Tank Rider: Into the Reich with the Red Army

THE BATTLE FOR LVOV

On 19 July we spotted German defences in front of a village. The battalion dispersed and formed a line; our company deployed and advanced towards the village, to the left of the road, while the 3rd company under Senior Lieutenant Kostenko advanced to the right of the road. We had learnt lessons in the battles at Bobrka and the 2nd company remained in battalion commander’s reserve. In a ravine we encountered two men in Soviet uniform. They said that they were Il-2 pilots, shot down by German fighters during a ground attack mission at the outskirts of Lvov and were trying to get back to the Russian lines. They asked for food, we gave them bread and canned food and advanced in attacking line. The pilots told us that there were no Germans in the trenches, and they were right. However, there was a barbed wire fence in front of the trench – Bruno’s coil, as it was called. This was a roll of barbed wire one metre high and one metre wide. We tried to jump it over, but it did not work out. I ordered several rain capes to be put over it, and we crawled over them to the other side of the obstacle. It was nice that the enemy was absent, otherwise we would have been stuck in front of that obstacle.

We entered the village and the villagers emerged one by one out of their shelters. Some soldiers went into the houses and were given milk and white bread. They brought me some, but I did not drink the milk, just had a piece of bread. For some reason the kitchen had again fallen behind and we did not have any food from the evening of the previous day. When we left the village, none of us were hungry any more. After that village we marched both on foot and on tanks. The German air force did not leave us alone and thus we moved westwards in stages.

Twilight set in, the German air force finally departed and we could continue our march in a normal manner. Later in the evening I and my platoon reached some village, unfortunately, I no longer remember its name. Ahead of us, about one or two kilometres away, lay the city of Lvov. When I reported to the battalion commander, he permitted the soldiers to rest. He gave an order to me to advance on Lvov early in the morning of the next day. It must have been 20 July, 1944, my birthday – I was 21 years old.

Because of platoon leader Petr Shakulo’s light wound, I was put in charge of his platoon as well. Petr’s assistant platoon leader was Sergeant Savkin – a brave man, I knew him well from battles in Kamenets-Podolsk and had a great respect for him. Savkin was a reliable man, soldiers obeyed him and respected him. It was just us two officers that remained in the company.

I should say that only our 1st motor rifle battalion approached Lvov, or, rather, a company and the battalion HQ – Battalion Commander Kozienko, Political Officer Gerstein and Head of Staff Grigoriev, my platoon and Shakulo’s platoon (without Shakulo himself). The 3rd platoon with the company commander Chernyshov was left behind at some road crossing (platoon leader Gavrilov was wounded) in case the Fritzes appeared. Guschenkov was also wounded. The 2nd company (company commander Shtokolov) was also left as a guard at some hill. The 3rd company (under Kostenko) was left to assist the 16th Guards Mechanized Brigade, which was stuck in street fighting in the town of Peremyshlyany, south-east from Lvov. The 2nd and 3rd battalions of our Brigade were somewhere else, while the 56th Tank Regiment left our battalion, fulfilling other missions. Thus, the battalion commander ordered me to capture Lvov with two platoons, which had 30 to 35 men. A huge city and a handful of soldiers.

We approached Lvov from the south, not from the east; the enemy did not expect us there and there were almost no German troops in the area. To be honest, I was afraid to enter the city without armour support. I did not like to assault or advance without tanks. Tanks always meant additional courage for us and additional fear for the enemy. We supported each other in battle, especially in built-up areas and forests. It is hard to fight without tanks, as it is hard for them to fight without us, the tank riders. Both the tank crews and ourselves were used to this co-operation. Without tanks we felt like a naked person in the winter, I cannot find any better comparison. It is bad without armour.

In short, on 20 or 21 July, 1944, I summoned the squad leaders and explained the mission, that had been given to me by Captain Kozienko, battalion commander (one month later he became a Major). At dawn I and two platoons of our company, as well as the machine-gun platoon of the 3rd company of our battalion under Lieutenant Tsikanovski, attacked Lvov. The city was built in the western manner, alongside large apartment houses there were individual mansions, surrounded by iron fences or mesh. There were a lot of small crooked, sometimes steep, streets in the city in addition to the wide boulevards.

