Not to let oneself get entangled in street fighting was easy to demand, but in practice it seemed somewhat different. In front of us were the Krumme Lanke and Schlachtensee lakes. To the left and right of them stretched woods, gardens and extensive villa estates. Representatives of the great bourgoisie and the Nazi Reich had once settled down in picturesque Zehlendorf. I had the battalion commanders ordered to my command post at the Lichterfelde S-Bahn station. The commanders of the artillery units as well as the scouts and sappers were also summoned.
Zehlendorf lay uniquely quiet and apparently deserted. But I knew from experience how treacherous silence can be in war.
We needed two hours to organise our attack. Then scouts under Lieutenant Serashimov drove off with two tanks towards Zehlendorf. A company of submachine-gunners marched to the edge of the woods and two artillery detachments took up firing positions. An artillery brigade near me prepared to support our 55th Guards Tank Brigade.
Two tank battalions attacked towards Zehlendorf. With the 1st Battalion was a small operations group with scouts, sappers and submachine-gunners. The 2nd Battalion followed at a distance of some kilometres. It was to support us and in case of a mishap would thrust past us on the right or left.
It was obvious to us that the enemy would not give up this important area without a fight, as his casualties showed a serious weakening of the whole defence. Roads led from the streets of Zehlendorf to the Avus autobahn and the Berlin–Potsdam railway line. If we had this area in our hands, the enemy’s way to the west would be blocked. Apart from that, this was the shortest route to Charlottenburg, the Olympic Stadium and to Ruhleben, where we could meet up with troops of the 1st Byelorussian Front and close the ring within Berlin.
The quiet around us unsettled me even further. Had we already fallen into a trap? Similar thoughts also moved my staff officers with me at the railway crossing.
I quickly thought through several variations and then decided to leave behind a reserve of battalion strength. It would remain with the chief of staff at the old location. I myself would storm with the leading battalion to the dead area at the railway crossing.
Not a shot was fired in the woods. Zehlendorf was also unnaturally quiet. Eight trucks mounted with big calibre anti-aircraft machine-guns followed my tanks. The crews kept themselves ready to be able to open fire at any moment. This company had already helped us out of the mire several times, carefully protecting my command tank.
The nearer we got to Zehlendorf, the clearer the outlines of the buildings became. When we had got a little further forward, Saveliev reported: ‘Serashimov has reached a square. Everything in order.’
The leading tank reduced speed, and the following tanks also applied their brakes. Immediately the engines of the anti-aircraft machine-guns were alongside my tank.
What then happened, I failed to understand immediately. A pressure wave suddenly swept off the riflemen sitting on my tank. Only when bullets pinged over my head, a column of fire rose up and the buildings rocked from the explosions did it become clear to me that, despite all our precautions, we had fallen into a trap.
Saveliev hurried to me and helped me to my feet. Instead of giving orders, I carefully brushed the dust off my uniform. This seemed unusual, but I needed these minutes to get over my fright. Fortunately no one had noticed my uncertainty, and the men already knew what to do without orders, which now came.
The gun aimers turned the turrets of their tanks towards the buildings and fired shrapnel at the upper storeys. The flak gunners fired at roofs and windows. Even the mortar men engaged. The submachine-gunners swarmed over in groups and carried out the tasks allocated to them before the fight.
I tried to assess the situation with some of my comrades, but this was not that easy in the turmoil of battle. Where was the enemy, what forces were involved? Once I was eventually sufficiently orientated, I ordered the two artillery battalions to take the streets under systematic fire. Several minutes later the large calibre shells howled over us. A little later the mortar brigade of the Breakthrough Artillery Division also opened fire.
The fighting gradually became more organised. Captain Chadsarakov’s rifle company, which was going round Zehlendorf, wheeled towards the city and began with other companies to drive the enemy out of his hiding places. The 2nd Tank Battalion thrust forward to the northern edge of Zehlendorf, took the Düppel Farm and covered the brigade’s main forces from the north, where a strong enemy group was preparing to counterattack from the area of Zehlendorf-West S-Bahn station [now Mexikoplatz].
Certainly we had luck that day. A Katiusha battalion appeared in our sector. It was under the direct command of the corps commander, but who sticks to such orders in such a situation? Quickly decided, I persuaded the battalion commander to fire a salvo. Success was soon obvious.
Resistance generally died down during the second half of the day, with exchanges of fire only breaking out here and there. The enemy defence no longer functioned as precisely as it had done at the beginning of the fighting.
Zehlendorf had to fall at any minute. We only had to clear the area around the Krumme Lanke U-Bahn station, thrust forward between the Schlachtensee and Krumme Lanke lakes to the Avus autobahn and cut off the Berlin–Potsdam railway line running parallel to it.
But unfortunately in this case the wish was as far as we got as Gulevaty reported that his battalion could not get any further forward.
It was obvious that I could achieve little by radio, and so I went with my group to Fischerhüttenstrasse. At the Krumme Lanke U-Bahn station we met up with Gulevaty’s tank column.
Before listening to the battalion commander, I gave him a proper dressing-down. At last the scouts had just reported that they had reached the western edge of Zehlendorf. The submachine-gunners had also got there, and now this hold-up.
Gulevaty was angry. ‘Please see for yourself, Comrade Colonel, if you don’t want to believe me. Two tanks burnt. If I go right I come up against Krumme Lanke lake, and I still do not get through if I go right. Behind the railway line is the Schlachtensee lake. What should I do?’
Meanwhile I had calmed down a little and familiarised myself with the situation. The enemy was keeping the whole street under fire from a corner building. Their firing position was skilfully selected and artfully camouflaged. It was not easy for our tank troops to make out the gun and destroy it. Nevertheless they engaged – they could have lost all the tanks in this little section of roadway.
‘Take the battalion and go round the Schlachtensee lake, push through to the Nikolassee lake and fulfil your task from there,’ I ordered. ‘This will take a few hours, but will save men and equipment.’
The first tanks tried to turn round with howling engines. As usual, it developed into a traffic jam with much noise and swearing. Suddenly we noticed that the enemy guns were silent. This had not been realised straight away in the confusion. What was up? Had the gun crews given up, or was the enemy preparing a new surprise for us?
Come what may, we seized our opportunity. The tanks thrust along the Fischerhüttenstrasse and reached the Avus motorway. We informed General Novikov by radio that Zehlendorf was in our hands.
What had happened in the corner building from which our tanks had been fired on? This question gave me no peace, and I determined to find out. I drove up closer with my tank. Several people were standing next to the building, among them Lieutenant Serashimov. I ordered the tank to stop and went up to him. ‘What is happening? Why have you stayed behind Gulevaty and Staruchin?’
The lieutenant of few words pointed to the yard with his hand. We went through a little garden to the cellar entrance, in which stood the gun. On the floor lay the bodies of the gun crew, four men. On the gun hung a fighter from our brigade, the Komsomol member Vassili Lissunov. He had throttled a Fascist officer but was himself dead. We carefully loosened his hands and carried him outside.