[烛光生存狂]-【卫国战争老兵回忆】红军谢尔曼指挥官

发表主题： 426
发表回复： 422
网站暂行积分： 1940

【人类幸存者】

特别提示：本帖子在 2018-9-15 15:23:40 由用户 白瑞德 编辑过

The First Difficult Trials

Nineteen forty-three. The largest battle of World War II thundered on at Kursk in July and August. By November, the enemy had been thrown back to the right-bank Ukraine.1 With each day, the front line inexorably receded westward. Germany and its satellites were forced to go over to the defensive. Occasionally, the enemy made vain attempts to retake the strategic initiative from the hands of the Red Army.

Thus, at the end of November and the beginning of December, the German command launched a powerful attack northward from the area south of Belaya Tserkov[白采尔科维] [eighty kilometers south of Kiev], with the intent to liquidate the Soviet forces' bridgehead on the west bank of the Dnieper River[第聂伯河]. Although hurriedly occupying defensive positions, our infantry forces were unable to withstand the powerful enemy thrust. The German attack threatened Belaya Tserkov, the capture of which would put them on the near approaches to Kiev, the Ukrainian capital.

Units of the 5th Mechanized Corps were in their second month of reconstitution in the forests north and west of Naro-fominsk[纳罗-福明斯克] [sixty-five kilometers southwest of Moscow]. Seven hours were set aside each day for rest, and the remaining time was spent in study of the equipment, gunnery at a range complex, and tactical field exercises. The following method was employed in our 233d Brigade to accelerate the mastery of the equipment. Permission was given to one crew in each battalion to disassemble almost completely one Sherman tank. The design and function of each instrument, component, system, and the armaments were studied. We had the full opportunity, as they say, to put our hands on a piece of "live" equipment. Ten days were spent in this exercise, after which the tank was reassembled by its crew. The deputy battalion commander for maintenance, together with the chief mechanic, monitored the assembly process, and the battalion armorer inspected the main gun and machine guns. A new group of "students" arrived and studied the "American" by the same method. Detailed posters on the design and function of all the Sherman's systems and armaments had been issued in early October, and a good study guide had been published. Previous training methods were quickly abandoned.

Our training was interrupted on 15 November. An order was issued: during the night, the 233d Brigade's units were to rail-load at Narofominsk station and depart. To where? Only certain members high up in the chain of command knew the destination. By morning's first light, two of the brigade's first echelons [an echelon was one train] were on their way.

We experienced tankers understood: if tanks were being moved about by rail during the daylight hours, it meant that something bad was happening up at the front. By midday on 16 November, it became clear: we were going to Kiev. The train passed through one station after another, stopping briefly to change locomotives and allow the troops to be fed.

A day later, Kiev was behind us. We learned that the brigade would detrain at Fastov[法斯托夫] [sixty kilometers southwest of Kiev]. The lead echelon stopped suddenly in an empty field. A liaison officer from the staff of Second Ukrainian Front handed [brigade commander] Lieutenant Colonel Nikolay Chernushevich[尼古拉·切尔努舍维奇] written instructions and a map containing our combat mission: quickly detrain and, after conducting a road march, occupy defensive positions north of Fastov.2

It is easy to say, "Offload the tanks!" But how was this to be accomplished without any loading platform? Our first obstacle. And after this, another obstacle, no less troubling. The Sherman turned by using both differentials.3 This tank could not easily turn "on a dime," to rotate 90 or 180 degrees, not a problem for the Soviet T-34. The American tank required a significant area to turn around. How could this be accomplished on a flatcar? The front staff representative was in a hurry to get us offloaded. Apparently, the situation at the front demanded the immediate introduction of fresh reserves.

The brigade commander immediately called a conference. He familiarized those present with the contents of the order he had received and requested the battalion officers to express their thoughts on the offloading issue. The 1st Battalion commander, Captain Nikolay Maslyukov[尼古拉·马斯柳科夫], reported that his chief mechanic, Senior Sergeant Grigoriy Nesterov[谢尔戈奥尔·涅斯捷罗夫], had offloaded tanks in a similar situation. He agreed to demonstrate how to "jump down off the flatcar" to the driver-mechanics and tank commanders.4

The trail flatcar was pushed back several meters and stopped at a point where the distance to the ground was not more than a meter. The side was dropped. The driver-mechanic started the Emcha's motor, and "danced in place" with several somewhat risky forward and backward movements. It seemed that the iron monster would fall off the flatcar, but at the last instant the brakes held the machine tightly. Several agonizing minutes passed. Finally, the Sherman stood crosswise on the flatcar. It slowly moved forward, its nose suspended in air for a second, and then, a heavy thud. The planking groaned and popped, the metal sides of the flatcar squealed in protest. The tracks struck the ground heavily. Ballast from the roadbed and clumps of chernozem [black earth] flew in all directions. The motors raced and the Sherman lurched forward to level ground some fifteen meters from the tracks. The engines shut down. The head of Grigoriy Nesterov, the driver-mechanic, popped out of the driver's hatch, a broad smile on his sweat-covered face. The senior sergeant inspected the tracks and found them undamaged. The demonstration was completed with outstanding results.

Having observed this event, Lieutenant Colonel Chernushevich approvingly declared, "Circus artiste! A genuine virtuoso!"

The string of flatcars was broken down and staged at various locations where the crews had found suitable "trampolines" for driving their tanks off the flatcars. Ten minutes later, the powerful growl of motors, the crackling of splintering wood, and the noise of scraping metal hung over the steppe. Tank offloading was proceeding at full speed. Happy shouts rang out when a Sherman successfully "stepped off" onto the ground. And there were unhappy groans, as well. Two tanks lay on their sides. Several driver-mechanics massaged their swollen noses. The ill-fated tankers bustled about their "reclining" Emchas. Tanks coming from the flatcars quickly gathered around. They hooked onto the "lazy bones" with tow cables and righted them. The deputy battalion commander for maintenance, Senior Lieutenant Aleksandr Dubitskiy[亚历山大·杜彼茨基], and the driver-mechanics inspected all the components in the engine and crew compartments of the tipovers. There was no damage. The Shermans had withstood their trial by sudden collision. Fisher Body, Buick, Ford, and Chrysler had done their work well!

Two hours later, the brigade's battalions were ready for movement. The mutilated and abandoned flatcars stood on the tracks. After our field expedient offloading, they awaited a visit to the blast furnace.

Every journey begins with the first step. These steps were difficult. The autumn of 1943 was unusual in Ukraine: at night — a moderate frost, during the day—an occasional wet snow, and then rain. The roads were covered with a hard frozen crust during darkness that did not melt until midday. The Emchas had encountered a sort of skating rink. Each kilometer of the march route demanded great effort on the part of the driver-mechanics. The Sherman's tracks were rubber shoed to increase their service life and also to reduce the noise of their movement. There was practically no clanking of track, which was a trademark of the T-34. In these complex icy road conditions, the well-dressed tracks of the Sherman became its principal deficiency. It was as though the tanks were on skis.

The 1st Battalion moved out in the lead. Although the situation called for rapid movement, our speed was dramatically reduced. Whenever the driver-mechanic stepped on the gas, the tank became difficult to control. Even some of the experienced driver-mechanics ended up in the ditch or crosswise on the road. During the course of this "foxtrot" road march, it was confirmed that bad news does not travel alone. It quickly became clear that the Shermans were not only "easy sliders" but also "quick over-turners." One of the tanks, having slid on an ice-covered road, threw a track to the inside on a small rise on the road shoulder and quickly laid over on its side.5 The mouths of many tankers fell open in surprise. It was amazing to some. Our resident comic, Nikolay Bogdanov[尼古拉·波格丹诺夫], maneuvering around the overturned Sherman, muttered sarcastically, "Fate smiles at us. From here on in, we own this beast."

What was the cause? Why did the Emcha turn over so quickly? What did we have to do to prevent this from happening in the future, to protect ourselves from injury? How could we stop the tank from sliding and, as the tankers said, not go "belly up"?

Many tank commanders and driver-mechanics instinctively felt that the first cause of the disaster was the rubber-shoed track. They began to modify it by installing makeshift cleats. They twisted barbed wire on the outside edges of the track and installed bolts in the openings of the track blocks. The results were immediate. Our march speed increased sharply, and the journey was completed without further adventure. The brigade occupied a position three kilometers north of Fastov astride the highway leading to Byshev.

Days passed. The situation on the Kiev axis normalized. The forces defending the forward area stopped the enemy's offensive.

Brigade and battalion maintenance units began urgently to install cleats on the tracks (at any moment, an order might come down to road march to another position). In two hours, the Shermans had been "reshoed." Explanations were provided to all the tank commanders, driver-mechanics, and their assistants. There were three basic reasons for the Emcha's instability. The tank had significant height (3.14 m [10 ft., 4 in.]), a modest width (2.64 m [8 ft., 7 in.]), and a high center of gravity. This unfavorable ratio of closely related characteristics made the Sherman relatively unstable. Such somersaults did not occur with the T-34. It was lower than the American tank by 44 cm [17 in.] and wider by 36 cm [14 in.]. Its center of gravity was much more favorably placed.

I want immediately to say a good word about the manufacturer of the Shermans. Their representative was continuously available at the headquarters of the 5th Mechanized Corps. He scrupulously collected and studied all incident reports pertaining to the Emcha during its fielding, and through his own channels he reported them to the management of the appropriate companies. I can't recall his last name. It was categorically forbidden to conduct any kind of note-taking on the front line. But I remember we all called him Misha. Even now, at veterans' gatherings, we fondly recall how Misha, having observed a driver-mechanic attempting to tw1st something in the engine compartment, for example, with a key or a screwdriver, sternly spoke up: "This is factory sealed—tinkering is not permitted!" And the would-be tinkerer immediately lost the urge to turn and tighten screws. The Emchisti [Emcha[埃姆恰МЧ] tankers] later became convinced that these machines worked like a good chronometer with just normal maintenance resources.

