As we were getting rid of numerous barricades, the 56th Tank Brigade caught up with us. With long energetic steps Sacha Sliussarenko came up to me. ‘Dima, you must help me out of a jam.’
‘Why, what has happened?’
‘My tanks are standing still, I have no more diesel. Give me at least three or four fuel trucks so that I can reach Prague.’
I asked our Rear Services and discovered that we ourselves only had five truck-loads of diesel left. That would hardly be enough for us, as Prague was still 150 kilometres away. So, even with the best of intentions, I could not help my friend.
‘That is not comradely,’ Sliussarenko began to complain.
‘Sacha, I can’t help you. If we share out the fuel now, there will be insufficient for any of us to reach Prague. And what help would that be to the uprising?’
‘You must give me at least two tankers.’
Now Dmitriev tried to convince him, but his arguments too had no effect. Sliussarenko would not give up. Finally friendship won. I could well understand my colleague’s frame of mind. I wrote a chit ordering the head of the technical services, Milin, to provide the fuel. Sliussarenko left me smiling. Nevertheless he did not get a drop of diesel, for I did not know that our fuel trucks had got lost during the night and would only catch up with us again just before Prague.
Our route to Prague was difficult. On the narrow, twisting mountain tracks the enemy had erected and mined numerous tree barriers. Anyone leaving the track was in danger of toppling over. We had to clear away the barriers, defuse the mines and subdue the security units.
The sappers smoothing the way for us were heroic. The tanks climbed the slopes with difficulty, the engines running at full speed, and the overheated vehicles often had to stop. Tanks towed guns and the self-propelled guns had motorcycles hanging from them as the infantry climbed the slopes with difficulty.
The radio communications with corps were functioning again and General Novikov demanded more speed from us. Rybalko was also active. ‘Don’t mark time! Quicker! Forwards! Forwards!’ The people of Prague were still sending appeals for help. We understood the rebels. Their impatience had already been transferred to us. Nevertheless it was only with a great effort that we were able to get over the last kilometres of the mountains.
But our efforts were worth it, for we had reached the crest of the Erzgebirge. In front of us lay picturesque valleys and wooded mountain slopes. Here and there red tiled roofs peeped through the greenery.
Suddenly I heard the command: ‘Brigade commander to the head of the column!’ On the way I asked myself what it could be. Everything necessary had already been arranged.
Soon I saw in the distance some cars and an armoured car. Nearby stood Rybalko with several generals and staff officers. I jumped out of the vehicle. The army commander-in-chief received me with the words: ‘Why are you stopping here? Kalinin and Popov are already just short of Prague.’
‘We will be moving on in a few minutes.’
‘Good. You must enter Prague tonight. Don’t let yourself be held up. The fate of the enemy is already sealed but we must save Prague from destruction.’
The army commander-in-chief questioned me on the state of the brigade and about our reserves of supplies and fuel.
‘We’ll get there, Comrade General,’ I assured him.
‘“We’ll get there” is not the right impression,’ Rybalko rebuked me. ‘We are going to our friends, our brothers, and as Guardsmen you should be fresh, accurate and fully prepared for battle.’
While we were talking several soldiers and officers had gathered round. It was always like that when Rybalko appeared.
‘We thank you for Berlin,’ the army commander-in-chief said to the men. ‘You are great lads and have fought bravely. Many of you will get decorations.’
‘Remember, Comrade General, you promised to come to us in Wilhelmstrasse. We have unfortunately given up waiting for you.’
‘How can I make up for it?’ Rybalko parried smiling. ‘How could I make my way through to you? The streets were blocked. I will certainly honour my word in Prague, God willing, if I get there before you.’
‘We will make every effort,’ said Dmitriev, who had been silent until then.
My brigade began mounting up and shortly afterwards we reached Teplice.
The town was decorated with banners, and Soviet and Czech flags flew from the town hall. The inhabitants had left their homes and celebrated around us. Everywhere one heard ‘Hurrah! Victory!’ and ‘I love the Soviet Union!’ Women and girls threw flowers at us. We experienced the same thing in every town and every village in Czechoslovakia.
The nearer we got to Prague, the more nervous the enemy became. He knew that he was now in the steel fangs of our tank armies. The demoralised soldiers abandoned guns, tanks and vehicles, and fled into the woods and mountains to break through to Karlovy Vary, Plzen and Ceske Budejovice. But wherever he went he came across our troops.
I climbed out of my tank into my Jeep, directed the headquarters vehicles to the head of the column and led the brigade into Prague at high speed.
We reached Chynow, a small village near Prague. The Fascists had accommodated themselves there like vandals, so we were most heartily greeted by the inhabitants. They climbed on our tanks, threw flowers down the hatches and put their arms round our tank troops. A young woman came up to me with a little girl in her arms. The youngster handed me a large bunch of flowers. I took the little girl in my arms, kissed her and gave her the star from my cap as I left. Some of the village inhabitants and soldiers photographed the scene. Especially enthusiastic that day was our cook, who also happened to be the brigade’s photographer. Several days later a soldier brought me a picture of the occasion – I still have it.
The last night of the war passed slowly. We spent it on the march. When the morning dawned we had already been standing on the edge of Prague. As we had received no further orders from the corps commander, I unfolded a map of Prague and looked for the city centre and castle, and on my own responsibility pushed through to Wenzelplatz Square.
From the city one could hear the dull rumbling of the artillery and the whipping of machine-pistol shots in the vicinity. Although fighting was still going on in the city centre, many of the city’s inhabitants were on the streets.
As we had to reckon with panzerfausts, I formed a column. Davydenko’s riflemen now marched at the head followed by the tanks, the headquarters and the Rear Services. Staruchin’s battalion formed the rearguard. We rolled on towards the Wenzelplatz. As some of the streets were blocked by barricades, we had to make our way through some narrow lanes. Suddenly we were unable to go any further, our route being blocked by a jubilant crowd.
Rybalko’s and Leliushenko’s armies marched into the city from all sides, each wanting to be first to reach the city centre, liberate Prague and put a final full stop to the end of the Great Patriotic War.
My 55th Guards Tank Brigade had put hundreds of kilometres behind it within the last days but nevertheless the army commander-in-chief had promised that we would meet in the city. With horror I thought what would happen if Rybalko discovered how long it had taken us to go the few kilometres from the city boundary to the centre.
We caught the high spirits of the Prague citizens. We were happy to have got there in time so that the Fascists had been unable to destroy it more.
The streets and squares filled with people. It was particularly noisy in the city centre. The people of Prague surrounded our tanks; hats and tank helmets whirled in the air. The tank soldiers and riflemen hugged each other. Again and again came the Czech ‘Nasdar’ and our ‘Hurrah’. With difficulty I escaped from the hugging and leant against the tank to get a bit of air. I was as if numbed.