Trenches could be seen at the outskirts of the city. It was these that we attacked in a line. Just in case I sent one squad (seven or eight soldiers) ahead as a scout party. The scout party reached the trenches and reported that there were no Germans there. I ordered the squad to come out on to the asphalt highway and advance into the city on that highway. I turned the company to the road as well, and we followed our advanced point on the roadsides. This is how we entered the city – ahead of us, some 150-200 metres away, there was the vanguard, and the rest of the company proceeded as two columns of one on the roadsides. Two local men welcomed us. One of them held a tray with glasses, while the other held two bottles of vodka, pouring it into the glasses. Each one of us came up to them had his shot of vodka and marched on. I also did this with thankfulness, I even had two shots. We entered the city from the southern outskirts, along Kultparkovaya Street. To the left of the road there were small houses, one and two storeys high, while to the right there was a wooden fence. We did not encounter enemy, it was quiet as if there were no war, and the sun was at its hottest. But we could in no case be offguard, as we were not waging war against amateurs. On the contrary, we faced well-trained, strong and resourceful soldiers, one could expect anything from them. I warned my soldiers that we had no right to relax because of the small size of our force, which was only armed with two Maxim machine-guns. One of the Maxim crews was under Sergeant Ivan Zakharievich Chechin – a young, brave and selfconfident fighter, with whom I fought side by side till Victory Day.

We did not advance deep into the city but consolidated our position in the empty houses at the city’s outskirts, as the battalion commander ordered it. In any case, we advanced one block into the city. The battalion commander and his staff were stationed in front of the city, but established telephone communication with me. Our kitchen was again absent – it was burnt in an air raid, so I sent soldiers to look for food in surrounding houses. We managed to get hold of some food from the locals – in any case, we did not go hungry. Senior Lieutenant Kashintsev, the commander of the artillery battery of our battalion arrived together with Israel Solomonovich Tsikanovski (we called him Semyon). Kashintsev brought along one 45 mm gun, which was towed by the crew, but it only had a few rounds. The rest of the battery, supply trucks and prime movers were destroyed by the German air force during the march to Lvov.

I liked Kashintsev, sometimes stuttering, but ever cheerful with a sharp mind and a good sense of humour. At that time he was 27 years old. He was an interesting person and a veteran of many previous battles. I was glad that he came. Then Tsikanovski and I had someone to consult with about how to capture a huge city with a company of soldiers. We did not advance deep into the city, I was afraid of entering the maze of narrow streets, which had no shelter and where it was impossible to dig in. We could not advance through the gardens because of high metal fences of private houses. Somehow, there had been more space in Skalat and Kamenets-Podolsk – we had not encountered any fences of that type. We did not have any tanks with us; we would have felt safer with them. Of what use was the 45 mm gun with five rounds? Just a joke. We did not have any information about the enemy, its positions and presence of enemy armour. The battalion commander did not give a detailed mission to us – such as where to advance in the city. He did not bother us, we did not bother him, and that was a mistake.

It was quiet and calm, no one fired at us, the German air force was nowhere to be seen, and we had food. They were warm sunny days. After days of intensive march and battles on the way to Lvov this was bliss to us. We prepared to face the enemy: placed our machine-guns, even put the 45 mm gun into position. We dug trenches by the houses to defend against air raids. We had a schedule for observers and a squad on duty. Tolya Kashintsev and I decided to inspect the nearest houses. I sent two squads ahead to check what was happening in front and to the sides of our street and, without going too deep into the city, interrogate the locals, if any could be found anywhere. So far the city looked dead – locals were nowhere to be seen, some houses were abandoned.

Searching the area, Kashintsev and I found a German hospital, which was stationed in three or four four-storey buildings. As far as we could understand, it was a hospital for mentally ill soldiers. We found some German personnel of the hospital. In broken German I ordered them to feed the patients and take care of them. They understood me and we did not come close to that psychiatric clinic. We had enough things to worry about, while Germans could take care of their mentally ill countrymen without our help.

We inspected several other houses, in a brick one we found the locals, who had gathered in that house from other buildings, more vulnerable to shelling. Our scout party came back, reporting the absence of Germans in the nearest houses. Other soldiers, who volunteered to examine the surrounding area, also came back. They spotted a German airfield close to us, but the enemy had abandoned it. The soldiers brought some food staples – mostly all kinds of canned food.