Misha was quite distressed, even at times greatly depressed, that the Sherman demonstrated such poor maneuverability characteristics. He could not quietly look on at the efforts to improve the handling qualities of his firm's "baby." It was as though the arc welder had burned him personally.

Jumping ahead, I will remark that sometime in February of 1944, a complement of new tanks arrived in the brigade. In each tank's kit of spare instruments, lamp bulbs, and fuses were fourteen spare track blocks, factory-equipped with cleats. Thus the deficiencies of the tank's track had been quickly eliminated.

发表主题： 426
发表回复： 422
网站暂行积分： 1940

【人类幸存者】

特别提示：本帖子在 2018-9-15 15:24:30 由用户 白瑞德 编辑过

Rain, Snow; and Mud

The Korsun-Shevchenkovskiy[科尔松-舍甫琴科夫斯基] operation (24 January-17 February 1944) was conducted by the forces of two fronts: First Ukrainian Front, commanded by Army General N. F. Vatu-tin[瓦杜京], and Second Ukrainian Front, commanded by Army General I. S. Konev[科涅夫]. The goal of the operation was to encircle and destroy a group of enemy forces consisting of the 1st Panzer and 8th Armies of Army Group South in the Korsun-Shevchenkovskiy bulge.

Powerful strike forces of both fronts, concentrated at the base of the bulge, carried out attacks from converging axes and joined in the area of the city of Zvenigorodka[兹韦尼哥罗德卡]. Nine enemy infantry and one panzer division, along with a motorized brigade, were caught in the pocket. External and internal encirclement lines were established by 3 February 1944.

One of the particular features of this operation was that it was conducted in exceptionally complex weather conditions. At the start of the operation, Ukraine was experiencing an unusually warm winter. Rain or wet snow fell frequently during the day. At night, the temperature dropped to 25-28° F. The chernozem soil became so sticky that only tanks could move through it. The delivery of ammunition, fuel, and rations became extremely difficult. The troops were forced to employ horse, ox, and cattle teams to pull sledges. The local population, which had just recently been liberated from the Germans, carried shells, mines, and small arms ammunition by hand from one settlement to the next, where they placed this valuable cargo into the hands of others. This relay extended to the most forward positions. Aircraft delivered fuel for the tank armies.

The just-formed 6th Tank Army, consisting of the 5 th Guards Tank and 5th Mechanized Corps, belonged to the First Ukrainian Front. The 5th Guards Tank Army belonged to the Second Ukrainian Front.

The forces of the Second Ukrainian Front went over to the offensive on 24 January 1944 and of the First Ukrainian Front on 26 January. The shock groups of the fronts (the tank armies) surged toward each other—toward Zvenigorodka. The enemy launched fierce counterattacks on 27 January against the flanks of the attacking Soviet forces, attempting to liquidate the penetration. Artillery and tank formations of the fronts, with the support of aviation, beat back the enemy's counterattacks. On 28 January 1944, the shock groups of both fronts joined together in the Zvenigorodka area, having accomplished the encirclement of the enemy's Korsun-Shevchenkovskiy grouping. The German fascist command was forced to curtail their counterattacks against the forces of First Ukrainian Front east of Vinnitsa[文尼察] and north of Uman to redirect all panzer divisions to the rescue of the encircled forces.

The second distinctive feature of the Korsun-Shevchenkovskiy operation was the employment of tank armies not only for rapid encirclement of the enemy but also to create the outer encirclement ring in the shortest time (by 2 March 1944). In the conditions of heavy mud, tanks were able to maneuver to the specified iines of defense. The tank armies of both fronts (5th Guards Tank Army and 6th Tank Army) were reinforced by infantry formations, antitank artillery, and engineer sapper units. While the tank armies were forming the outer encirclement ring, combined arms armies were forming the inner encirclement ring.

I was an active participant in the Korsun-Shevchenkovskiy operation. After recuperation in a hospital in November 1943, I was appointed chief of armaments of the 1st Battalion, 233d Tank Brigade.

After the linkup of the tank armies of the two fronts in Zvenigorodka, our 6th Tank Army received the mission quickly to conduct a night march to the west to occupy a defensive position on the outer encirclement ring. Never before or after this occasion did I witness such a stunning scene.

The order called for all tanks and wheeled vehicles to turn on their headlights and proceed to the specified defensive positions. To maintain uninterrupted movement of the wheeled vehicles through the mud, several tanks were designated as "tractors." They towed up to two wheeled vehicles each through some sections of road onto dry ground. If it was required, they returned for other wheeled vehicles and repeated the exercise.

By employing headlights, we were able to maintain normal speed given the road conditions. But the primary goal of the command was to demonstrate to the enemy that significant forces were being regrouped. An area many kilometers wide and deep was ablaze with light. It was like an avalanche of troops.

The fascist command cast about in search of a way to save their surrounded force. They brought up powerful forces from other sectors. If at the beginning there were three panzer and three infantry divisions operating against the outer encirclement ring, then by n February the enemy had brought in an additional five panzer and three infantry divisions.

Countless attacks launched by the Germans to break into the encircled forces were defeated. The forces of the First and Second Ukrainian Fronts, defending on the outer encirclement ring, were at the same time fighting to liquidate the enemy trapped in the pocket. The Soviet command delivered a surrender ultimatum to the encircled forces on 8 February, which the enemy rejected.

On 11 February, the command of Army Group South launched a decisive offensive against the outer encirclement ring. The 1st Panzer and 8th Army, with forces of up to eight panzer divisions, attacked from the areas west of Rizino[利津诺] and Erka[叶尔卡] toward Lysyanka[雷相卡]. The encircled force attacked toward them, but this attempt to save the encircled formations and units also suffered defeat. By the morning of 17 February, the encircled forces had been liquidated. The enemy lost fifty-five thousand killed and more than eighteen thousand captured. Soviet troops captured an enormous amount of various types of combat equipment.

The Korsun-Shevchenkovskiy operation was one of the model operations for encirclement and destruction of a powerful enemy grouping. The inner and outer rings of encirclement were created simultaneously with the defeat of powerful enemy counterattacks and counterstrikes. Formations of the First and Second Ukrainian Fronts not only destroyed the powerful enemy grouping that had been caught in the ring but also defeated fifteen divisions, including eight panzer divisions, that were operating against the outer encirclement ring.

The employment of the tank armies—the 6th in the first echelon of the First Ukrainian Front for breaking through enemy defenses, and 5th Guards Tank Army and 6th Tank Army for defense on the outer encirclement ring—was an exception to the rule of Soviet military art.

The morning of 26 January 1944 was overcast. It was the second day of the tankers' offensive in unbelievably difficult weather conditions. It rained during the day, and wet clumps of snow fell at night. Visibility was poor in every direction. The enemy well understood that in these conditions, combat activities were possible only along roads. He took this into account in constructing his defense, concentrating his efforts on holding populated areas and the heights around them. At the same time, the terrain on the axis of the attack of the sth Mechanized Corps abounded in numerous gullies and ravines—paths of concealed maneuver of the troops of both sides in dry weather. But in the muck, they were suitable only for the movement of small groups of infantry with small arms.

The enemy either held the areas between battle positions under observation or carried out periodic patrolling. Occasionally, he paid no attention to certain areas, considering them impassable. "One should take into consideration that which the enemy ignores!"

Units of the 156th Tank Regiment, 45th Mechanized Brigade, were proceeding along an improved dirt road that passed through Zhazhkov[扎日科夫], Tynovka[忒诺夫卡], and Lysyanka.1 They were seven hundred to eight hundred meters short of Tynovka. The going was tough. The tanks of Lieutenant Gevorg Chobanyan[格沃尔格·乔巴尼扬] were attacking straight ahead. The commander soon came to realize that a frontal attack against this enemy strongpoint would entail significant losses. Enemy antitank guns were firing. They had good fields of fire, particularly along the road. The enemy believed that the road was the only avenue of approach and had sited his weapons accordingly.

The muzzle flash of a shot appeared from the area of a hay-stack. The track flew off one of the Shermans on the left flank of the combat formation. Chobanyan realized that its commander had not detected the origin of the enemy antitank round. Seconds mean everything in combat. The more so in a tank engagement. It would require priceless time to orient his subordinate in this situation. Traversing his turret ever so slightly, the company commander silenced the haystack with his main gun. A high-explosive round found its mark on the enemy gun and its crew.

Had the weather been good, and not slushy, the tankers could have easily negotiated this terrain. They had long ago developed a tactical drill: withdraw somewhat, then bypass the enemy resistance, and attack it on the flank or rear. It was standard procedure. But here the conditions were not so easy. Despite the difficulty, they accomplished the mission. And Chobanyan took a risk. It was completely justified. This aspect of the technical capability of the Sherman had somehow been forgotten. Under the pressure of events, however, he remembered. Just before the battle, during movement, the Emcha had demonstrated its traffic-ability in muddy terrain. This was a direct reflection of the ground pressure of the M4A2.2

Gevorg Avakovich[格沃尔格·阿瓦科维奇] decided to take advantage of the relative lightness of the Shermans and to defeat the enemy's fire in Tynovka with fewer losses. The weather had deteriorated even more, worsening the visibility toward the enemy. It was an opportune moment for carrying out Chobanyan's plan.

