Now that reinforcements had arrived, Mussatov could leave his cover. I hardly recognised him when he stood before me. He seemed to have aged a year.
‘A shame about Goldman. Although he was a German, he had no time for the Fascists.’ Without another word, Mussatov climbed into his SPG and drove off. At the village exit his vehicle was hit by an anti-aircraft gun. This finally finished it. Also several tanks caught fire. But Mussatov was not to be stopped. He climbed into Lieutenant Chorushenko’s SPG and rolled on with Lieutenants Schevtshuk and Bushuiev.
The enemy set about defending himself bitterly. Anti-aircraft guns and an assault gun fired from secure positions. Chorushenko lost his life in this fight. A shell hit his SPG and went through the side. Once more Mussatov had to climb into another SPG, this time Buschuiev’s. Although Ivanov’s company had also engaged in the fight, we did not get any further. Tank troops and SPG crews were at a loss. Nevertheless somehow they had to get on. Finally Ivanov came up with an idea. Quite close by, on a bend in the road, stood some trees and bushes. Perhaps one could overcome the enemy under cover of them? The company commander explained to his men what he had in mind. ‘Now friends, who will take the risk and go first?’
Deep silence. Everyone knew this was one’s life at stake.
‘Who will take on the fire protection?’ asked Lieutenant Luschpa timidly.
‘I will,’ answered Ivanov. You can leave that to me.’
Luschpa took a long testing look at the road as if he wanted to imprint every metre precisely on his mind. Then he decisively threw his cigarette away and went to his crew. ‘Now men, are you ready? We’ll go first.’
Korotov, the driver, shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘What else is for us to do? One must chance it. We can’t stay here in this nest for ever. Let’s go, Commander!’
‘Mount up!’ ordered Luschpa and disappeared into the SPG. Lieutenant Korotkov, Sergeant-Major Tschorny and Sergeant Koshevnikov followed him. The vehicle slowly got moving.
Attentively I observed a trench nearby. As I moved towards it, Luschpa immediately warned me: ‘Careful, the trench is occupied!’
Luschpa aimed his gun and fired several times. The shells exploded in the trench. Ossipov and Mussatov had also fired. Shortly afterwards soldiers climbed out of the trench and raised their hands.
Chotimski told me to increase the pressure on the enemy. ‘If we haven’t reached Berlin by nightfall, our attack will be stuck fast. I will bring infantry forward and then you attack between the first trenches. Vainrub will bring his tanks up to the anti-tank ditch.’
I observed through the periscope. Slowly the barrels sank to horizontal. Panzerfaust men approached us openly. Korotkov’s SPG stormed ahead. The Fascists got no closer, not even to fire another Panzerfaust. Now Korotkov had reached the trench, threatening to crush the men in the trench with the SPG. The enemy soldiers threw their weapons away and raised their hands.
Korotkov now wheeled towards Berlin. At this moment the SPG was hit in the side by a Panzerfaust. When I reached the vehicle, Sergeant-Major Tschorny and Sergeant Koshevnikov were already pulling the driver out of the hatch. The shell had torn off both of Korotkov’s legs. Fiodor groaned and asked for vodka, but nobody had any.
Luschpa spoke calmingly to Fiodor. ‘Hold on, Fedia, grit your teeth and hold on.’
The wounded man was becoming weaker by the minute. His face was flushed, with thick beads of sweat standing on his forehead. As the doctor appeared and checked his pulse, he shook his head concernedly. We carefully lifted the wounded man on to a stretcher and carried him to an ambulance. Korotkov had lost consciousness. Shortly afterwards came the news that he had died. We buried him in Seefeld.
The attack was resumed on the morning of the 22nd April. This time we were able to break through. I covered Krivoshein’s tank in the order of battle.
Major Bortovski attacked on the right with his 9th Tank Regiment. Near me drove Staff-Sergeant Jascha Ossipov’s tank. He had been decorated with the Order of the Red Star immediately before the attack began. Boldyrev’s and Korosteliov’s men broke into the city with Ossipov. The attack got into its stride.
The tanks and SPGs rolled along Berliner Strasse like a typhoon, firing at still-resisting Fascists with their anti-aircraft machine-guns. We stopped near a big building. Shortly afterwards Boldyrev’s and Korosteliov’s SPGs joined us, followed by the remainder of the regiment’s vehicles and their infantry. Mussatov got out and ran into a building with some infantry. A moment later a Red Flag flew from a balcony. We were in Berlin!
The men were totally exhausted. At last they had something of a rest. Stretcher-bearers carried the wounded to a collection point. Mussatov, Ivanov and Luschpa had curled themselves up and fallen asleep. When Major Ossadtchi saw me he said: ‘All mankind should raise their hats to you!’
A little later, in the presence of their regimental colleagues, I decorated Mussatov with the Alexander Nevski Order, Ivanov with the Order of the Red Banner, and Luschpa with the Order of the Red Star.
Colonel Vainrub reported to the corps commander that we had reached Berlin. The general replied laconically: ‘I’ll pass on the message to corps headquarters immediately.’
A lightning telegram sent the news of the success of the advance elements of the 1st Mechanised Corps and the 3rd Shock Army from General Kusnezov to Moscow. Our regiment received the thanks of the Supreme Commander in Chief and was later awarded the Order of Suvorov.
For heroism, bravery and leadership Semion Moisseievitch Krivoshein and I were declared ‘Heroes of the Soviet Union’ by decree of the Presidium of the High Soviet of the Soviet Union on the 31st May 1945.
Korosteliov, the best SPG driver, and many others received high decorations. In addition, all those who had taken part in the fighting between the Oder and Berlin were honoured with orders and medals.
In the Working Class Districts of Berlin
The fighting in Berlin demanded everything of us. We could hardly manoeuvre in the narrow streets. The enemy sat in the buildings behind thick walls, and his tanks were able to break out of the side streets at any time. Panzerfaust men had settled in the cellars and attacked us from there.
Mussatov and Ivanov asked for submachine-gunners to be sent to them with hand grenades to engage an enemy tank that kept rolling forward out of a side street and was preventing their advance under cover of fire from the upper storey of a corner building. Sacharkin had already deployed all the submachine-gunners. Apart from that he was doubtful that one could get a Tiger with hand grenades, for it had not worked on a Panther.
Major Ossadtchi said nothing for a long time, sitting there thoughtfully and smoking a cigarette. Then he got up and declared decisively: ‘That is a job for the right men. Let’s send Boldyrev and Gorodenzev. They will deal with it.’
Pashitnov nodded in agreement: ‘They are the right ones. Boldyrev fought bravely at the Vistula and Gorodenzev was there in Moscow.’
Next we sent for Boldyrev. ‘Have you any family?’ asked Sacharkin.
‘Yes, my father and mother. They live in Moscow. And then there’s my fiancée. We are getting married after the war. You are most heartily invited.’
‘How old are you?’ I asked.
‘Born in 1923.’
‘And where were you trained?’ Pashitnov wanted to know.
Boldyrev smiled: ‘At the Tscheliabin Tank School. But I have already told you this. Don’t you remember? That was in October 1943 when we arrived at the regiment with our SPG. At that time you were adjutant.’