Night passed well; on the next day we did not receive any instructions from the battalion commander, and we were happy. Of course, we should have entered the city instead of having a rest, but we were exhausted and did not know anything about the enemy. We were all tired from our march to Lvov and especially tired of the enemy’s air force. German pilots strafed low, almost at ground level, firing their machine-guns and raining their bombs on us. They did all they could to prevent our advance, while we could only repel the aircraft with small arms fire. The effectiveness of this fire was the same as the effectiveness of medicine given to the dead. And all of a sudden we were in a quiet place: no shooting, no bombing, no hunger either. It was nice and warm, summer time. It seemed like a resort to us, at least a nice holiday house for us.

The next day a sniper opened fire on us. As soon as someone appeared in an open place, a shot sounded. We could not spot his firing position for a long time. Finally, through binoculars we found out that a sniper had fired from the attic of a five-storey building. Late one afternoon volunteers secretly approached the building and went up to the attic, but the sniper was off and away, while neither I nor my soldiers were quick-witted enough to leave an ambush there. Most likely, he was not even a German, but a Ukrainian or Polish independence fighter on his own. He never reappeared.

Two or three days passed like this, and we were still hanging around in the city’s outskirts. Tsikanovski, Kashintsev and I were not brave enough to assault a huge city with half a company of soldiers – 30 or 35 people. The battalion commander did not bother us and we did not bother him, but all of a sudden company commander Senior Lieutenant Chernyshov arrived. It would have been better if he had never shown up. All he did was cause confusion and mess; later he again disappeared. Chernyshov made a decision to advance to the city centre; we advanced along one of the streets. At that instant a person in civilian dress appeared, who showed a Soviet passport and started to convince Chernyshov to advance faster to the city centre. Despite my admonitions not to trust the guy, he did not agree with me and ordered us to advance. An order is always an order, we had to comply, and we cautiously continued our advance along the street.

Before we could cross many streets, German infantry with two armoured personnel carriers showed up in our rear. It was as if they were waiting for us to go deeper into the city and then cut us off from the battalion staff. There was not much infantry, but the Germans were armed with machine-guns, the worst being the APCs with machine-guns; we did not have a weapon to combat them. The civilian disappeared, soldiers later told me that he ran to the Germans. The Germans opened a storm of fire from all types of weapons, mainly from machine-guns. We were not ready to strike back, but many soldiers kept their heads and returned fire. I do not remember how I ended up with a submachine-gun in my hands, but I also opened fire on a machine-gun crew from behind the fence.

However, we could not deliver a single attack, as we were separated by the street. Some soldiers fired individually, others ran away behind the houses, almost to our previous positions. Chernyshov ran back to the platoon, which was in defence in the rear of the battalion HQ. He told me: ‘You manage things here yourself, while I go to see the battalion commander,’ and then disappeared. Somehow I organized the defence and calmed the soldiers down, suppressing the confusion.

It was amazing that we did not have losses, because there was no shelter except for the houses, and the doors were locked as a rule.

Sergeant Savkin showed stoicism and courage in that fight. This man was never at a loss and was always acting as platoon leader for Lieutenant Shakulo, when the latter was wounded, and he was trusted as an officer. In that fight Savkin with several soldiers had to keep the Germans at bay all day long. It was good that they hid behind a high metal mesh fence and the Germans could not overcome it under fire of our soldiers. The German APCs were also helpless.

Nikolai Savkin was angry at me because I did not support him with another group of soldiers in that fight. Only after it grew dark did I reach him with my soldiers; the Germans had already abandoned the battlefield. Apparently, the Germans wanted to delay us for some time, depriving us of the possibility of advancing to the centre. A soldier went missing in that fight, he was around 40 years old, and our search for him did not produce any results. Savkin’s soldiers told us that that soldier was Polish and was from either Lvov or its suburbs. Probably that soldier just went home, deserted – it is hard to say. Anything can happen in the war; that’s why war is war.

I should mention that during the battles in Lvov a Lieutenant (I do not remember his name) arrived with a battery of 120 mm mortars. He failed to find his unit and decided to stay and fight the battle together with us. Of course, we warmly welcomed him. His battery had four mortars with a full boyekomplekt [complement] of mines, each mine weighing around 16 kg. The Lieutenant was dashing. Many times we climbed into the attics of a tall building and he adjusted the fire on the enemy from there. In any case, it was of assistance to us. In order to be on the safe side and not be convicted of desertion, the Lieutenant asked for a letter that would state that he took part in battles for Lvov. I wrote such a letter, signed it and got it stamped with the battalion’s stamp.