While the driver-mechanic and his assistant repaired the damaged tank, the gunner continued to fire the tank's weapons, drawing the defenders' attention to himself. Chobanyan left another tank near the road and led the remaining vehicles to the left, along the slope of a ravine. A ditchlike track lay on the surface of the softened chernozem, and the subsoil sustained the weight of the Emcha. Slowly but inexorably, the company crept around the north flank of Tynovka. Forty minutes had passed from the start of the flanking maneuver. The enemy had not detected the action of the bypassing group. The enemy failed to consider the foolhardiness of the Soviet tankers, who would risk crawling into a gully with rain-soaked soil. It turned out that this was not a fatal risk for the Shermans.

Gevorg Avakovich calculated that he had reached sufficient depth in his bypass, and now he could attack. He gave a radio command to the two tanks on the road—on signal they were to move toward the enemy along the road. He would attack with the remainder of the company from the flank. The suddenness of the attack would double its effectiveness. It would stun the enemy and reduce the level of his resistance.

Having carried out a brief reconnaissance, the desantniki3 determined that there were no defending enemy forces on the axis of the intended attack of the bypassing group. The enemy had not detected Chobanyan's company main body. He could delay no longer.

The signal was given. The attack commenced at reduced speed along the road. They were a small force, these two tanks, but they fired all their weapons. The other six Shermans attacked vigorously from the flank, with intensive main gun fires. The attack of Chobanyan's company fell like snow on the enemy's heads. Not more than two hundred meters remained to the village of Tynovka. The lieutenant ordered his subordinates to increase speed. The diesels revved, the cannons pumped out round after round. They had to reach the streets of this enemy strongpoint as quickly as possible. The intensity of the battle grew with each minute. The village's burning and destroyed homes were now becoming visible. Two muzzle flashes shone on the northwest outskirts of the town. A round slammed into the turret of a Sherman and, ricocheting, flew to the side. Despite the noise of the motors, driver-mechanic Senior Sergeant Markor'yants had turned his tank to face the threat. He quickly maneuvered the tank to the side and then drove forward.

The defenders realized what was happening and increased their fire against the flanking group. The submachine gunners had dismounted from several tanks and, moving through the mud, began to fall behind. Pity! They would be needed during the fight inside the village. Gevorg thoughtfully praised those soldiers who, despite the fire, remained on the tanks.

The Emcha of Aleksandr Sosnin[亚历山大·索斯宁], throwing up a mixture of mud and snow, careened through the gardens and yards. The lieutenant spotted a group of fascists with panzerfausts behind the ruins of a house. They were hurriedly occupying a firing position. This was Sosnin's first battle. A mound appeared several meters ahead, along his vehicle's path. Using abbreviated crew commands, the tank commander curtly ordered the driver, "Stop behind the mound!"

Its brakes squealing, the Sherman froze in place. The enemy antitank gunners, not realizing that they had been detected, were hurriedly preparing their weapons. Suddenly, they spotted our tank as it took up a covered position. They quickly ducked behind the house. But it was already too late. A precise burst of machine-gun fire forced them to the ground.

At the same time, a machine gun and several submachine guns rattled from the opposite side of the street. Our tankodesantniki, suppressed by the fire, also went to ground. A young infantry officer, his face blackened by gun smoke, ran toward Sosnin's tank. There was a brief conversation, normal in such situations. Without any delay, Aleksandr drove his tank toward the enemy targets to his front. The hurried forward rush of the Emcha stunned the enemy. The machine gunners and infantry attempted to save themselves by fleeing. But to no avail. Several were ground up under the tank's tracks. Throwing down their weapons, six Germans threw up their hands.

Combat in a built-up area is a series of rapidly flowing, fierce engagements with the enemy. Only continuous, mutually supporting fire and continuous forward pressure can achieve common success. The defenders were fighting stubbornly for the eastern portion of Tynovka, along the road to Pavlovka. Up to two squads of infantry, armed with panzerfausts, were supported by two antitank guns, with the possibility of tank positions in depth. Simply stated, this was a serious pocket of resistance that could not be taken from the march. It would be dangerous to attack head-on. There were too many antitank systems in the enemy position.

What to do now? The company commander pondered several alternatives. He could not maneuver—it was impossible inside the village. There was too much rubble of houses and outbuildings. It would not help to bypass the village on the left. There was a small grove of trees behind it, along the southern edge of the road, that would provide excellent concealment for antitank guns. These could fire effectively at the flanks of the attacking Shermans.

Only one option remained—to place the weight of the up-coming fight on the shoulders of the submachine gunners. They were fewer in number than before. But the Emchisti would support the attackers with heavy aimed fire. And while the desantniki bypassed nodes of enemy resistance, the tankers would attempt to decimate the enemy ranks with the power of their main gun fire. Mutual assistance. Chobanyan's tanks began to fire methodically at the enemy, who was seeking cover in the houses and vegetation. It prevented the enemy literally from raising up his head and firing precise bursts at our bypassing dismounts. Several precision volleys of the Emchisti destroyed both enemy guns and their ammunition carrier. They showered the more dangerous portions of the enemy position with high-explosive rounds and held these areas under continuous observation. The tankers were particularly zealous in searching out any suspected panzerfaust positions.

A green rocket arched into the sky—the signal that the submachine gunners had reached their attack position. Immediately a red rocket hissed upward—the command for the combined attack. The fierce twenty-minute battle began to die down. Displaying broken resistance, the enemy withdrew to the east. Darkness fell. Snow began to fall, then it began to storm. There could be no thought of pursuit. The company halted on a bare field 1.5 kilometers east of Tynovka. They were tired and hungry but satisfied with the just completed difficult fight.

The company commander decided to feed his tankers and desantniki with dry rations. He contacted the regimental commander to report the results of the fight for Tynovka and his present location. Chobanyan received information concerning the overall situation. The brigade main body, including the tank regiment, had beaten off an enemy counterattack from the south. The Germans had made ferocious attempts to liquidate the growing penetration into their defense. And so the tank company spent the night under the open sky. It was no joy to them that they were ordered to remain in position. Because of the poor weather, each platoon had to put out its own security. They had to remain alert in this weather, especially against enemy infiltrators.

The night passed quietly. The nervous company commander was at his post early in the morning. The sky was white, and snow continued to fall. The Shermans were white hillocks. At times, gusts of wind blew aside the shroud of precipitation. Chobanyan looked around at the southern slope of the hill on which his company stood. He blinked his eyes in disbelief. Below him some four hundred meters, blanketed in the same snow covering, stood seven or eight German Tiger tanks. The enemy was sleeping quietly, within submachine-gun range of each other. The darkness and storm had brought the sides, as they say, shoulder to shoulder. And then they had gone to ground. What now? The lieutenant feverishly sought a solution. In such a critical situation, he who opened fire first would have the upper hand.

Gevorg Avakovich climbed up to awake the crew of the closest Emcha, warning them to maintain noise discipline. He summoned his platoon commanders. Quickly explaining the situation to them, he showed them the enemy tanks that could be discerned on the terrain. Not a single person was visible. The bad weather had driven the Germans inside their vehicles.

Chobanyan's company began hurried preparation to commence firing. As a precaution, with the beginning of the heavy snowfall the night before, all gunners had stuffed rags in the turret apertures for their telescopic sights and coaxial machine guns. They had closed the covers over the commanders' periscopes. It was a simple matter to remove these elemental protections of the tanks' optical instruments, and in just a few moments, the guns were prepared for firing. The main guns were loaded and traversed to the proper deflection. The company commander waited minute by minute for daybreak to bring light to the morning sky. Everyone awaited the command: Fire! That they would destroy the enemy was a certainty. But the anticipated command did not come. Anxious moments passed. It seemed that their nerves were tingling. Gevorg's eyes teared up from the pressure. He got hold of himself. Be calm! Patience! Nothing had been lost yet. They simply had to wait for visibility to improve. No one could make it happen. Mother Nature had her own laws, not subject to man.

Somewhere in the heavens, above the low clouds, the sun rose, invisible from the ground. The weather slowly began to improve. The snow precipitation fell off with each minute, and soon it ceased altogether. Would they wait much longer? How slowly time passed. This was always the case when one awaited something or someone important. The air began to clear. The targets were not sharp, but they were visible just the same. It was time for a salvo. Fire!

Four simultaneous shots tore through the early morning silence. Two Tigers went up in flames. On the remainder, the turret hatches began to clank open. The enemy tankers, awakened in ignorance from their sleep, twisted their heads around searching for the firing enemy tanks. The second Sherman salvo gave them their final wake-up call. Three more Tigers were set afire. There were no answering shots. Some time later, it was established that there could be none. All the gunsight apertures in the turrets were packed full of snow.

Taking advantage of the smoke screen from burning Tigers, undamaged vehicles were hurrying in the direction of Pavlovka. The Emchisti celebrated. In such an unbelievable situation that had arisen out of pure chance, they had found themselves the victor.

An hour passed after this little disagreement with their neighbor. The sounds of the motors of heavy German armored vehicles reached the ears of our tankers. The sounds grew louder. There was no doubt. The enemy was moving in more forces for a counterattack, in all probability Tigers or Panthers. And doubtless accompanied by infantry.

Chobanyan again had to rack his brain in considering many unknowns: How much force was the enemy bringing forward? What was their mission? Would the remaining units of the 156th Regiment arrive soon? There were no answers to all these questions.

Gevorg Avakovich decided once again to rely upon the earlier tested principle —the reduced ground pressure of the tanks. For us inomarochniki, it would be a true and faithful servant over the course of the entire two months of traveling along the broken-down, muddy Ukrainian roads and occasional plowed field.

One of the peculiarities of the front-line period was that the more complex the situation became, the more sharply one's mind operated. The commander had to think only about himself and the mission, not about the actions of his subordinates. He had quickly to find an effective means of anticipating the enemy's actions, then to defeat him, and all of this with minimal losses to his own force.

