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The circuit of road of 2-nd Guards cavalry cases
of the German grouping holding. Mozyr� and item Kalinkovichi, December
1943-Januar 1944. From S.N.Sevrjukov�s book having been. The chif of staff
17 Guards cavalry divisions �At it was (a note cavalryman)�. M. Voenizdat,
1957�
To continue. On bogs of
Polesye in the pedestrian I build
���� I could tell we were heading towards
the German rear, because the sounds of cannonade were heard somewhere from
behind. We took some precautions: machine-gun carts, as well as wagons for
regimen munitions, which were kept in the middle of the column, followed
two squadrons that in their turn were convoyed by the perimeter guard. Two
other squadrons brought up the rear. The flanks and the back of the column
were covered by combat security that kept about 50-100 meters away from it.
It was prohibited to light the fire during halts in the daytime lest its
smoke should disclose our position. Every now and then the column would
come to a halt, because horse-drawn wagons were getting stuck in a swamp. So
we had to make up a brushwood road by cutting down with shovels thin trees
(there were no axes at hand) and putting them across the way right on the
snow. To keep it steady under the wheels of the wagons thicker trunks were
laid upon poles and tied together by means of young fir branches.
�Artillery Battery armed with 76-millimeter long-barreled guns that
followed the regimen was left behind: it got badly stuck in a swamp. We
only had left several short-barreled ones. They were drawn by horses of
course, but as soon as they got stuck we had to pull them out ourselves.
During our nighttime stops we laid the fire masking it thoroughly by fir
trees stacked around it. We would get ourselves comfortable around the fire
and spent time drowsing and squabbling. When the fire was about to go out
someone had to go and get more wood. It was incredibly difficult to grope
for it in the darkness, with snow level as high as your knees and pits full
of melted ice that one would inevitably step into.
At daybreak we were given
an order to draw up, and so weary hungry soldiers, still half-asleep,
assumed the position. The column was set in motion again, with guerilla
guide showing the way. Sometime later we halted to eat some porridge cooked
in the travelling kitchen. And then � back on the road, feeding on rye
zwiebacks stone hard from cold.
Sometimes we would walk
into German defensive screens, ambushes that is. After letting the line get
somewhat closer, the patrol peppered us with heavy machine-gun fire from
well-camouflaged nests. An order was given to leave the formation and
surround the nests from flanks. So we dropped down into the snow and shoot
at the gleam of flashes, where squealing tracer streaks were screaming
from. Then everything would fall silent, stillness being disturbed only by
moans and screams of the wounded. And those who finally got into the ambush
rear discovered that nests were already empty, the Germans withdrew intact
leaving only a pile of used shell cases at their wake.
The wounded attended to,
the dead buried, the column was back in motion.
In the end of December a
thaw set in. The snow turned into pools of icy water mixed with swamp mud.
Our valenki were heavy with water, and we could barely drag our feet. We
were utterly physically exhausted. Downcast hunched soldiers slowly worked
their way on, pulling along their ammunition. Heavy loads and scant feeding
robbed the horses that drawn the wagons of their strength. They would fall
into pools of icy water, and we had some trouble propping them up and then
had to support the wagons with our shoulders. Our stops were so short that
we had no time to dry up our valenki near the hastily laid fire.
Somehow these event
brought back some memories of my younger years spent in Bolshevo, when wet
feet immediately resulted in my coming down with burning fever and angina.
Nothing of that kind was happening to me now, in this unbelievable
atmosphere; I did not even develop cough.
We came up to a relatively
large settlement, I think it was called Buinovichi, where, according to the
guerilla patrol, a German garrison bolstered with several tanks was
stationed.
Our regimen deployed in a
battle order, consolidated on positions, digging foxholes among snow
hillocks (it was impossible to dig trenches in wet snow covering bog
ground). We established telephone communication between the Regimen
Headquarters and the squadron and started to mount an attack. German guns
observed silence: our enemy was either bracing itself for a fight-back, or
never knew we were around.