One day in late July (24 or 25) a T-34 tank showed up some 500 to 700 metres from us. Apparently, it did not notice us and we could not establish communication with it. The tank disappeared in the labyrinth of the city streets and we never saw it again. It was only many years later that I learnt the story of that tank and its crew. The tank was knocked out, the whole crew died except for the driver. They were all awarded with the status of Heroes of the Soviet Union. The crew of that tank is considered to be the first one to enter the city, although it was Tsikanovski and me with our soldiers who entered the city first. Apparently, battalion commander Kozienko did not report on time to the brigade commander that we had entered Lvov. The only thing that consoles me is that we did not fight for history, and we did our soldier’s duty without paying attention to who was first and who was second.

In the course of those battles Lieutenant Oplesnin, submachinegun platoon leader from our battalion, went to the city centre dressed in civilian clothes with a local Polish guy, who could speak German. Several times they ran into German patrols, but everything went well, and knowledge of the language helped them.

Also in late July (25 or 26), our tanks from the 10th Guards Tank Corps arrived, but they entered the city at some distance from us. Their actions made us bolder, and we also advanced into the city in order to cut the road that fleeing Germans used for retreat and capture the railway station and crossing. We completed the mission, consolidating our positions in two smaller abandoned buildings, there was not even any furniture in the rooms. The city was not damaged, neither our nor the German air force bombed it, and it seems that it was only our half company that was involved in street fighting in the city. As soon as our tanks entered the city, The Germans evacuated the city almost without a fight. The Lieutenant that joined us with his 120 mm mortars was with me throughout the battle. He rained down his mines on the highway that the Germans used for retreat from Lvov, we cut another highway, and the Germans only had one road for withdrawal. However, quite soon the Germans ceased movement on that road as well, having chosen a less comfortable but safer route of retreat.

I decided to send several soldiers to find out what was in front of us, whether the Germans had stayed in their positions or abandoned them. They returned and said that there were no Germans. They brought along several piglets from a huge refrigerator that they found – the Germans had not managed to evacuate food supplies from there. There was a lot of canned food and other stuff, but mostly the refrigerator was filled with piglets. I had to send other soldiers to the refrigerator; we managed to keep some food for the future and cooked a fantastic dinner. It had been a long time since we had had such an abundance of food. In general, I did not forbid the soldiers to get their own food, especially given the fact that we had not seen the battalion kitchen for a long time. However, I strictly warned the soldiers and they never looted the locals, as they knew my strictness and harshness in this respect.

On 27 July, 1944, Lvov was fully liberated from the enemy. The battles for the city ceased. I should mention that the city had been under German occupation for three years (1941–1944), but we met five or six Jews, who had been hidden from the Germans in a shelter by their acquaintances. One evening, some time after Lvov was fully in our hands, Semyon Tsikanovski told me that we had been invited by several Jews for a dinner on occasion of the city’s liberation. For three years these people had been suffering, but survived and were happy. They welcomed us in the warmest possible way. The table was served just like before the war: Moskovskaya vodka, sausage, ham, canned meat and fish. How on earth did they manage to get all that food? Everything was very tasty, and we had a nice evening, just like being back home.

We stayed for several days in Lvov. The 2nd and 3rd companies arrived in those days – they had separate missions. After the arrival of the rear and support units the Brigade has finally gathered all its units.

On 29 July the battalion received a new order – to attack towards the Polish town of Peremyshl. However, several kilometres before the town our Tank Army commander, Lelyushenko, directed the battalion to the south, towards the town of Sambor and further towards the Carpathian foothills, towards the oil fields. There was no major action, the enemy retreated and did not try to delay our advance. Only in one place, at a large village, did the battalion encounter resistance. We dismounted our tanks and rushed into the village. The terrain was swampy behind the village, pitted with large trenches, apparently for drainage. Tanks could not offer any significant support to us in this terrain. We had to attack right from the village without tanks or artillery support.

My platoon attacked some sort of a factory, as it turned out later, a distillery. The enemy stopped us with heavy small arms fire, and we had to lie down in the swamp. We did not suffer losses, but the enemy’s fire prevented us from advancing further, especially because in front we could see the stone wall of the factory. We could not see the enemy, while we ourselves lay exposed. As soon as the Fritzes spotted any movement in our lines, they fired, forcing me and my soldiers to lie completely still. It took me a lot of effort to make it to a dry spot, seven or eight soldiers made it out of the swamp with me. We ran behind a house and started to look around, trying to find a way to drive Fritzes out of the factory’s brick buildings.