Chobanyan instantly conceived a plan—to avoid a head-on clash with the enemy, he would evade for some period of time and be careful. Using the trafficability of the Shermans across the soggy ground, he would concentrate them along ravines and gullies. The heavy enemy tanks would not risk traversing these areas. And he would employ the submachine gunners for close-in security and at the same time send them out on reconnaissance.

The plan was implemented. The Emchas quickly dropped down off the hill and in pairs dispersed north of Tynovka in a long gully, where there were also some spurs and smaller ditches.

Six Tigers and up to two platoons of infantry in two armored transporters, with some of them sitting atop their vehicles, approached Tynovka. The German vehicles halted about six hundred meters short of the village, refusing to risk entry into the village. It appeared that they feared the presence of antitank guns. The desantniki warily observed them, prepared at any moment to block the path of the enemy infantry by fire should they dismount for a counterattack or to inspect the terrain. In the event that battle was engaged, three Shermans maneuvering from behind the hill would support the desantniki with main gun and machine-gun fire.

The enemy Tigers and infantry did not have the stomach for combat. The heavy beasts turned their long barrels on Tynovka and its northern approaches and fired two high-explosive rounds. It was more as a warning. Then they unhurriedly crawled off down the road toward the east. The damp chernozem cornfields were not for them. They would become bogged down in an instant. It was a known fact that their ground pressure was 1.5 times greater than that of the Emcha. They would have been unable to maneuver.

发表主题： 426
发表回复： 422
网站暂行积分： 1940

【人类幸存者】

特别提示：本帖子在 2018-9-15 15:25:12 由用户 白瑞德 编辑过

“Hunting with Borzois”

I do not know who first used hunting terms to describe the means developed by Emchisti for combating heavy German tanks. It was not for a lark that we had to resort to this tactic in the Korsun-Shevchenkovskiy operation (January-February 1944).

The tanks of the two sides were far from equal in firepower. The Tiger and Panther were equipped with a long-barreled 88-mm cannon. The Shermans also had a long gun, but of lesser caliber— 76.2 mm. The 85- to 100-mm frontal and turret armor of the enemy tanks made them practically invulnerable to the Emcha's projectiles at those points. But they did burn and could be immobilized in place by our precision shooting.

The Korsun-Shevchenkovskiy operation of two Ukrainian Fronts began on 26 January 1944. The recently created 6th Tank Army, to which the 5th Mechanized Corps belonged, was attacking in the southeastward direction toward Zvenigorodka from the area north of Tynovka. The 5th Guards Tank Army of the adjacent First Ukrainian Front was attacking from the opposite direction to converge with it. In coordination with infantry formations, these tank armies were to encircle significant enemy forces in the Korsun-Shevchenkovskiy bulge.

Beginning on the morning of 27 January, the 233d Tank Brigade—the backbone of the corps' forward detachment—received the mission not to become engaged in protracted battles for isolated enemy strongpoints but to penetrate into Zvenigorodka, where it was to close the ring of encirclement.

At midday, the brigade's 1st Tank Battalion, with tankodesant-niki aboard, reached the outskirts of a large and important, in the operational-tactical sense, inhabited area—Lysyanka [135 kilometers south of Kiev]. The enemy, realizing the key significance of this strongpoint, had concentrated up to a battalion of infantry, reinforced by five Tiger tanks, to hold it.

Lysyanka—a small regional town—stretched out in a deep hollow. Its houses could be seen only from a close vantage point. The Germans had dug in on the heights that framed this inhabited locale. They were covering the road and heights adjoining it with dense interlocking fires from all weapons. The defenders paid almost no attention to the gullies and ravines. They believed that their bottoms and side slopes, deteriorated from the bad weather, were unsuitable for deploying tanks.

We had to seize Lysyanka as rapidly as possible. The most important targets in its defenses were the tanks. They had to be knocked out in the first assault. It would then be much easier to deal with the infantry. The accomplishment of this task was further complicated by the worsening weather —the rain was growing heavier.

Captain Nikolay Maslyukov, the battalion commander, made the following decision: two tank platoons were to attack the enemy along the highway (demonstration group), and the platoon of Junior Lieutenant Mikhail Prikhod'ko, moving along the side of one of the broad gullies, was to reach the flank of the Tigers and attack them with armor-piercing rounds on their hulls. This concept followed the model of "hunting with Borzois": the dogs tantalize the wolf from the front, while several hounds come at him from the flanks to take him down.

Our tanks maintained radio silence to achieve surprise in this unusual attack. Only the radios of the battalion commander and the two platoons attacking along the road were left on. Nikolay Maslyukov quietly orchestrated the actions of the demonstration and flanking groups. The successful accomplishment of the battalion's mission depended on their skillful efforts.

Attentively studying the surrounding terrain, Prikhod'ko noticed nothing except dripping wet shrubbery and the occasional modest tree. The Emchas of his platoon crept forward on idling motors, avoiding movement along the same track. There was the possibility of getting bogged down in the soggy chernozem. As before, visibility was poor. A head wind hurled large raindrops into their faces and carried the noise of their laboring engines from their sterns into the endless steppe. This encouraged the tankers because it provided additional security for their actions. It would have been worse for the wind to be blowing toward the enemy. "Today, the weather is our friend," the platoon commander said encouragingly to his crew.

Hundreds of meters of a difficult path lay behind. Prikhod'ko understood that his tanks could encounter the enemy at any moment, and he was not wrong. Up ahead, Mikhail noticed a mound —a small ground sheet hung suspended above the ground. It was motionless. Out from under the tarpaulin crawled a German soldier, who stared at the lead tank, clearly not knowing if it was his or ours. Without hesitation, the driver-mechanic veered his Sherman toward the enemy position and ground the soldier and his covered machine gun into the earth. The enemy's security outpost had been destroyed without a sound. This did not happen often. "The defender's main forces are somewhere nearby," the platoon commander concluded to himself. A sheet of heavy rain hid the horizon from view. The enemy position was somewhere up ahead—but it could not be discerned.

Prikhod'ko reported his engagement with the enemy outpost to the battalion commander and received the order to stop. The demonstration group along the road began its spirited "teasing" attack, trying to attract the defenders' attention completely to itself. By doing this, it simplified for Prikhod'ko's crews the accomplishment of their mission.

The Shermans of the flanking group froze in place, their motors quietly idling. The commands of the officers of the tanks attacking frontally sounded crisply in the headphones. Frequent machine-gun bursts and the noise of motors were reported. The main part of the concept of "hunting with Borzois" had been accomplished successfully.

At this time, somewhere in the heights a strong gust of wind dispersed the heavy curtain of clouds, and a broad patch of sky shone through. The rain halted. Would it hold off long? A moment! A fortuitous moment! Prikhod'ko fixed his glance at the unfolding view. Some seventy meters ahead loomed two immense black-crossed tanks. Their main guns patrolled the road, prepared at any moment to greet our tanks attacking from the front with deadly fire.

Two Shermans of Prikhod'ko's platoon, moving in echelon, had stopped at the same time. This enabled them to open fire quickly, without interfering with each other. Their main guns had long ago been loaded with armor-piercing rounds. "The right Tiger is yours, the left one is mine. Fire!" commanded Mikhail.

Main gun fires ripped through the damp, cold air. The engine compartment of the right beast was enveloped in flames. The left Tiger shook from the strike of the solid shot but did not catch fire. Prikhod'ko shouted to the gunner, "Finish him off!" The second armor-piercing round did its work—the clumsy target belched black smoke. The German tankers began to jump out of their vehicle. Accurate machine-gun fires found their mark.

The Emchas attacked forcefully along the road, conducting intensive main gun and machine-gun fires. Prikhod'ko's platoon also did not spare their ammunition. Having been attacked from two sides, the enemy began to withdraw under fire to the south. Minutes later, the lead tanks of Maslyukov's battalion, in coordination with their desantniki, burst upon the enemy positions. Lysyanka stretched out below.

The Emchisti participating in the defeat of enemy attempts to break out of the Korsun-Shevchenkovskiy ring employed a different method of combat with the enemy's heavy tanks. Two Shermans were designated in each platoon for each single attacking Tiger. One tank fired armor-piercing shells at one or the other track, the other tank awaited the moment when the undamaged track had driven the German tank into a 90-degree turn, exposing its entire flank. Then it delivered a solid shot into the fuel cell. As a rule, attacking enemy tanks were permitted to close to four hundred to five hundred meters. It was difficult to break a track at greater ranges.

发表主题： 426
发表回复： 422
网站暂行积分： 1940

【人类幸存者】

A "Psychological" Attack

Each officer at the front had his own moment in the sun, a specific day (or days) and a defined place. For Captain Niko-lay Maslyukov, this was Lysyanka. This, indeed, was the peak of his command talent. Without a doubt, new aspects of the gifted battalion commander clearly would shine forth in other battles. But the time of his death was near. Maslyukov perished at 1300 on 28 January 1944 in Zvenigorodka. We were doggedly fighting our way there.

The wildly fluctuating weather continued. The brief pause was sufficient only for the capture of the important heights on the approaches to Lysyanka. Even more heavy rain fell later and, with the coming of dawn, abundant wet snow. Like it or not, this enemy strongpoint had to be taken at night.

Nikolay Maslyukov assembled the company and tank commanders and explained the developing situation. At this time the crews replenished their Emchas' ammunition supply. A stubborn fight in a built-up area lay ahead, at night. Nikolay Nikolayevich listened to the opinions of his company commanders and several platoon commanders. All arrived at the same conclusion: attack Lysyanka without delay, bringing all the firepower of their Shermans to bear on the enemy, and, as before, not sparing main gun rounds or machine-gun bullets.