At daybreak, two
squadrons, me being in one of them in charge of the telephone
communication, were ordered to bypass the settlement from its right. We
sent forward a patrol and were advancing slowly doing our best to remain
unseen. I was uncoiling the telephone cable and following the others.
���� In front of us lied a small bare
hillock. According to what the scouts said, there were Germans behind it,
busy doing something, fussing about though not suspecting we were getting
closer to them. Having extended the line, we moved by bounds hiding among
the bushes and making it near to them. Some buildings of the settlement and
people walking around, and - much to our Squadron Commander dismay - two
tanks with started engines came into sight.
He communicated with the
Headquarters:
���� What
shall we do? I got one antitank rifle and some antitank bombs.If they
attack there is nowhere we can find a cover, and nothing to ward back the
attack with.
����� The
response was the following (I remember it was Lieutenant Colonel Gerbut,
second in Regimen Command speaking):
����� They
have not noticed you so far. A sudden attack may startle them.You will get
support on the other flank.
It never worked that way.
I think they took notice of us earlier, and were simply letting us get closer
counting on their obvious fire ascendancy.
They had each flank
covered by fortified machine-gun nests, and so we found ourselves
crisscrossed with fire. Then tank guns and mortars were committed to
battle. There was no use of our lying under this deadly rafale and hiding
out behind bushes and tussocks, though neither was it possible to withdraw
covering with surprise short-range fire. And there was nothing to return
the murderous fire with. We had in our disposal carbines, sub-machine guns,
and the so-called �pineapples� that we could not use because unless thrown
out from a cover they also injured the one who threw them.
Prompted by the orders
from officers and sergeants we started to move forward by bounds. The
Squadron Commander lying next to me was killed and Junior Lieutenant
Commander of some platoon took his place. Soon he was shot, too. He got a
bullet in his cheek, and it tore its way though his face ripping a piece of
his other cheek away as it came out. I got my pouch kit and wrapped a bandage
around his head. He could not talk, the only thing he could do was
gesticulate.
I heard the tank engines
roaring, and I was about to think that was the moment when my life would
come to its abrupt end, but�. the tanks were now driven in the opposite direction.
As we learnt later, the
Germans made a short work of figuring out what maneuver our Command
hatched. After sending two squadrons to bypass the Headquarters basically
had no defense. And this is where the tanks supported by infantry headed
while we were left free to attack the positions the Germans had already
abandoned.
After scattering around
our wagons and forcing staff service into the hastened retreat into marshes
impassable for tanks, the Germans easily loosened the noose and headed
somewhere to the south, toward a railway station lying several kilometers
away and not yet occupied by our troops.
We estimated the losses:
in my squadron there were 50 or 70 people left, others, including all the
officers, were wounded or dead.
We had no other choice but
to spend that night near the Regimen Headquarters. We cleared some patches
of ground from snow and covered them with fir branches to sleep on. I took
off (with much difficulty) my wet valenki, put my feet into the cap,
wrapped myself into the coat from head to toes and shivered all night long,
dozing off occasionally.
���������������������������������������� 4.
����� That wearisome raid into
deserted Pripet marshes intermitted by clashes with German patrols lasted
till January 12 1944, when we finally walked up to a village burned down by
chasteners at the bank of Pripyat� River. If I am not mistaken it was
called Costyukovichi. Standing a tremendous strain and being haunted by a
never-easing feeling of a close death, freezing during cold nights in wet
clothes - because it was prohibited to light fire to get warm, gnawed by
constant hunger (as our connections with rear services were broken) I
survived December and the first half of January. The New Year arrived
unnoticed.
And now in front of us
stretched a broad snow-drifted valley of the river splitting into several
riverbeds. Smoke hovered above chimneys in some village as far as the
horizon.
Several hours of rest in
frosty air. Heavy snowfall followed the thaw that was over couple of days
ago. We were ordered to check and clean our weapon, but no shooting � lest
our position should be uncovered. As though the scouts who got to the
opposite bank made sure no one was there to lay an ambush for us. Hiding
behind snowdrifts the squadrons made it to the opposite bank. The
Headquarters were left on the right bank, so my companion and I had to
carry four rolls of cable and two telephones. Uncoiling the cable and
trying not to lag behind we followed the squadron. Some riverbeds and creases
were covered with thin ice that was caving in as we crawled across it. At
our wake the Cavalry Artillery Battery armed with two 76-millimeter short-barreled guns
came crashing under the ice. The horses struggling with their harness were
breaking it with their hoofs, but I think never managed to get themselves
out of the ice-hole.