I ran forward on dry land, trying to find a better way to attack the enemy, and show the soldiers, who were stuck in the swamp, a route of retreat to a dry place. The Fritzes noticed me and opened fire on me, not from small arms, as it was usually, but from a small-calibre mortar, apparently a company mortar. We encountered such mortars sometimes, although they quickly disappeared. Shells exploded not far from me. I ran, paying no attention to the fire on me. I ran as fast as my feet could carry me, while mines exploded behind me, all falling short. I ran at least 50 metres like this, before I ran behind a house. I was not even wounded, but by hunting me, the Fritzes had been distracted from the soldiers in the swamp, and they managed to run and sneak to a dry spot and hide from the enemy’s fire. If the Germans had aimed longer, I would have been in serious trouble from mortar fire. I would run and a mine would explode behind me, then I would accelerate and it would fall short again. Owing to my talent as a sprinter I got off unharmed. I rarely ran that fast.

When twilight fell, we left that swampy area, joining Lieutenant Shakulo’s platoon. Shakulo arrived from the hospital while we were at Lvov. He was lightly wounded at the beginning of that operation. Company commander Chernyshov was not there, and no one knew where he was. As early as during the day Shakulo and I received an order to gain possession of the village behind the swamp. We decided to attack the village along a good road, as soon as it grew totally dark. At first fortune was on our side, but as soon as we almost reached the edge of that village, the Germans opened a withering machine-gun fire on us. We lay down, and I consulted with Petr Shakulo what to do next. Eventually, we decided to wait for the Germans to make a pause in their fire, rush to the nearest houses of the village and act from there. So we did, although the Germans fired on us with great accuracy – tracer bullets flew low and close to the ground. We hid behind the folds of the ground and managed to avoid losses.

When we reached the first hut, we realized that it was an APC that had fired on us. We did not dare go further – it was dark and nothing could be seen. We did not know where the enemy was, what his forces were, where the village streets were. We quietly withdrew and established a defensive position some 150 to 200 metres from the village on the banks of those large drainage channels. As dawn came, we looked around and decided to dry our uniform at that spot. As it turned out later, we were right to retreat from that village – at dawn we spotted the arrival of German tanks in the village, and Tigers were a formidable opponent

Exhaustion was overwhelming, and in the daytime, in the sunlight, we fell fast asleep. Apparently, the men at the combat outpost also fell asleep, and the Germans took advantage of this. They secretly approached us through the ditches, captured a sleeping soldier from Shakulo’s platoon and dragged him to their side as a ‘tongue’, a prisoner for interrogation. That soldier yelled like an animal, as the Germans wanted to take him prisoner in broad daylight. Such a thing had never happened even at night, and this was during a warm and sunny day, with the sun was at its peak. The soldiers woke up at this animal cry and opened fire, and some ran to rescue the man. One or two Germans fell dead, the rest dropped our soldier and ran away. No matter how hard we tried to get them, they disappeared. The soldier that the Germans had captured was barefoot, as he was drying his foot rags and boots in the sun. Many soldiers got wet in that swamp, and had to dry their clothes.

In general, the soldier got off lightly, he was even laughed at. We could not calm down for a long time after that incident, and Petr Shakulo gave a scolding to the soldiers who fell asleep on duty. This was the result of our carelessness, the guys forgot that they were in the war. One had to sleep in a special way during the war. Of course, we were always short of sleep – not always hungry, but always short of sleep. During even the slightest breaks in the fighting we would fall asleep. I was always sleepy and slept in every possible place and at every opportunity. Exhaustion was relentless – we were tired all the time in battles, both in day and night time. Breaks were short, as a rule.

We informed the battalion commander that enemy tanks and APCs had entered the village, but we had not captured it and thus failed the mission. The battalion staff also saw the Fritzes’ armour in the village, and ordered me to stay where I was, dug in with my platoon, while Petr Shakulo with his platoon was transferred somewhere to plug a hole in our defences that had to be filled.