The captain agreed with his subordinates' opinion. He himself added: "We will augment the strength of our fire attack by turning on our lights and blowing our sirens at full power. We will conduct a 'psychological' attack!"

The Emchas had modest headlights, with a sufficiently powerful beam. And a wailing signaling device—a siren. When it was turned on, even the tankers, who knew its voice, experienced tingling in their spines. How would it affect someone who was hearing it for the first time? And at full power? Could he keep his nerve?

All was prepared for the tanks' rush into the northwest outskirts of Lysyanka. Then came Captain Maslyukov's terse command: "Turn on lights and sirens! Forward!"

Though years have passed, the picture of this unusual attack is clear in my mind in all its detail. The piercing light of the headlamps pulled the road out of the darkness, along with the adjacent fields, houses, and trees. It blinded the enemy infantry and artillery gun crew. The powerful howl of the sirens ripped into the night. It assaulted the eardrums and placed a heavy load on the brain. The enemy fire, initially somewhat dense, began to weaken. The "psychological" attack bore fruit. "Any means is good in battle: blind the enemy, destroy him with the tank!" From the first moment of the attack, the Sherman crews conducted intense main gun and machine-gun fires. When the enemy's resistance had noticeably weakened, Maslyukov sternly ordered: "Conserve ammunition! Use your tracks!"

Each platoon and tank commander, emerging partially from his hatch, could easily see the enemy in the illuminated surroundings. Using their intercom systems, they gave commands to the driver-mechanic, directing their Emchas toward observed targets. Assault troops carrying submachine guns ran nearby, shielding "their" Sherman from panzerfaust gunners. The armor plate of antitank guns cracked. The multiton mass of the "American" easily overran the defenders' mortars and machine guns. The soft, wet earth received the debris into its cold embrace without resistance.

Maslyukov's battalion and the submachine gunners of the brigade commander's reserve captured Lysyanka without losses. Some twenty kilometers remained to the city of Zvenigorodka.

发表主题： 426
发表回复： 422
网站暂行积分： 1940

【人类幸存者】

特别提示：本帖子在 2018-9-15 15:26:05 由用户 白瑞德 编辑过

Friendly Fire

After the conclusion of the Korsun-Shevchenkovskiy operation, the forces of the Second Ukrainian Front, commanded by Marshal of the Soviet Union I. S. Konev, were opposed by the 8th Army of Army Group South. The decision was made to conduct the Umansk-Botoshansk operation (5 March-17 April 1944), to iiberate the southwestern oblasts of Ukraine. This operation was part of the strategic offensive of Soviet forces in the right-bank Ukraine in 1943-44.

The front commander's concept envisaged the defeat of the 8th Army, the breaking up of Army Group South, and the blocking of the path of retreat of the 1st Panzer Army in the southern axis, cooperating with the First Ukrainian Front for its defeat. The main blow was struck from the line Vinograd-Zvenigorodka-Shpola[维诺格勒-兹韦尼哥罗德卡-什波拉] toward Uman[乌曼] by forces of the 27th, 52d, and 4th Guards Armies, 2d, 5th, and 6th Tank Armies (415 tanks and 147 self-propelled guns altogether), the 5th Guards Cavalry Corps, and also a portion of the forces of the 40th and 53d Armies. The 7th and 5th Guards Armies launched a supporting attack from the area of Kirovograd[基洛沃格勒] in the direction of Novoukrainka[新乌克兰卡]. These ground actions were supported by the 5th Air Army.

The offensive was begun on 5 March and developed successfully. On the first day. the 2d and 5th Guards Tank Armies were introduced into the fight to strengthen the attack on the main axis. On the third day of the operation, they forced the Gornyy Tikich River[戈尔内季基奇河] from the march, broke through the last defensive line occupied by the enemy on the path to the Southern Bug River, and began pursuing him. The 6th Tank Army was moving right behind them. Having captured Uman on 10 March, the forward detachments of the armies reached the Southern Bug. The 6th Tank Army was committed to support the high tempo of the offensive. Crossing the Southern Bug River, the tank armies surged toward the Dniester.

Conditions for the actions of the troops were exceptionally difficult. The rivers were running full and the roads and fields were a sea of mud. Only tracked vehicles could move, and the wheeled vehicles remained in assembly areas. In units of the 5th Mechanized Corps, Sherman tanks were used almost like draft animals. Fuel cells were mounted on their armor, along with boxes of shells and ammunition, and desantniki.

During his retreat in the areas of Uman and Khristinovka[赫里斯季诺夫卡], the enemy had abandoned an enormous quantity of combat equipment and vehicles. We siphoned diesel fuel from these vehicles and topped off our tanks, conserving our own supplies.

Combat units were confined, for the most part, to the roads. Beyond the Dniester River, Sherman tanks began to experience a shortage of main gun rounds. Aviation came to our assistance, dropping ammunition by parachute.

On 17 March, forward units of the right wing of the Second Ukrainian Front captured a bridgehead on the right bank of the Dniester in an area south of the city of Mogilev-Podol'skiy.[莫吉廖夫-波多利斯基] Favorable conditions had been created for the subsequent offensive into the depth of the enemy's defenses.

Pursuing the enemy, the 27th and 52d Armies along with formations of the 2d and 6th Tank Armies arrived at the Soviet-Romanian border along an eighty-five-kilometer front on 26 March. On the night of 28 March, forces of the Second Ukrainian Front forced the Prut River[普鲁特河] from the march and initiated combat operations on the territory of Romania.

As a result of the Umansk-Botoshansk[乌曼—博托沙尼战役] operation, the 8th Army and a portion of the 1st Panzer Army were defeated, and the front of Army Group South was broken. Ten enemy divisions had lost 50 to 75 percent of their personnel and almost all their heavy armaments. In the course of the operation, forces of the front had advanced some 200 to 250 kilometers, liberated a significant portion of the right-bank Ukraine and Modavia, and reached the northeast region of Romania.

Spring 1944. The Umansk-Botoshansk offensive operation was conducted in the most difficult conditions of the spring thaw. The thickness of the sticky layer of chernozem reached almost forty to fifty centimeters [fifteen to eighteen inches] on all the roads. After a nineteen-day offensive, units of the 5 th Mechanized Corps seized the important crossroads at Vapnyarka[瓦普尼亚尔卡] [250 kilometers southwest of Kiev] on 15 March. This opened the way for a strong push to the south, toward the Dniester River. Only tanks could take full advantage of this opportunity. An assault group of four to five submachine gunners headed by a sergeant, and sometimes an officer, was placed on the Shermans and self-propelled guns in all the corps' brigades. Each combat vehicle also carried two or three crates of ammunition and one or two diesel fuel drums. This not insignificant load sharply reduced the maneuverability of the tanks and self-propelled guns. In the weather situation that had developed, there was no alternative. The wheeled supply columns would remain in the Vapnyarka area until the roads dried out.

Seventeen Shermans of the 45th Mechanized Brigade, commanded by Major Troshin, received the order to march quietly to the city of Mogilev-Podol'skiy [on the Dniester River, three hundred kilometers southwest of Kiev] and cut the enemy's path of retreat across the Dniester River.

The tanks of Lieutenant Evgeniy Shapkin and Junior Lieutenant Yuriy Orekhov, acting as flank guard, were approaching the town through a long ravine with gently sloping sides. It was unbelievably difficult to move in the plowed-up sticky mud. Shapkin's tank became stuck at one of the gully's twists. The tankodesantniki immediately dismounted and fanned out to set up covering positions for the tank on both sides of the ravine.

Orekhov's tank approached Shapkin's stuck Sherman, and the assistant driver-mechanic quickly hooked his tow cables onto the mired tank. Yuriy, standing in front of his Emcha, began to give the hand signals to the driver-mechanic. The recovery was under way. Suddenly, the submachine gunners on the left crest of the ravine cried out: "Germans!" At the same time, they commenced automatic weapons fire, withdrawing toward their tanks.

The crews quickly occupied their combat stations. They managed to cram the hurrying desantniki into their turrets also. Soon the Germans (not less than 150 soldiers and officers) approached close enough to the "connected" tanks to throw grenades. It was already too late to return fire. Seconds later, the Germans were on top of the Shermans like glaze. They covered the vision blocks with mud and smeared chernozem on the telescope openings in the turret, totally blinding the crew. Pounding on the hatches, they tried to open them with rifle bayonets. All the while, they were shouting: "Rus, kaput! Give up!"

The right flank security group, coming under fire, began to withdraw toward the highway. Two soldiers died and three were wounded in the lopsided encounter with the enemy. With enormous difficulty, they managed to reach the road. Fortunately, here they spotted two approaching Katyusha trucks.1 Their commander, Guards Junior Lieutenant Ivan Krivtsov, listening to the submachine gunners' worried account, did not interrupt them. He made a murderous decision: to launch a direct-fire salvo at the German troops swarming the tanks. There was nothing else he could do. The enemy had overwhelming superiority. Any delay would surely result in the death of the tankers. The range to the target was minimal. The launch vehicles quickly planted their front wheels in the ditch. In this position they could quickly fire on the captured Shermans.2 Several crucial minutes passed from the moment of the Katyushas' arrival until they fired their salvo. Brilliant trails of fire streaked toward the ravine with shrieks and hissing. In an instant, blinding flames danced up around the Emchas. The heartrending cries of the enemy infantry echoed in the gully. Did our own men survive the firestorm?

The smoke gradually drifted away. At first glance, the tanks stood undamaged. Their hulls and turrets were covered with thick soot. The hapless Germans were running in various directions. But they did not run far. The tankers opened fire on the fleeing enemy with a storm of machine-gun fire. At this time, the 233d Tank Brigade matériel support units arrived. Guards Junior Lieutenant Krivtsov loudly commanded: "Kill the Fritzes!"3

With shouts of "Ura-a-a!" support soldiers rushed into the attack. Several minutes later, the engagement subsided. Forty still-dazed prisoners glanced timidly in all directions. The remnants of the enemy units defeated east of the Dniester did not manage to break through to the west bank of this water obstacle.

