After the war many historians concerned themselves with the question whether the high command of the 1st Byelorussian Front had handled things correctly, as it sent the two tank armies against the still-not-tied-down defences in the Seelow Heights area and then finally obliged them to fight in the streets of Berlin.
Yes, an unusual role fell to both the tank armies in the battle for Berlin. They were also unable to separate themselves from the infantry and attain their operational depth. But does that mean that the tank armies were not used properly? One can only assess the selected decision of the high command of the 1st Byelorussian Front correctly if one takes into consideration the conditions and the strategic aim.
According to the decision of the governing heads of the Allied Powers at the conference at Yalta, Berlin belonged to the Red Army’s operational area. But already in April 1945 our high command had learnt from the brisk activity of reactionary circles in the USA and Great Britain that they planned to forestall us and let Anglo-American troops take Berlin.
The Soviet Union on its side feared the conclusion of a separate agreement by the Allies with the Fascist government, which would be contrary to unconditional surrender and would result in an unacceptable post-war situation in Europe. And as documents that were published after the war show, these fears were real. Thus the Soviet government decided to expedite the taking of Berlin to prevent a forced separate agreement.
The attention of our headquarters in the planning of the Berlin operation focused on speed and fierceness of attack to prevent the Fascist high command from manoeuvring its forces. The troops committed against Berlin had the high historical task of putting an end to this last bastion of Fascism. Under these historical conditions the commitment of the 1st and 2nd Guards Tank Armies in the battle of Berlin by the 1st Byelorussian Front was not only proper but also historically justified.
Zhukov’s attack on the Seelow Heights proved to be an unusually poor performance by a man with so many victories to his credit, being little short of a disaster. There were serious defects in the planning, with the unrehearsed use of searchlights in action (intended to increase the hours of daylight to work in), and the failure to identify the strength of the German defences. The worst fault, however, and the point most criticised by Chuikov in the first military account to be approved for publication over ten years later, was the premature introduction of his two tank armies when he was brought under pressure by Stalin for failing to meet his immediate objectives. The battle cost him the equivalent of a tank army in armour and an admitted 33,000 killed. Not only did this battle leave his armies exhausted, it made necessary a hasty revision of his plans for the taking of Berlin.
Zhukov’s slow progress had enabled Koniev to get his own two tank armies to Potsdam, with the southern suburbs of Berlin ahead of them, a fact that an angry Zhukov found incredible. Koniev then left the rest of his army group to his chief of staff to manage while he concentrated on the heavily reinforced 3rd Guards Tank Army’s thrust for the Reichstag, the acknowledged victor’s prize. He was only thwarted in his aim by Chuikov having a shorter route to take, so being able to cross the inter-Front boundary in his path. In this deadly game Stalin kept both his marshals unaware of the other’s actions, so it was only when Koniev’s troops discovered they were attacking Chuikov’s rear that he broke off the action, humiliated in his turn.
According to the order of the Front high command, the 1st Guards Tank Army was to advance during the night of the 16th April into the Alt Mahlisch–Dolgelin–Seelow sector of the bridgehead in which the 8th Guards Army was located.
For one last time I visited the camouflaged units and elements of our army in the woods on the right bank of the Oder with Popiel and Shalin. At short notice our sappers had set up a proper settlement here with little wooden barracks. The political workers had assembled the troops in clearings for political instruction. Mechanics were checking the readiness of the tanks for battle.
Finally I checked over Shalin’s plan for the crossing of the troops and their deployment on the west bank. Then I drove with Nikitin across to the bridgehead. The torn-up road was strewn with poplars. Explosions were still going on. Starlings, startled by the noise, flew screaming over the tops of the trees. Roadside ditches and shell craters stood full of water. Although the hard rules of war seemed to have overcome everything, nature continued its own, independent life that demanded its rights in its own territory.
In the bridgehead on the Oder swarmed a great throng like that some time ago on the Vistula. The roads were completely blocked by the 8th Guards Army. Everywhere one came across trenches and bunkers. Equipment or boxes of ammunition lay under every bush. Fortunately our aircraft ruled the air. A massive blow by Fascist aircraft would have caused heavy casualties.
Chuikov was pacing up and down in his command post.
‘How is it going with the breakthrough? Can you make it in time?’ I asked.
‘Breakthrough here, breakthrough there.’ The army commander bit his lower lip. ‘Taking these damned heights on the move is just about impossible. Just see what the Germans have constructed.’
Chuikov rolled out on the table several large aerial photographs of the Seelow Heights, on which one could clearly see the dense net of rifle, communication and anti-tank trenches. Rows of dark spots we could identify without difficulty as tank pits, steep slopes and places. Especially numerous were the gullies cutting through the Heights from east to west.
‘Yes, it won’t be easy to take these heights,’ I agreed. ‘Until the infantry reach the crest, the tanks can do nothing.’
‘It’s particularly difficult,’ Chuikov went on concernedly, ‘we can’t see the positions from down here. Our artillery can’t conduct any aimed fire. And hitting the positions with only anti-aircraft gunfire will be difficult.’
It had been obvious to us for a long time that these last battles would be difficult, and the talk with the Army commander-in-chief reinforced me in this opinion. The enemy knew that the fate of Berlin hung from the beginning on the battle on the Oder.
On the night leading to the 16th April the army crossed under cover of darkness to the west bank and pressed itself literally into its allocated sector of the bridgehead. In accordance with Marshal Zhukov’s plan, the attack was due to begin at night. The Front commander-in-chief had decided to blind the enemy with searchlights. I had taken part in an exercise a few days before when the searchlights were tested. It was an impressive display.
At 0500 hours on the 16th April the ear-splitting explosions of thousands of guns began the last decisive attack by our troops on the German capital. The droning in the heavens of the engines of our bombers was ceaseless. After the artillery preparation, 140 searchlights were switched on. The Oder valley lay under a bluish light. The painful din of thousands of exploding shells and aircraft bombs was so dense that even the strong anti-aircraft searchlights could not get through.
Chuikov’s infantry went into the attack. They took the first positions across no-man’s-land quickly, but as the divisions approached the second strip the heavy fire caused their progress to slow down. The breakthrough did not succeed.
Chuikov ordered another artillery preparation. Like arrows the shots of the Katiushas joined in, the wave of fire rolling over the heights. Immediately afterwards the infantry and tanks attacked, our bombers and fighters joining in.