During the day of 30 July a soldier came and reported that I was invited as ‘a guest’ by the third battalion’s company commander Senior Lieutenant Varennik. Escorted by this soldier and my orderly (I would never go anywhere alone at the front), I went for ‘a visit’. Varennik welcomed me warmly. The snacks were excellent and there were also some drinks. We had a nice time together with him. I was glad to talk to my brother-officer, as at the front, in battles one could rarely meet a comrade, especially from the neighbouring battalion. Also, I did not think that the officers from the other battalions knew me, although personally I knew Varennik. Later he became deputy battalion commander of the 3rd battalion. In that period his company was to the right from my platoon. There were no other units, the leadership forgot about us, neither he nor I had a ’phone line to the battalion HQ. This is why we had such a nice resting session with him at the table, no one bothered us, even not the Germans – such a thing was quite rare at the front. The next day, 31 July, we disengaged and left this ‘water battlefield’. For some reason I was again the only commanding officer left in the company. Company commander Chernyshov did not appear, while the platoon leaders – Gavrilov, Guschenkov and Shakulo were wounded, Shakulo for the second time.

After these couple of days of rest, we received an order to advance again towards Sambor, a town some 80 or 90 kilometres south-west of Lvov, on the Dniester river. Captain Kozienko, battalion commander, again did not appoint me company commander to replace Chernyshov, appointing machine-gun company platoon leader Lieutenant Karpenko for the office. Karpenko was a battalion veteran, he had fought with the battalion as early as in the summer 1943 at Kursk. I do not remember where Chernyshov was, probably lightly wounded. Several days later, on 2 August, Karpenko was killed in the vicinity of Sambor at his command post in a trench by a single splinter that went right into his heart. Telephone operators, orderlies and platoon runners were in the trenches next to him, but they were not hit, although the mine exploded closer to the telephone operators’ trench…

Near Sambor we dismounted the tanks at a forest edge. We received an order and the direction of advance; our companies deployed in a line and quickly walked forward. The enemy was not seen, no one fired on us – apparently, the Germans did not expect our assault in this area. We reached a village. Behind the village was a wheat field, on the river Dniester, and on the other bank of the river we saw a city. From my point of view, the offensive was poorly organized. Even now, recalling those fights, I cannot understand why it was so. No one knew where the enemy was, there was no reconnaissance done by the Brigade or its battalions. ‘Forward!’ – and that was it, we were supposed to hope for the best after that. Oh, this hoping for the best! The entire battalion, or to be more precise, what remained of it, almost got slaughtered.

The company reached the village, which only had one street, and we had to check the houses just in case. A threatening silence hung in the air. I was used to relying on intuition, and I did not believe that there weren’t any Fritzes in the houses. Machine-gun platoon leader Lieutenant Petr Malyutin from our MG company, however, did not agree with me, saying: ‘There are no Fritzes in the village, because it is quiet.’ It was this very quietness that scared me. I was about to send a squad of soldiers to check what was going on in the village, when Malyutin went out to the middle of the road and started to inspect the village through binoculars. A shot sounded – the bullet hit him right between the eyes and the binoculars fell apart into two pieces. Lieutenant Petr Nikolaevich Malyutin was killed on the spot. He was older than we were – he was around 36 years old; we dubbed him either ‘grandfather’ or ‘old man’.

There were no more shots; soldiers hid behind the huts, not daring to go out in the street. We did not attack the village at all. The battalion commander sent an order to advance towards the river in order to capture the bridge across the Dniester and further towards the city, leaving the village alone. We said, to hell with those Germans in the village, they would have had to retreat anyway when we captured the bridge. An order is an order, so I left the village with my soldiers and we quickly advanced across a field to the river. As soon as we got 100 to 150 metres away from that ill-fated village, we saw a line of Germans attacking us from the rear. The Germans walked openly and fired submachine-guns at our line. To be honest, we were lost when we saw the German attacking line behind us. Despite of all soldiers being experienced and having been in all kinds of troubles, we were taken aback.

I did not lose self-control and shouted to my soldiers: ‘Fire on the Fritzes, fire!’ I also shouted to the Maxim machine-gun crew: ‘Turn the machine-gun and fire on the Fritzes!’ I was not even shouting, I was yelling at the top of my lungs. Many soldiers opened fire, while the others ran from the enemy’s line, retreated and thus frustrated Tsikanovski’s machine-guns – they could not fire on our soldiers, of course.

Neither I nor the other officers managed to bring order and organize resistance, no matter how hard we tried – soldiers dispersed, at least it was good that many fired on the Fritzes. When no more soldiers were left in front of me, I also ran along the hillside to the road and lay in a ditch. I saw a light DP machine-gun, some soldier dropped it in panic, so that he could run faster – I grabbed it and opened fire on the line of German soldiers, as there was ammo in the drum.

