Tank Rider: Into the Reich with the Red Army

The main forces of the Brigade arrived at noon. Battalion commander Kozienko called me; tank regiment commander Stolyarov was also present. I reported the situation, and the tankers also reported that the bridge was impassable and guarded by the enemy, although not in strength. The commanders ordered me to go to the right of the bridge, to try to find a crossing or a ford across Smotrich river and advance to the centre of the city. They gave me the same three tanks and, of course, Kolosov’s machine-gun platoon as a supporting unit. I was ordered to maintain communication over tank radio. I gathered the squad leaders, gave them an order to advance, and we left the area at the bridge, moving along the course of the river. Three tanks drove up to us, the company mounted them and we drove off to look for a ford or a convenient place for tanks to drive through river. We found a place that was kind of convenient, and crossed to the other bank of the river. Tankers reported to Stolyarov that we had found a ford and entered the city’s outskirts on the opposite side. However, the top of the other bank was almost vertically faced with stone, one-and-a-half metres high. The tanks could not overcome the obstacle, no matter how hard they tried. This obstacle could be called an anti-tank wall, but in reality it was built to strengthen the riverbank in case of flooding. We had to dismantle this stone wall in order to make a convenient driveway for tanks. The tankers did not have so much as a crowbar, but we somehow managed to break down the stone wall; one tank negotiated the obstacle and drove off into the city with Kolosov’s machine-gun platoon on it. The other two tanks could not get over the wall, however. We tried for a long time, but we could not do anything. Then the tank that drove into the city came back.

Lieutenant Kolosov told me that he was wounded, and I saw the fresh bandage myself. His tank had come under fire from a German machine-gun on a church bell-tower, with was almost in the centre of the city. Besides that, his tank could not move any further, as the streets were filled with trucks parked next to each other. It was not only hard to drive – it was hard to walk, so tightly were the abandoned German trucks parked. Later we learned that these trucks with all their commodities and food belonged to rear units of a large German formation that had retreated to the west. However, our Brigade cut their retreat routes and they had to stop in the city. There were very many trucks, at least 1,000 to 1,500 of them, and there were all kinds of things in them! I repeat that I never saw a larger amount of war booty anywhere else. It is interesting that there were no drivers in those trucks.

They transmitted an order over the radio for the tanks to stay put at the river, while the infantry was to advance to the railway station. It was a repetition of the earlier spoken order by the battalion commander. I advanced through the city with my company. The streets were packed with trucks, mostly heavy ones: Mahn, Opel and other types. We did not encounter the Germans – they ran away as we appeared in the city. Suddenly we heard artillery fire and shells exploding in the city. That was fire from our Brigade artillery. The company went out to the city’s outskirts, to the higher bank of Smotrich river, and we saw an interesting picture. The entire Brigade, or rather, whatever remained of it after almost a month of fighting, assaulted the city. All types of weapons fired: tanks, artillery of the Brigade’s artillery battalion, mortars and machine-guns. It was a beautiful battle scene, but it would have been nicer if they had hit the enemy, and not the friendly troops, especially my company. We shouted, waved our hats and hands (we did not have recognition colour flares), and ran around, trying to draw the attention of the assaulting troops, but it was all in vain. They continued their assault in an extended line, reached the river, waded in waist-deep in water (while my company crossed it on tanks, and we were all dry) and came up on our high bank and rushed into the city.

The company joined the battalion, and before I could report completion of the mission and Lieutenant Kolosov’s wound, the battalion commander shocked me, saying: ‘And where have you been? I have not seen you in the attacking line, and you are dry, huh?’ At first I did not understand him. Then I felt offended. I had to remind Kozienko about the order that he gave to Kolosov and me three hours earlier. Tank crews had reported completion of the mission through radio. The battalion commander did not answer anything to that, but told the surrounding officers: ‘Bessonov is cunning, crossed the river and did not get his feet wet.’