We reached the other bank
to the left of the village of Mikhnovichi, and having extended the line, started to come
closer to it.
The Squadron Commander
took a position on a small hillock behind some barn. Because we were
separated from the Headquarters by a valley several kilometers wide, an
intermediary communications center was set in a small ravine between two
riverbeds. A person was left there with a telephone. He was supposed to get
messages and pass them on by repeating their exact wording. After having
crossed the river with the squadrons and uncoiled three rolls of cable I
established communication with the Headquarters and passed the telephone to
the Squadron Commander.
And this is where it
started�
It turned out the Germans
were watching us from the higher left bank, from where the valley could be
easily surveyed by means of binoculars. Having ensured that our forces were
rather limited (we only had small arms), they let us get closer in order to
crush our troops on the bank, leaving no opportunity for us to leap the
river. And their forces, as it became clear later, were far more superior
to ours.
In the meanwhile the
darkness fell. The barn next to which the Squadron Commander took his
position caught fire. The unbearable heat and bright light that was giving
away our position forced us to crawl closer to the river into the ditch
along the railway.
Lying under rafale of
mortar fire and shiny tracer streaks of machine cannons, the soldiers
returned fire limply using their carbines and submachine guns. The medium
machine gun �Maxim� that was the only one in the whole squadron fell
silent, because the belt got stuck. The cartridges that I had on me were
running out (in my two pouches I had all in all 8 clips; there were ten
more in my backpack, but there was no way I could get them lying in a
shallow pit). Returning fire with my carbine I never noticed the Squadron
Commander was gone. Communication with the Headquarters was cut off long
ago.
Suddenly I felt as though
a steel spring came unhinged and started to vibrate in my shin. My valenok
got filled with blood, and then I could no longer feel my leg. There are
some lapses in my memory, probably because I fell unconscious. After
looking around I realized I was lying on the snow all alone, except for the
corpses of the dead and bodies of the moaning wounded around.
Then I was delivered a
heavy blow in the head, and everything was enveloped in darkness.
I have no idea of what
happened next or how I spent the night. After opening my eyes I found
myself half-sitting among some sacks in a moving cart. The right side of my
head was one big swelling. My eye puffed up enormously. It felt as though I
was half-asleep, and my head was blanketed by the fog thick enough to block
out all sounds from the outside. A huge �stiff� wearing the German uniform
was marching beside the cart. Seeing that I came round he asked me a
question which I did not catch and did not understand. In the front of the
cart sat a soldier in the German uniform as well, with a German rifle on
his back.
I started to listen
carefully and look around me. Trying to put myself in a more comfortable
position I felt as though my leg had weights attached to it that kept it
immobile. Dull throbbing pain was shooting through it. I had no headache,
but my head was sort of filled with thick fog that buffered sounds.
Everything seemed to be a silent movie.
The cart in which I was
driven was moving in a string of others. The people who walked along them
were wearing the German uniform with stripes on their right arm saying they
were the Russian Liberation Army - Vlasovtsy. Parallel to the string of
wagons marched a column of people wearing white fur overalls and armed with
sub-machine guns. Among them there were officers in bluish-gray uniform and
high crowned caps with their earflaps down.
I realized I was taken
captive, but could not tell how it happened. The last thing I remember are
silhouettes of our soldiers retreating somewhere back in the rear. The next
day, when I could hear better, I was explained that Vlasovtsy who
functioned as a sort of a trophy team, picked me up, brought into the
village, and when retreating in the morning put me into the cart.
From that moment on my life
in captivity started. I was held prisoner for about 18 months during which
I saw nothing else but humiliation, starvation, beatings, and violation of
dignity. But this story stands on its own.
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