshkarbayev, one of the first soldiers to raise the Soviet flag over the Reichstag in Berlin. On the home front, Kazakhstan played a vital role in supplying the war effort with food, clothing, and military equipment.
But this article sheds light on a lesser-known chapter: how newspapers in far-off Australia once reported on Kazakhs fighting on the Eastern Front.
The Two Snipers
On October 19, 1943, a brief story appeared in The Mirror, a Sydney-based newspaper, highlighting Kazakh snipers serving in the Red Army. The article titled Red Snipers’ Grim Harvest reads: “Grim-faced sniper, Siyazbekov, a Kazakh, kills four to five fascists every day. This photograph, taken during actual fighting scenes on the Russian front, shows Siyazbekov (right) well-hidden in a snow-covered Russian field, with Red Army man Djakeyev, who is also a sniper.”
Curious after reading this, we searched online for more information about these Kazakh marksmen. Unfortunately, the trail runs cold, suggesting this may be a topic worthy of deeper historical research. The newspaper’s accompanying image shows the two soldiers locked in focus behind their sniper rifles, stern, battle-hardened, and fearless.
Behind Enemy Lines
Another mention of a Kazakh soldier appeared in an Australian daily published in Adelaide, dated May 21, 1943. The story, found on page three, spotlighted a reconnaissance scout: “One of the Red Army’s ace scouts is Kazakh Abu Temerbaev, shown here. His job is to bring in news of enemy movements. He works on the central front, where big-scale fighting is expected again any day.”
Once again, we attempted to uncover more about this soldier. Yet, aside from this single article and one wartime photo showing him in winter camouflage, history offers no further trace.
These brief mentions in Australian newspapers, now yellowed with age, hint at a vast and mostly forgotten archive of Kazakh valor. Their stories, still waiting to be told, echo across continents and urge us not to forget.