As I fired, my garrison cap fell from my head, I put it back on and continued to fire, before I ran out of ammo. I did not have my own submachine-gun with me, although it would have been nice to have it in that moment. When I ran out of ammo, I withdrew, sometimes sneaking and sometimes in short rushes to the rear, where the fighters ran, or rather, frightened soldiers, one could not call them fighters – they had got scared by a bunch of 40 or 50 Germans! Later they said that there was also an APC, but they must have lied – the eyes of fear see danger everywhere.

Our group was not larger than the German one, though, but we had Maxim heavy machine-guns, although they ceased fire quite soon. It was either due to my fire or that of some stoic soldiers, but the Germans did not pursue us and quickly left towards the bridge, carrying their dead and wounded – apparently, our fire on them had been successful.

The Germans left, while we gathered together and started to debrief the clash with the other officers (including 3rd company commander Kostenko) and gathered the scattered soldiers. Our subordinates assembled too. I noticed that machine-gunner Ishmuhammetov sat there without a weapon, and realized that it was he who had dropped the machine-gun; I sent him to pick it up. It is infamy for a fighter to drop a weapon. Soldiers came back with a feeling of guilt, they were ashamed of their fear and cowardice in battle. The proud ones suffered twice as hard in their feelings, we also did not spare ourselves.

We distributed the returning soldiers between the companies and ordered them to dig in just in case. If memory serves me well, by some miracle we had no losses. The machine-gun platoon of the 3rd company under Lieutenant Tsikanovski had disappeared during the fight, but as it turned out later, they had had to hide in thick vegetation on the Dniester shores for some time. Several days later they caught up with the battalion on the march.

We were all hungry after the skirmish and arranged some snacks. During the meal one of the officers asked me: ‘Where did you tear your garrison cap?’ I took it off and saw two torn holes in it – in the front and in the back. It was only then that I recalled that the garrison cap had fallen from my head as I fired the machine-gun and told the story. The guys told me: ‘You were really lucky, Bessonov, if that sniper had aimed several millimetres lower, you would have been dead.’ They were right, I was lucky, really lucky. How many times have I been lucky? Quite a few. Luck at the front is quite an important thing. However, such luck does not happen very often.

By the evening our company, as well as the other companies of the battalion dug in on a dominant hill with a steep slope towards the river, some 150 metres from the river. Some units to the left us also tried to attack Sambor. The cannonade lasted some thirty minutes, Katyushas also took part, as well as heavier missiles, launched from the ground, not from trucks. Sometimes their missiles (M-31) were launched together with the launch frame, in order not to waste time for preparation. However, those units also attacked in vain, their assault was repelled and the Germans still held the bridge across the river and Sambor proper.

On the night of 2 August a heavy rain fell from the sky, water fell like a shower. The deluge continued all night and the whole day after. We had to ladle water out from the trenches with mess kits, and we were all soaking wet. The soil was so saturated with water that it turned into a total quagmire. In the evening the Germans decided to drive us out from that hill. Eight to ten T-VI Tiger tanks emerged from the bushes by the river. Probably, there were more Tigers, but I could not see all of them. At the time I did not understand how Tigers had appeared against us, and even now I cannot explain how they appeared. Regardless of how they made it there, the main thing was their assault on our defences. The Tiger is a serious thing. Our 76 mm gun could penetrate its armour only at a range of 50 metres.

The Tigers advanced slowly, with frequent stops, sometimes opening fire. We all hid in trenches, afraid to make a move. A tank could fire even on a single soldier, but they fired over our heads on some targets in the undergrowth behind us. It was good that infantry were not escorting the tanks. Apparently, they wanted to squash us with tanks without infantry support. At that very moment the rain shower and wet soil, as well as the steep slope played their positive role. The tanks were some 50 metres from us, when all of a sudden a miracle happened – the Tigers skidded on the wet soil and stopped. The tanks were stuck on one spot, their tracks were spinning, but the tanks could not move. We were lucky that because of the Tiger’s weight its tracks did not have good cohesion in the mud. The tanks could not approach our defences and they retreated to the line of attack, and then disappeared from our sight. Had it not been for the rain, they would have squashed us in our trenches. It was hot before the rain fell, and the soil was dry. Nevertheless, we suffered casualties – it was in that fight that Lieutenant Karpenko was killed and I again had to take over the company, though not for long.