Emchisti began to appear at open hatches. Our soldiers hurried over to them. "How do you feel, comrades, after such a fire 'baptism'?" they asked. Shapkin spread his hands, then pointed at his ears and, after a moment of silence, said, "One hundred bells are ringing in my head. I do not recommend such a working over to any of you. Even if you are protected by the armor of a tank."

Ivan Krivtsov walked over. He apologized for the fire strike on our own troops. "In this most dangerous situation that had developed, I had no other choice." Evgeniy Shapkin embraced and exchanged kisses with the artillery officer. "Thank you, friend, for the help! Not so much because your effort was so extraordinary, but because you had the courage to do it. Anything can happen in war. Sometimes the situation forces one to fire on one's own troops in order to defeat the enemy!"

Everyone was smiling.

Having repaired the damaged track and pulled down their charred tarpaulins, the Emchisti departed for Mogilev-Podol'skiy.

发表主题： 426
发表回复： 422
网站暂行积分： 1940

【人类幸存者】

特别提示：本帖子在 2018-9-15 15:26:52 由用户 白瑞德 编辑过

The Darkness and Wind Are Our Friends

The city of Bel'tsy [105 kilometers northwest of Kishinev in Moldova] was just a stone's throw away. Major Fedor Sazonov, commander of the 233d Tank Brigade, directed the units that were surging ahead hurriedly to reach the eastern quarter of this important operational objective. In day-to-day activities, and the more so on the battlefield, "an order will not always be detailed."

During the afternoon of 23 March 1944, our attack was held up almost four kilometers from Bel'tsy. A small hill some eight hundred meters to the left of the road turned out to be a particularly strong nut to crack. By holding this hill, the enemy covered the approaches to the city. Several antitank guns and a mortar battery in this strongpoint had the road in their sights. Artillery deployed in positions somewhere behind the hill added their dense fire, as well.

The hill could not be bypassed on the right. A plowed field, soaked by the rains, stretched to the horizon. There remained only to await nightfall and then attack this key enemy point of resistance under cover of darkness. We needed infantry, the more the better. The brigade had only one and one-half companies of tankodesantniki. We had to he satisfied with that small number.

The companies of Senior Lieutenant Ivan Yakushkin and Senior Lieutenant Aleksandr Kuchma from the 1st Battalion were designated to support the infantry in this attack. The tankers topped off their supply of high-explosive main gun rounds, receiving many from other brigade units. There was no time to consider bringing up a resupply of ammunition from the rear. Our aviation delivered a fresh supply by parachute a day later.

The brigade commander made the following decision. With the onset of dusk, move the tanks quietly (using only one motor) to the start positions in a dried riverbed, some two hundred meters from the forward edge of the enemy defenses. From this position, upon a common signal, the force was to rain fire from all tank weapons on the hill, and then the desantniki, supported by the companies of Yakushkin and Kuchma, were to attack and capture the objective.

Having listened to the brigade commander's plan, Ivan Yakushkin requested permission for his company to deviate from it slightly. The essence of his request was as follows: one platoon would remain to attack from the front along with the tanks of Aleksandr Kuchma. He—Yakushkin—using one motor at low revolutions per minute, would lead the remaining two platoons along a gully reconnoitered during daylight into the rear of the enemy position. He would have ten desantniki riding on his tanks for reconnaissance and security. A strong, gusty wind, blowing away from the enemy, would substantially aid in accomplishing the planned flanking maneuver. This was "small change," which we would not once consider in subsequent battles. But in this case, Kuchma's tanks and the remaining platoon of Ivan Ignat'ev's company had to make as many sorties as possible to the forward edge. They had to attract the maximum possible attention of the defending enemy to themselves. Upon a green star cluster signal, indicating that the flanking tanks had reached their assault line in the enemy's rear, a simultaneous attack would be launched from the front and rear.

The brigade commander attentively listened to Yakushkin's suggestion. He asked several pointed questions: "Is the gully sufficiently large to support your concealed maneuver? In the event the flanking group is detected, what will it do?"

Ivan Yakushkin reported the following to Major Sazonov: the northern slopes of the gully along which the tanks would maneuver offered good trafficability. Not more than two Emchas would move along the same track. Upon the enemy's detection of our maneuver, he would immediately fire a green rocket and quickly begin the attack—our group from the flank or rear, depending on the depth of its penetration into the enemy's zone—and the main forces under the command of Kuchma from the front.

The brigade commander was not offended, although at first glance he had reason to be. His plan had been substantially altered. "The matter at hand is more important than the ego" was a golden rule of our bitter war experiences. A sensible thought at the front line is very often respected. The more so that in this case because it came from an experienced officer, Ivan Yaku-shkin, who had been in the active army since the first day of the Great Patriotic War. Sazonov had himself been fighting Germans for about two years.

The brigade commander approved the plan of action suggested by Yakushkin and immediately gave the necessary instructions.

The crews set about in preparation for the night attack. In Yakushkin's company, they carefully inspected the tie-downs on the hulls of their Emchas: pioneer tools,1 tow cables (nothing should be a source of giveaway noise). In combat, serious losses could result from overlooked details. By evening, the wind had increased in velocity; at times, rain drizzled down. The tankers were happy with such weather, the worse the better!

Darkness covered the earth, steaming from the day's warmth. It was time to move. Kuchma's subordinates, Yakushkin's attached platoon, and the desantniki began carefully to move forward to their start position for the frontal attack on the hill. Fifteen minutes later, Yakushkin's flanking group departed. It withdrew one kilometer into their own rear, then turned to the northwest and quickly took up their selected movement route. The Shermans quietly idled along on one motor (375 horsepower), the rubber-cushioned tracks laying down almost noiselessly in the soft chernozem. Four submachine gunners went 150 to 200 meters ahead, acting in the role of a reconnaissance patrol. The tank commanders, having dismounted, led their Shermans along, trying to avoid having more than two tanks follow the same track.

Three kilometers of dirt path lay behind them. Ivan Ignat'evich sat on the turret of the lead tank. Straining his eyes, he stared into the darkness. He would not miss the signal from the patrol indicating detection of the enemy. The wind drove large raindrops into his face. Yakushkin thoughtfully welcomed its timely discomfort.

All the crews spotted two blue flashes of a pocket flashlight ("the enemy is nearby"). They immediately cut their motors, as had been agreed to earlier. Waiting a little bit ahead of Yakushkin, Sergeant Aleksandr Pronin, the commander of the reconnaissance patrol, appeared out of the darkness. He reported his findings: the desantniki had reached several enemy dugouts. They had heard German speech. They were continuing to listen and observe.

Having gathered his officers, Ivan Yakushkin declared: "This completes the silent portion of our move. Whether there are many or few enemy, we will attack! A sudden strike is the guarantor of success! The enemy does not expect us. Too bad for him! Do not fire—use your tracks!"

Several minutes later, all was in readiness for the final rush. The company commander only regretted that he had not managed to bypass the hill a bit deeper. He had to attack the enemy position not from the rear, as he had intended, but from the flank.

The desantniki acting as scouts returned to their tanks. Yakushkin mounted them on the armor of his own Emcha. According to analysis of the data collected on the positions they had observed, there were up to two infantry squads reinforced by machine guns. This probably was the combat outpost.

The Shermans' motors worked harmoniously at full power. At the exact same second, an illumination rocket, hissing angrily, arched into the sky. After the battle, Ivan Ignat'evich said, "One could only dream of such a gift from the enemy!" In their fear, the Fritzes lit up themselves and us. The trajectory of the rocket they fired was almost vertical.

From this moment began the headlong energetic actions of the flanking group. Yakushkin reported his discovery of the enemy and the commencement of his attack to the brigade commander.

Seven tanks executed a right turn almost simultaneously and surged forward in a combat line into the enemy positions. Reinforcing materials cracked and splintered, and enemy infantry thrown into disarray cried out. Not dismounting, our tanko-desantniki sprayed them with submachine-gun bursts. Several illumination rockets were fired from the hill's crest toward Yaku-shkin's group. Mortars fired, but their shells landed and exploded far behind the attacking Shermans. It is not so simple to conduct mortar fire in night conditions. Every second, the sky was lit up with the light shafts of the "candles." Beyond the hill blinked the muzzle flashes of an artillery salvo, and three flares hung over the company's formation.

Ivan Yakushkin ordered his tank commander, Junior Lieutenant Ivan Filin, to fire a green rocket. Two kilometers to the right, the main guns of Aleksandr Kuchma's company immediately opened fire. The frontal attack against the hill had begun.

A second volley of enemy mortar rounds fired at the flanking tanks was more accurate. Three desantniki were wounded. Yakushkin's group could not hold their guns silent any longer. "Fire! Fire!" the company commander ordered. The geysers of bursting high-explosive shells fired from the east and south covered the slopes of the hill. The infantry and tanks were conducting a simultaneous assault on the Germans' defenses from two sides. The enemy's predicament was unpleasant, to say the least.

The pulse of a night fight can be easily sensed according to the strength of the fires of the opposing sides along particular sectors of the engagement line. It was now sufficiently high on the axis of Kuchma's attacking company. It was weaker against Yakushkin's company. But the enemy artillery continued to illuminate their combat formation and covered the left flank of the Shermans attacking from the south with two artillery strikes. The suspension was damaged on two tanks in Junior Lieutenant Konstantin Stepanov's platoon. Yakushkin ordered these immobile tanks to fire into the German artillery positions, to force the enemy to weaken, if not cease, his firing against the flanking group.

