‘Fords!’ drawled Kamentshuk, the chief engineer. ‘The canal is about 40 to 50 metres wide and there are fortifications on the northern bank. Blocked villages and massive buildings strengthen the defences.’
When I heard this, I became somewhat less confident. Kamentshuk knew what he was talking about. His opinion was highly regarded by us commanders.
‘Don’t frighten him, Matvei Polikarpovitch,’ said Rybalko smiling. ‘What is there is still standing, we must be bold, decisive and single-minded. We have nothing to fear, finally we are not alone. The 1st Byelorussian Front is coming from the east. In the north Rokossovski is striking out. On our army’s left wing Leliushenko is attacking towards Potsdam. That man there is the commander-in-chief of the 28th Army, Alexander Alexandrovitch Lutschinski.’ Rybalko pointed to a tall, thin general. ‘When the infantry are here, we tank soldiers need have no fear.’
On leaving, General Rybalko said to me: ‘Drive straight to your brigade. Get to know the situation on the spot and everything will become clear to you. In any case drive first to the corps commander, who is expecting you. What I now want to say to you is that the corps is now under General Vassili Vassilievitch Novikov. He is an old, experienced warrior. He is strong and lets nothing get past him.’
Rybalko was in good spirits and his orders were always accompanied by a little joke. I stopped again at the door. I could not help saying, ‘I will wait for you in Berlin, Comrade General.’
‘I will come in any case,’ answered Rybalko smiling, ‘but only under special conditions. You must receive me on Wilhelmstrasse. The whole of the 7th Corps will be heading in this direction.’
Once I had obtained a city plan of Berlin from the liaison officer, I made my way to my colleagues. The reunion at the headquarters and the words that Rybalko had said to me on the way excited me. Rybalko’s inexhaustible energy conveyed itself to me and I seemed to be streaming with unusual strength.
The vehicle went off to the north at speed. We came to Mahlow, turned left towards Teltow and immediately came under a barrage. The communications officer who was to escort us to the brigade had selected no particularly suitable route. He wanted to bring us to our goal by the shortest route, but had not taken into account that the main road to Teltow was under enemy fire. It was too late to turn around, apart from which it was not lacking in danger to do so. We therefore had to go through, whatever the cost, our vehicle bouncing from one crater to another.
Rykov clasped the steering wheel firmly with both hands and steered us to the edge of the town, the vehicle jumping like a goat from one side to another. Then he drove along close to the buildings. Bathed in sweat, the driver angrily sought individual sheltered places, but there were hardly any. Despite all the difficulties, we reached the city outskirts. Now we had to cross a small open area and then vanish into a wood, from where it was only a few steps to the brigade headquarters.
The fire did not ease off. Shells howled over from the far bank, and one could hear the discharge of mortars. Apart from this, machine-gun fire was spraying the open areas.
Here there were neither hills nor depressions, not even a bush. Although the vehicle had turned off the field, furrowed from shells, only a few minutes before, for us it seemed an eternity as shots hit ahead and behind us. Rykov got the last ounce of power out of the Jeep. The vehicle slipped and twisted, splinters whistling around our ears. With the bodywork riddled, we eventually reached the thick wall of an abandoned property. The communications officer had been hit by a splinter, but the remainder of us had got through with a fright. The thought of being wounded so close to one’s goal, or even being killed, was like a cold shower down my back. It was not the fear of death that had filled me, for one generally got used to that in war, but the thought that one could be shot only three paces from my brigade.
Finally we had survived it. We breathed out, took a slug of water, bandaged our escort, changed a wheel and carried on. The heavy fire had died down in our sector, the shells now exploding at a distance from us. We reached our destination in another hour.
I found the brigade staff in an abandoned farm that was not shown on any map. Several of my familiar vehicles – the radio vehicle, armoured car and my ‘steel horse’, a T-34 with the number 200 – stood close to a wall.
The greeting was short, but hearty. First I made myself known to the new chief of staff, Lieutenant-Colonel Schalunov, and the other officers that had joined during my absence. I was very happy to see Dmitriev sound and lively. He had been in charge of the brigade’s political detachment for over three years.
The new chief of staff reported the situation and the brigade’s role to me. All our attempts to cross the canal in the Stahnsdorf area had so far failed. He led me to the window. From there one could see Stahnsdorf, the bridge to the right of it, and the battalions that had dug themselves in on the south bank of the canal.
‘I have never before experienced such fire,’ said Schalunov, shaking his head.
‘What is the situation with the bridge?’
‘We cannot take it. The Germans have blown it, and simply to go across makes little sense.’
‘What does the corps commander think about it?’
‘That is clear enough: he is complaining. We have to get over somehow.’
I telephoned General Novikov and reported myself. He asked me to go to him. We were 2 or 3 kilometres apart and, under the prevailing conditions, radio and telephone communications were not very reliable. It was not right for me to leave the brigade again so soon, but when the commander demanded it, there was no arguing.
I could not get to his observation post with a car or an armoured vehicle. The Fascists were only 300 metres away from us. So I had to go on foot, or to be precise, crawl, as the strong fire pressed us to the ground. My adjutant, the liaison officer and I scurried from building to building to reach the woods as quickly as possible. It was still more dangerous here. Shells exploded constantly. Close to the edge of the woods stood some buildings and these were our saviours. We moved by leaps and bounds from building to building. An officer from the corps staff was waiting for us on one corner.
Our situation was anything but funny, but I could not hold back my laughter. The captain crept into a building and disappeared like a cat through a narrow cellar window. A moment later a hand appeared in the cellar window and waved. We were to go the same way. Either I was more heavily built than the captain, or I had not correctly judged the size of the cellar window, but in any case I remained stuck. Only with a big effort, and to the amusement of those gathered in the cellar, could I get through.
‘Don’t be surprised about this entrance. Normally we prefer to use the door.’ An unknown voice greeted me with these words. ‘But the door lies in the enemy’s line of fire. When we moved in here during the night we were not aware of this, and it was too late to change location in the morning.’
Gradually one’s eyes got used to the twilight. There were several men in the long room. In one corner stood some telephone apparatus and in a side room were two radio operators with their sets. Next to Corps Commander Novikov stood the commander of the tank and mechanised troops of our front, Colonel-General N. A. Novikov, and the head of the corps’ political detachment, A. V. Novikov.
Once I had brushed off the dust and brought my uniform to order, I reported to the corps commander and the colonel-general, after which Andrei Vladimirovitch clasped me in his arms. I had often met this simple, demanding, fair and courageous man on my way. He was clever, good-natured and just. Those who knew him adored him. With successes he did not break into raptures of joy, but also he did not fall into despair with failures. The political workers and brigade commanders respected him for he was considerably older and more experienced than we were. He simply understood how to influence people.