Over Fields of Fire: Flying the Sturmovik in Action on the Eastern Front 1942-45

27. Frogmarched to training

The division commanders decided to send me on a navigation course in Stavropol. There was no need for navigators in Sturmoviks or in fighter planes: every pilot was his own navigator. But each regiment had a squadron navigator position: he was also the deputy squadron commander. Apart from that, there was a position of regimental navigator — the regiment’s deputy commander for navigation services.

I didn’t care much about these career steps: I only wanted to fly, and categorically refused to go on that course. Then the division commander General Get’man ordered Major Karev to ‘frogmarch’ me there in a Po-2. I could do nothing and had to yield. And now I was studying. There were six more ‘captives’ with me: four fighter pilots and two Sturmovik pilots. Our course leader was Senior Lieutenant Kalougin — a handsome chap with unruly brown hair, a kind smile and freckles on his nose. He had already become a well-known fighter pilot in our Aerial Army — by that time this lad had more than twenty shot-down enemy planes on his account.

There were as many teachers as students at the course, and the head of the course was a well-educated and kind-hearted man — Lieutenant-Colonel Alexander Petrovich Kilin. In two months the course was completed. We headed back to our 4th Aerial Army on the Stavropol-Krasnodar train. At one station we bought fresh newspapers, and shouted ‘hurray!’ — our fellow student Senior Lieutenant V. Kalougin had been awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union! We’d already known about our comrade’s feat from the Army and Front-level newspapers, and from leaflets dedicated to the fearless aerial fighter. During one battle against a group of enemy bombers intending to bomb our installations the Senior Lieutenant, having expended all his ammo, went for ramming. Choosing the right moment, he moved up against a Junkers and chopped off its wing with his propeller. The Junkers turned over awkwardly and in an instant hit the ground and exploded. The other Fascists turned westward, and the gallant pilot led his damaged plane to his aerodrome and landed safely. Next day Kalougin had to ram again — and again, having destroyed an enemy bomber with a blow to his tail assembly, he managed to make it home. “Two rams in two days!” the newspaper wrote of his feat. “What a striking and convincing proof of the martial valour and high skills of the Soviet pilot, and his indomitable resolve to defeat the enemy at any cost!”

We were very happy about our comrade’s high award and decided to celebrate the event. At the station, on the spot, we bought a watermelon and some fruit, and when the train had taken off we began to honour the hero…

The train arrived in Krasnodar where the headquarters of the 4th Aerial Army was located, and from there we flew to our regiments. I returned to my 850th Ground Attack with joy, as if to my kinfolk, but my joy faded straightaway. The 20-year old commander of our squadron, Semyon Vasilievich Andrianov, had been killed in action with his aerial gunner Potseluiko… I remember feeling a lump rise in my throat — I was unable to ask or say anything — there were only memories before my eyes. And among them for some reason I recalled the marvellous drawings in an album my squadron commander once showed me.

“You’ve got talent, comrade commander”, I said him then.

“No, Egorova, you’re wrong. We simply had a good drawing teacher in our 11th School in Nizhniy Tagil. He ran a drawing club that I eagerly attended. For as long I can remember I always wanted to draw…”

“Well, join a college of arts after the war, Semyon Vasilievich”, I addressed the comesk by his first name and patronymic for the first time. “Your drawings are so good! Although I don’t understand much about drawing…”

“I love flying, Annoushka”, said Andrianov with unexpected affection. “But after the war, when we destroy the Fascists, I will take up drawing seriously…”

But our squadron commander would not live to see Victory. Semyon Andrianov was killed carrying out a combat mission 8 kilometres west of the Stanitsa Krymskaya. I was told that on that day a sixer of Sturmoviks was ordered to do a bombing raid on a concentration of tanks. The mission was set up by the Regimental Chief-of-Staff Yashin and he appointed Andrianov a group leader. The group was escorted by four LaGG-3 fighters from a fraternal regiment. They were to strike at the tanks from low altitude, for the weather was really complicated — the clouds hung just above the ground and it was raining… Our arms specialists loaded the planes with PTABs131 — 200 or 250 in each compartment, loaded the cannons and machine-guns, fixed the rockets, and Andrianov took off exactly at the designated time.

By the way, the Sturmoviks could not always use all their capabilities when striking from low altitudes. For example, strikes by PTABs upon tanks were usually successful, but 100-kilogram bombs had to be dropped with delayed fuses — otherwise your plane might be damaged by shrapnel from your own bombs. And the accuracy of bombing from these heights would be sharply reduced. It was very hard to use cannons, machine-guns and rockets when attacking from such low level. One had to gain height, for the tank cannons had enviable accuracy! But Andrianov’s group had no height, and the comesk knew the mission had to be accomplished at any cost. He accomplished it at the cost of his own life…