The remaining tanks of Yakushkin's group, conducting intensive main gun fire on the move, continued their attack. Their engines roared intensely as the Emchas moved along the un-plowed soil. Behind them remained the deep trails of tracks. The desantniki, having dismounted, gathered into groups in the wake of the tanks, where they were covered from enemy rifle and machine-gun fires. Kuchma reported by radio to the brigade commander that his unit had seized the eastern slopes of the hill. The enemy was holding onto the crest with a small force. Yakushkin rejoiced at these words. He ordered his tank to halt. With three main gun salvos from the Emchas' position, the defense of the southwestern slopes of the hill collapsed. The smoke of the explosions had not yet dissipated when the Shermans lurched forward and ground all that remained in the Germans' positions under their tracks.

Not stopping, the tanks turned to the left and hurried toward the enemy artillery positions. Ivan Ignat'evich ordered Stepanov's crews to cease firing into the area he had earlier designated to prevent the attacking tanks from coming under their own fire.

The eastern sky showed red. Quiet descended on the hill. The enemy had lost about one hundred soldiers and officers, and twenty were captured; eight mortars, three antitank guns, five light and two heavy machine guns were destroyed; and four 75-mm field guns were crushed. Our losses were three Shermans destroyed. We could hardly have achieved these results with a daylight attack. "Night is our sister, ready to conceal and help us!"

The road to Bel'tsy was open!

The effectiveness of the method "attack the enemy from two sides and inflict rapidly discernible losses on him!" once again received a good practical confirmation. Company commanders Kuchma and Yakushkin were decorated with Orders of the Red Banner by order of the tank army commander, General A. G. Kravchenko.

发表主题： 426
发表回复： 422
网站暂行积分： 1940

【人类幸存者】

特别提示：本帖子在 2018-9-15 15:28:05 由用户 白瑞德 编辑过

The Emcha Plows

By 28 March 1944, the tanks of the 5th Mechanized Corps, with assault troops on board, had fought their way across nearly three hundred kilometers of territory and had reached the Prut River in the sector of Skulen' and Ungeny [twenty kilometers east of Jassy, Romania]. The Umansk-Botoshansk offensive operation concluded on this axis.

An order arrived in the 1st Battalion from the headquarters of the 233d Tank Brigade: send an officer on a tank back along the route of march of our offensive. His mission was to collect all repaired combat vehicles (twelve vehicles had been left behind) and direct them to Skulen'. The dispatch of such a guide was necessary because the end point of our brigade's actions had changed during the course of the offensive. Matériel support units delayed by muddy roads and crews of broken-down or damaged Shermans did not know of the change. They had to be reoriented.

Captain Aleksandr Kogan, the battalion commander, ordered me to carry out this unusual mission. Our preparations were hasty. We took aboard two containers of diesel fuel and several days' dry rations. Then we departed.

Our journey lasted two weeks. We marveled at what we saw in a land where fierce battles had just concluded: burned-out homes and entire forests reduced to ashes. It was time for planting spring wheat. But where would the seed come from? The Germans had carried everything out with them. Kitchen gardens were overrun with tall weeds. What could be used to plow them? The collective farms had neither horses nor tractors. A cow, if it had survived, could be used to pull a plow. But this was an extreme measure for a peasant. In such a case, they always said, "Harness the family's wet nurse to the plow. Have you lost your mind, friend!"

Three years of German occupation. The peasantry had even begun to forget how a cow moos. Single women and weak old men remained in the villages. All the concerns of life were on their shoulders: feeding the children, plowing the land, gathering the harvest. These were the consequences of the Germans' "new order."

Having carried out our mission, I was returning to the brigade's area with two Shermans. The sun was setting in the west. In front of us was the village of Chernovtsy. I decided to lager here for the night and hit the road again early in the morning, but the circumstances introduced a substantial adjustment to my plan. They forced us to forget about rest.

Upon approaching the first huts in Chernovtsy, the tankers were stunned by what they saw: five women, some with a frayed rope thrown over their shoulders, one holding old reins, struggling to drag a single-bladed plow. A sixth woman steered the plow, walking along the furrow. I got mad enough to boil water. I understood. These peasants were not doing this for the pleasure of it. Their predicament forced them to become "boatmen" on their own land (we knew about the Volga boatmen from our history).

I commanded the column to halt and jumped down onto the road from the lead tank. I walked quickly over to the "plowmen." A plan for subsequent actions formed immediately in my mind. The women, their faces streaked with sweat, stopped and began to look in my direction. They responded to my greeting with a traditional Ukrainian reply, "Be healthy!"

Barely catching my breath, I blurted out, "Don't wear yourself out! We will cultivate all your gardens! Where is the kolkhoz [collective farm] representative?" A young peasant wife, one of the "shaft horses," responded, "Old women, rest for a moment. I will come right back." She led me to a hut on the opposite side of the road. "Hanna Ivanovna is in charge of our kolkhoz. She is at home, sick." I called the tank commanders over and explained my unusual decision to them.

We would plow the gardens with the Shermans. Hanna Ivanovna received our suggestion with enormous relief and joy. The main problem was to find a plow. It turned out that there were only two suitable for the task. "I have to ask around. I think I can find several," said the kolkhoz representative. "You cannot imagine the tremendous help you are giving to our village, with so many womenfolk here. We have no men—the Germans drove some off, and some went to the front."

We had another, not less important, concern. How would we harness the plows to the tanks? The kolkhoz representative looked over at my guide. "Oksana knows a little bit about blacksmithing." "My father taught me a little bit," the farrier's daughter bashfully related. "Unfortunately, the forge has not been fired up in a long time."

Hanna Ivanovna turned to me with a request. "Please, help start the fire in the forge. Oksana will show you how to do it. She has the skilled hands of a man," the kolkhoz representative proudly concluded.

Our conversation lasted almost an hour. The news about the help promised by the tankers had carried through the village with lightning speed. The villagers came running and crowded around. An additional two plows appeared. We set off to assemble some kind of harness.

The blacksmith shop became the center of the village's life for the evening and almost the entire night. All the remaining Emchisti left their vehicles to help in the work: they burned an enormous bush to make charcoal for the forge; they dragged in the tank tow cables to be modified for the plows. Several young women helped. And soon the rhythmic pounding of the blacksmith's hammer was heard. Forging began. Oksana held a small, long-handled hammer in her hand and adroitly pointed with it where the "smithy"—Senior Sergeant Gennadiy Kapranov—was to strike.

The tankers, admiring the coordinated work of their comrade and the village girl, joked, "A soldier is always a soldier—in any endeavor, he is a go-getter!" "Oksana is a blacksmith —is she any less amazing?" replied the villagers with pride.

The heated red hot strip of metal was transformed before our eyes into simple parts and components of the future harnesses. Although the "smithies" were replaced, Oksana stood as before near the anvil. The crude harnesses were ready by dawn. The village women were not sleeping in their homes either. From their meager supplies they cooked, roasted, and baked, preparing the soldiers' breakfast. Though they were not rich, they gave from their hearts.

After three hours of heavy sleep, the entire "tank field brigade" was on its feet. The indefatigable Oksana led the Emchisti to a half-destroyed school building. There they found a table set for the breakfast meal. They ate fried eggs with lard, pancakes with cracklings, and washed it all down with compote [stewed fruit]. Having thanked the cooks for the tasty meal, the tankers acknowledged with laughter, "Now we are ready to take the bull by the horns, and plow more than the gardens!"

The exhaust noise of tank engines echoed over Chernovtsy. One Sherman behind the houses on the right side of the road, the other on the left, attacked the garden plots. The driver-mechanics steered their vehicles with great care. Would the makeshift harnesses pull the load? It took some time for the "farmers" to master the difficult task of handling their plows. They had to remain calm. Just a bit of hesitation, and the plowshare was gliding along the surface of the soil, scraping away only the grass. With each meter of forward progress, the driver-mechanics handled their vehicles more confidently, and the steps of those following the plows became more firm.

This unusual picture of plowing the gardens with tanks caught the attention of the villagers. Small boys, old people with skin white as the moon, stooping old women, and several young people appeared everywhere. They spilled out into the fields and quietly observed the scene.

Midday. The last furrow was laid down. The tank engines died. Quiet ruled over Chernovtsy once again. Only around the schoolhouse could be heard the sounds of happy women's voices. Preparations were under way there for a large holiday feast, the likes of which hadn't been seen in this war-torn village for more than three years.

I ordered the tankers to prepare to move out. We put the last of the diesel fuel in the Shermans and checked our tracks.

Limping heavily (she had twisted her ankle a week before), Hanna Ivanovna approached me. She embraced me firmly and we exchanged kisses. "You can't imagine what joy you have given us! You have taken a great burden from the shoulders of my villagers; in a single day they have been freed from their misfortune. Thank you so very, very much, dear soldiers of ours!" She shook hands with and kissed each tanker and invited all of us and the villagers to come to the table. The crews closed the hatches on their Emchas and headed for the school.

We were party to many and various meals on our long wartime journey. But this was one of the most memorable, one that has stayed with me all these years. It was not a particular dish, not the strength or quantity of the prepared food. It was the atmosphere of the meal and especially the tears.

I had been in the active army for more than a year. In the Smolensk area, in Byelorussia, I had seen boundless grief. Totally burned-out cities and villages. As they counted up after the war, every fourth inhabitant of Byelorussian territory had perished. A river of human tears flowed there.

But in Chernovtsy, a rural Ukrainian village, for the first time during the war we witnessed the bright, happy tears of old peasants, thanking us for our "good work." Tears of joy. We cannot possibly forget their deep (all the way to the ground) bows.

