Fascist groups streamed into the western districts, pushed back by the blows from the 1st Byelorussian and 1st Ukrainian Fronts. Fighting broke out the U-Bahn stations, in the tunnels and even in the sewers. The enemy knew his city well and manoeuvred in narrow spaces. He disappeared only to suddenly reappear in our rear, and so inflicted some blows on us.
Once more our Rear Services were attacked. For several hours Leonov and his troops fought an uneven battle against a large enemy group wanting to break through to the Havel lakes.
In these conditions our main forces were the infantry, tanks, the supporting artillery and the sappers. For the first time since the fighting for Berlin had begun we had direct contact with the brigade of my old fighting colleague, Colonel Sliussarenko.
After the link-up with the 1st Byelorussian Front, the impact of our tanks had grown enormously. Previously we had had to fear that the pressure from the retreating Fascists could not be held. Now we had General A.P. Turshinski’s 55th Guards Breakthrough Division near us, the tank troops and riflemen forming a regular barrier. Nevertheless our western front sector was reinforced even more on the morning of the following day by the 3rd Guards Tank Army and the 1st Ukrainian Front.
I must admit that it was the right time. The noose tightened even more, causing critical days for the defenders of Berlin. The Fascists had finally realised that they could no longer hope for the wonder weapons so praised by Goebbels. The only salvation they saw was in a breakout to the west behind the Havel lakes. Thousands of Fascist soldiers and officers thrust in our direction. There was fighting in all the streets, and the western parts of the city were on fire.
A strong group, also comprising artillery and tanks, broke through to the Zoological Gardens, went round Savignyplatz S-Bahn station and thrust towards the Charlottenburg and Westkreuz S-Bahn stations. This group was joined by smaller groups emerging from the U-Bahn stations.
The bitter fighting lasted until morning. Our tanks and the whole of the artillery were engaged in this small sector of the front. Our riflemen fought with much sacrifice, earning the highest praise from our tank-men. They were like guardian angels in the narrow streets.
The Fascists could no longer get out of Berlin, and were caught in the trap. Now General Leliushenko’s 4th Guards Tank Army from the south and General Perchorovitch’s 47th Army of the 1st Byelorussian Front from the north both reached the Potsdam area and reinforced the rear.
Together with our own submachine-gunners, scouts and staff officers, I went carefully to my battalions. On our way we came across a gallows from which three German soldiers were hanging. A placard read: ‘Court-martialled for cowardice. This punishment awaits all who do not protect the Fatherland. 25th April 1945.’ One of my escorts wanted to cut the ropes, but I forbade him. The Germans should see for themselves where their Fascist Führer and their so-called People’s Community had led them.
We worked our way further forward. A heavy pregnant darkness full of smoke and the smell of burning was sinking over the Fascist capital.
Another day of war was coming to an end. Towards evening we received two contradictory orders. The corps chief of staff, Colonel G. S. Pusankov, ordered the attack towards the Zoological Gardens to be abandoned; the corps commander General Novikov decisively ordered an attack in this direction.
Fortunately darkness shrouded the city. We decided to use the night to pull the Rear Services in closer, reassemble the dispersed battalions and redeploy the artillery.
A liaison officer from the corps staff reached us in the early hours of the morning. He had wandered all night through Berlin to deliver a written order from General Novikov. In it I was ordered to withdraw the brigade from Savignyplatz, whereby both the line of attack and boundaries were also altered. The move was to take place in the first half of the night. What should I do now? Night was already coming to an end and we could hardly fulfil the order.
I could actually have punished the liaison officer for his lateness, but was he really responsible? He had tried despite everything to find us, had been lost for hours in the destroyed city and had thus come to within a hair’s breadth of the enemy. A punishment would not have made the fulfilment of the order any quicker. At least to make up a little time, precise orders and decisive handling were required. Already within a few minutes every member of the staff knew his task and I made off to the battalions. I first drove in the car, then climbed in my tank, and finally had to go by leaps and bounds on foot from building to building.
According to the map, the distance between the staff and the leading units was over a kilometre, but two hours passed before I reached my goal. Now I could really understand what the liaison officer had gone through and was happy that I had not taken any action against him.
In the dawning light I made out tanks, artillery and numerous soldiers next to a bright two-storey building. I went up to them, entered the building and reached a large room upstairs. Sitting there were all those I was looking for: Ossadtchi, Gulevaty, Staruchin, the commanders of the artillery battalions, the sappers and the scouts. They rose as I entered.
‘What are you up to, comrades?’
‘We are waiting for you,’ said Staruchin immediately.
‘How did you know I was on my way?’
‘From the chief of staff,’ said Gulevaty and pulled a creased map out of his boot.
I explained the corps commander’s requirements to the officers, gave each unit its battle task and laid down the timetable.
Following a short snack – there was porridge and tea – I wanted to go over to the 2nd Battalion. Suddenly an unusual silence fell over the big, almost overfilled room. Even the usually constantly talking Ossadtchi was quiet.
‘What’s the matter?’ I asked Gulevaty.
‘The deputy political adviser of the 1st Battalion, Andrei Malanuschenko, died last evening.’
For a moment I stood as if numbed, but then followed my comrades into a room nearby in which the fallen man lay. Silently I saluted him and took my farewell from him. Again it had happened to someone immediately before victory. I slowly turned round and left the room.
As we were going down the stairs I heard a German voice. Immediately afterwards a door opened on the ground floor and men, women and two girls entered the hall.
‘Who are these people?’
‘The occupants of the house,’ explained Ossadtchi. ‘They had been hiding in the cellar.’
The owner timidly reported about himself and his family. He was a professor of theology. With him were his wife, his younger brother (a scientist), his daughter and a niece. Distractedly I listened to the professor’s muddled report, looking at his family and suddenly saw before me the ghosts of my parents and sisters murdered by the Fascists in 1942. On the first floor of this building lay our dead comrade. How the Fascists would have dealt with this in our place was known not only by us but certainly also by the professor.
‘What are you going to do with us?’ he asked timidly.
‘Nothing. In any case, go back down with all your family, it is safer there.’
However, for the whole day I had to think about Andrei Malanuschenko. I simply could not imagine that I would never see him again.
The corps commander’s order to go to the Westkreuz area was not completely fulfilled. We could not make up for the time lost by the liaison officer, and my trip to the battalions made no difference. Then came the news that the 2nd Battalion was without communications. Murderous fire drove us into a cellar.