Tank Rider: Into the Reich with the Red Army

The battalion, or rather what little remained of it, was lodged in huts in Vengertse Panenske village, which had been abandoned by locals. We buried platoon leader Lieutenant Savin and a private, who had been killed at the Sandomir bridgehead, at the edge of the village. The craftsmen of the battalion made monuments for their graves. We took full advantage of the lull and got our hair cut by the company’s handy-men, washed in the field banya (which in summer, and in winter, was nothing more than a tarpaulin tent), changed our underwear, ‘fried’ our uniforms in barrels and wrote letters home. While we were settling down, Lieutenants Petr Shakulo and Alexander Guschenkov came back from hospital, while Senior Lieutenant Grigori Vyunov arrived to replace wounded Gavrilov, who was still in hospital. As far as I remember, he was a political officer and had never led a combat unit before. We were not too curious, and he also tried to avoid the question as to why they sent him to us. The main thing was that he was a good comrade, a calm and cheerful person with a gentle character. He was around 30, and he was a bit too stout for a platoon leader, though of course he grew thinner later on. A new medic, a Sergeant, also arrived in the company. I do not remember his last name, and I probably never knew it, as everyone called him ‘Brotherly Heart’ – because of the way he began conversations with many men. He was around 40, or maybe a bit older. A cheerful and cordial person, he quickly became part of our team.

The company’s personnel lived in huts, most of us slept on plank beds, on hay covered with rain capes. Most importantly, we had a roof over our heads and a stove; although it was a bit crowded, it was not a problem. Company commander Chernyshov lived separately from us, while we all lived together; the company’s Sergeant Major Bratchenko also stayed with us. We slept on beds, two people on one bed, but sometimes just on hay. It was warm in the house, and as a rule we could take off our uniforms for the night. During the day we trained the personnel, and entertained ourselves in the evenings in different ways. We had a lamp made of an empty 45 mm shell – we burnt petrol with salt in it. Sometimes we would play cards, write letters, or go for a visit to the neighbouring company. We would often have conversations with the soldiers of the platoon. We would normally talk about ourselves, our relatives, sometimes soldiers had some requests or recommendations. If the company’s Sergeant Major could do something (he was the main administrator in the company), we informed him about the soldiers’ requests. Bratchenko really did not like to hear comments about his work, but he corrected his failures quickly. The soldiers liked these discussions, they felt that they were taken care of and knew that I was on their side.

Tsikanovski and I were awarded with Orders of the Red Star for the Lvov-Sandomir Operation. If Kozienko had taken the initiative and reported the action of the battalion or even our half-company in Lvov on time, then it might not have been impossible for us to have all received higher decorations, but I could not change things. I am also somewhat at fault in that I did not act decisively and did not go into the city centre.

On 7 November, 1944 the battalion commander organized a dinner for all the officers of the battalion to commemorate the 27th anniversary of the Great October Revolution.

The soldiers also received a special holiday meal, but it was all served without alcohol. For some reason we never received the daily Narkom’s (named after the Defence Minister who introduced the ration – translator’s note) 100 gram ration of vodka, but we found a solution – we started to make our own moonshine. Brotherly Heart, our medic, was responsible for making it in our company. The command persecuted underground moonshine manufacturing, but it was still widespread and flourishing. Moonshine made from sugar beet was strong (it could even burn), but it stank like hell so it seemed that our moonshine-making technology was far from perfect.

Battalion commander Kozienko would regularly inspect the companies and destroy the distilling equipment, but we would assemble it again and continue brewing alcohol. We would come from our training, have a half-glass of moonshine, and it would feel great, millet porridge seemed tastier. For some reason they only gave us millet meal – millet soup and millet porridge… There were heaps of potatoes of Polish owners lying in the fields, but we were forbidden to take them – the local population was sent away from the front area, but some managed to stay, while others visited every week or even every day. We secretly ate these potatoes though, but not every day. We were afraid of being punished for looting if caught, but everything worked out well.