The Shermans departed to the west. Young and old gathered at the village outskirts. They accompanied the unexpected plowmen to the main road leading to the front. They discreetly made the sign of the cross. Gennadiy Kapranov and several other young men promised to return to this village after the war's end. They were attracted to the Ukrainian pony tails. But their secret fantasies were never realized. They were buried in single and common graves in the cities, villages, and fields of Romania, Hungary, Czechoslovakia, and Austria. May they rest in peace!

发表主题： 426
发表回复： 422
网站暂行积分： 1940

【人类幸存者】

Retribution

In the last days of March 1944, the motorized infantry and tank units of the 5 th Mechanized Corps forced the Prut River and captured a bridgehead on its right [western] bank. The front line had stabilized. We, the tankers of the 233d Brigade, along with the infantry, had to hold our positions for nearly two weeks. During this time, we did not receive fresh replacements.

At the moment of its arrival at the Soviet-Romanian border, the brigade had a significant shortage of Sherman tanks. It received the mission to defend a sector on the right side of the highway leading into Tassy. Our units were opposed by up to a battalion of enemy infantry, reinforced by several Tiger tanks. Both sides positioned their armored combat vehicles almost at the forward edge, significantly strengthening the antitank defense of the infantry. Both we and the Germans prepared our positions well. Only the tops of the turrets were visible.

With the appearance of heavy German tanks on the Soviet-German front, we were confronted with their unusual external rigging. Track blocks were hung on the front slope of the hull and along the entire turret. In the first place, this reinforced the armor defenses of the Tigers and Panthers. Second, an armor-piercing round that struck one of these fixtures was normally deflected.

The front-line trace had an influence on the nature of the activities of the opposing sides, especially in the conduct of fire. The front-line passed rigidly from north to south. For this reason, in the morning the bright spring sun blinded the enemy and in the afternoon blinded us.

A Tiger firing position was located on the eastern slope of one of the hills. From here, its crew could overlook our position almost up to the Prut River, in particular the road to the crossing site. Good observation and fire control optics of the "beast" and the long-range 88-mm cannon permitted the Germans to conduct precise fire on any target, large or small. For example, after 1300, anything that appeared on the road was quickly destroyed. "Rabid Fritz," as our soldiers christened it, did not experience any shortage of high-explosive shells.

We could not respond to the enemy with similar activities for a number of reasons. Because of the hilliness, we could see only a short distance into his defenses. We also had to conserve ammunition. Our own supply system had not yet caught up with us. How we wanted to get revenge on "Rabid Fritz." The impatience of the Emchisti, finally, was overextended when they had to go without fresh hot meals for two straight days. The cooks were driven off and had to send food forward in thermal containers.

Senior Sergeant Anatoliy Romashkin had already given much thought to the problem of how to punish the unleashed bully. After this incident, the gun commander firmly cemented his fame as a precise gunner. The circumstances once again urgently called for confirmation of the rank and recognition accorded him by his comrades. Anatoliy scratched his head for more than a day on the practical accomplishment of the planned retribution. He constantly observed the movements of the enemy crew. He determined the range to the Tiger with careful precision—650 meters.

The retribution was prepared and carried out in the following manner.

Romashkin received permission to fire two antitank rounds. He requested the infantry commander to assign him a sniper. With the sniper's assistance, Romashkin selected a firing position near his tank, from which the entire turret of the Tiger could be easily seen. Anatoliy recommended that the sniper, Junior Sergeant Yuriy Prokhorov, fire armor-piercing ammunition [such as would be used to disable a light-skinned vehicle] because it had a heavier propellant charge. "I might have to expend both main gun rounds. You should hit the target with the first shot."

Over the course of two days, from dawn to 1300, while the sun was not shining in their eyes, Anatoliy and Yuriy vigilantly tracked the beast. But no luck. The other men, not knowing the reason for the postponement of the intended payback, teased Romashkin. He remained silent. Sometimes he retorted with an unintelligible, "If I don't get the angle, I don't shoot!" The essence of the gunner's plan was to wait patiently until the Tiger's main gun was pointed off five to ten degrees. He would fire from the Sherman at the Tiger's gun tube. But all this time, it stared at us with its threatening muzzle brake. With such a small target area, the probability of destroying the "88" approached zero.

The third day of waiting began. A light morning fog was dissipating. Anatoliy put his eye to the sight. His heart leaped with joy. "Finally!" He immediately gave the prearranged signal to Yuriy. "Prepare to fire!" One second, two . . . five. The turret of the beast slowly rotated. Perhaps he could catch the target. Meanwhile, the rays of the rising sun were not striking his eyes. A main gun shot from the Emcha tore through the air. Identified by its tracer, the round, slamming against the turret mantle, had gone right and up. Another shot. This one struck home! Like a sawed log, almost half of the Tiger's gun tube flew off to the side. The cupola hatch immediately opened with a clank—the enemy tank commander raised himself out almost to the waist. Anatoliy saw in his gunsight how even the German's mouth fell open in surprise at the sight of the remaining stub of his long gun [main gun tube].

Prokhorov squeezed the trigger of his sniper rifle. The German jerked and then fell face downward on the turret roof. "Ura-a-a!" The shouts rang out over our positions. "The 'maniac' has been shot!" Romashkin humbly reported.

The wounded Tiger withdrew to the rear of the German position with the coming of darkness. From this time forward, nothing replaced it on the hill. The crews of other beasts became "quieter than water, lower than grass." The front-line road now was traveled in daylight. Sometimes, true, it was subjected to artillery fire and the occasional air strike.

发表主题： 426
发表回复： 422
网站暂行积分： 1940

【人类幸存者】

The Secret Firm

Time has inexorably moved on. We —foreign-vehicle tankers—have grown fewer and fewer in number. As in the past, we wartime comrades gather for a commemoration twice each year, on 9 May—Victory Day—and on the second Sunday in September—the Day of Armored Forces.

As is well known, the majority of the Lend-Lease combat equipment was delivered to the Soviet Union by maritime convoys. It was offloaded in Murmansk or Arkhangelsk and then was transported by rail to its destination. The Shermans that we received were carefully covered with a thick, dark, impregnated paper. Only the driver-mechanic's hatch was left untreated. The driver's compartment had to be accessible because the tank moved under its own power from the port to the rail-loading station.

Almost two days were required to remove this "skin" from the Emcha. I have to give the Americans their due. The machines were excellently prepared for their long journey by sea. During my time at the front, I received new Sherman tanks on five occasions. And never, when removing the shipping and packing preparations, did I find even a drop of moisture in the crew compartment. I know they spent more than a day or two at sea.

At the end of March 1944, the 233d Tank Brigade received replacement personnel and combat vehicles. We received the arriving group of eight Emchas on 8 April at Bel'tsy station. We drove them at night to the village of Skulyany, where the brigade's 1st and 2d Battalions were deployed. On the following day, we set about removing the wrappers from the tanks. In the morning, Misha (the American technical representative with corps headquarters) arrived at the brigade location. He silently observed our efforts for several minutes. The crews were trying to remove the "black undershirt" from the Shermans without damaging the paint on the hull and turret. We managed to accomplish this. Misha was satisfied with the results of our difficult work. Then he posed an interesting question. Did we find any small food parcels in the tanks from the workers who had assembled the vehicles? It turned out that in this case, the parcels had disappeared somewhere between the offloading port and our receipt of the tanks at the railhead. Misha was quite distressed. We had seen him in this state when the Emchas had slid around on the icy road near Fastov in Ukraine.

During the unpacking of the Sherman, much effort, some of it very intricate, was required on the part of the gunner. The main gun and the machine guns (coaxial and hull-mounted) were abundantly covered with thick grease [cosmoline]. The gun tube with muzzle brake and breach components were liberally packed with gun grease (the removal of these 25- to 30-cm plugs required some effort).

The operation to put the long gun in working order normally began with the removal of the grease from its outer surface. This was not a particularly difficult process. Cleaning the grease out of the bore was another matter entirely. Simple devices were used for this task: wooden trowels, staffs, and sticks of various lengths and configurations. The muzzle end of the gun tube was cleaned out first. The breach grease plug was pushed into the crew compartment with a ramming staff inserted at the muzzle. This chore sometimes required the effort of two or three crew members. Our men began this process with the first of the several "Americans" received by the brigade.

Work proceeded in sequence. On one of the Shermans of Yaku-shkin's company, cleaning of the main gun tube was nearing completion. Then, suddenly, something totally unexpected occurred. Along with two grease plugs, a bottle of whiskey, wrapped in a plastic sheet, crashed onto the floor of the crew compartment and broke. What a surprise! The tank commander, Viktor Akulov, was speechless. After a few seconds, the happy alarm was sounded from one end of the street to the other, "Stop! Stop! Stop punching gun tubes!"

A sequence of tasks was developed in the company for removing the gun tube parcels. After removal of the grease plug at the muzzle brake, a thin staff was used to carefully dislodge the middle barrier, then the gun tube was gingerly depressed at the muzzle. A shelter half or tarpaulin was held at the muzzle to receive the gift. The catch was made. How thoughtfully and cleverly this mini-gift was packed so it did not rattle around inside the bore. And it remained intact. In fact, during transport, just as on the march, the Sherman's main gun tube was fastened into a travel lock. It was depressed a bit and immobilized by a device mounted on the front slope of the tank's hull.

We immediately decided to maintain the secrecy of the "secret firm." The foreign-vehicle tankers preserved this secret until the last days of the war.

On his second day in the battalion, Misha came roaring up to us. He was radiant, happy. "The factories are good! Some time ago I informed them about your failure to receive the gifts. They have found a good place to hide their presents!"

新用户注册返回首页
首页上一页下一页尾页页次1/1 转到第页