by Stalingrad- The City that Defeated the Third Reich (epub)
All of this resilience and self-sacrificing work was the result of the education and training given to all our fighters. [ . . . ]
The divisional commander did a lot for the division’s combat training, working like a man devoted to his homeland, sparing neither his time nor his health. I ought to mention that during our time in Stalingrad the two of us didn’t have a single glass of vodka. Gurtyev is an exceptionally caring and loving person who is dedicated to his work. He denies himself everything, won’t allow any kind of luxury. He’s always on the same level as everyone else. He was brave in battle. In Stalingrad our command post was buried more than once, and we had to be dug out. [ . . . ]
In Stalingrad we picked up four spies suspected of passing on the locations of our command posts. One of them was a major whose family was still in Stalingrad. He had decided he must search for his family, but he ran into the Germans. They gave him a choice: either he would give them information or they’d kill his wife. Another was a twelve-year-old boy. I talked with him for four hours before he confessed. He didn’t want to give any names. I think that we lost the 339th Rifle Regiment’s headquarters because of him. He told me how he worked out the locations of our headquarters and command posts by noticing the wires leading away from them, the number of runners, and the barbers that were nearby. Finally, at dinnertime he would see whether the food was coming in mess kits or on plates.
We interrogated one woman, a spy who had been coming to us for a while. She wouldn’t confess for a long time, but then she told us that when the Germans arrived they took [her] two girls as hostages and gave her five hundred Soviet rubles, all so she would extract information from us.
Lieutenant Colonel Alexei Stepanovich Smirnov (Chief of the divisional political section): We admitted people into the party on the march, without slowing down. [ . . . ] In October and November we admitted about 360 new members in Stalingrad. Usually we took people who had shown real heroism. We held them up as examples for all of the units. We’d print their portraits and send them to the front lines. That’s how it was, for example, with Kalinin. Exceptional people were immediately recognized in the army. We’d produce six or seven leaflets. All this work was done by individual party members who had stayed with us. Sometimes you’d have a building being pressed from all sides, but we could still hold them because of the influence of the political workers. For two days comrade Zalipukhin, deputy commander of 1st Battalion, and a group of sixteen men held off an entire subdivision of some three or four hundred Germans. They held their building until the last moment. These men from the 347th Rifle Regiment had only four antitank rifles, a pistol, and a machine gun. In a lot of places our men were forced to retreat, but here they held their ground, even though the Germans were coming closer, and they could hear the roar of their engines. [ . . . ]
In Stalingrad the party-political work went somewhat differently than at Kotluban. There were fewer political workers. In Kotluban, the communists at the lowest level of organization played a crucial role by quickly bringing people together and setting goals. But the situation in Stalingrad was such that all this work was done differently.
Here the crucial role of the party organizations was to make the dispersed forces as productive as possible, at a time when there might be fifteen to seventeen men left in a battalion. Communication between political workers and individual party members was quite difficult to arrange because there was effectively nothing separating us from the Germans. There were certain characteristic features of our agitation work. The political division tasked instructors with making sure that Party workers were placed at the most vulnerable locations. Our workers were always in these areas during attacks and assaults. [ . . . ]
We had two-way radio communication with the other side of the Volga. Every day we got reports on the international situation. We printed Informburo bulletins and distributed them to the divisions. To do this we had we had special club workers—including Subochkin, the projectionist—postal workers, and photographers, who would print fifteen to twenty copies of the Informburo materials and distribute them to the regiments. There was no other literature. There was a time when we’d get two-day-old papers from Moscow. But when the air post stopped we’d only get the papers after eight or nine days, so we just used the bulletins from Informburo.
We lost people every day. By the end of the battle our division had only three or four hundred men west of the Volga. Out of 780 party members there were no more than three hundred by the time we got to Stalingrad, and only a handful of them stayed in Stalingrad. [ . . . ] Despite being wounded, chief of staff Dyatlenko wanted to get his party membership card, and he eventually joined us, still limping, and was able to do excellent work.
Junior officer Fugenfirov was seriously wounded. He’d already been approved by his primary organization, but he hadn’t yet been processed at the bureau level. As he was dying he talked about his membership card, wondering whether he’d been admitted into the party.
Senior Sergeant Nina Mikhailovna Kokorina (Nurse, assistant deputy for political affairs, 347th Rifle Regiment): I became a candidate for party membership on October 14. I was admitted during the heavy fighting in the city itself, when we were trying to cross Skulpture Street. They took me, company commander Alexeyev, and Shuvanov, a medical orderly. The next day we were supposed to go to the divisional party committee. Shuvanov was killed on the evening of the 15th. Alexeyev was seriously wounded and taken to the east bank of the Volga. I was the only one left. But I still decided to go to the ceremony. I went with Pogrebny, the deputy commander for political affairs. The command post was in a tall red building that was more or less intact. On our way there we started getting shot at and bombed by the Germans. But there were people waiting for us. Somehow or other we had to go get our party documents. We walked through ruins, across the railway line. There was rumbling all around, submachine guns were firing. We made it to our headquarters, but no one had come from divisional HQ. We waited a while before heading back. During the return trip I fell behind and got a bit lost. Here’s how it was then: this street’s ours, that one’s theirs; this building’s ours, that one’s theirs. I went and took the wrong road. I walked up to this one building and could hear someone speaking German. I’ll admit I was a bit frightened, though I did have a gun. I took the path to the right. Someone was standing there. I stood up on tiptoe to look around, and I saw someone with a submachine gun. Turns out it’s Pogrebny. I went to him, and he yelled at me. When we got to our command post we heard that the battalion’s chief of staff had been wounded. He’d been seen to by some of the girls there. It was a head wound. I changed his dressings, bandaged him up. I got my candidate member’s card on the east bank at Bruny. In February 1943 I became an official party member and was chosen to be a party organizer.
Alexander Fyodorovich Koshkarev (Party bureau secretary, 339th Rifle Regiment): How did we conduct our party-political work in Stalingrad? [ . . . ] We introduced a new idea: every soldier had to start a personal account of how many Germans he’d killed. This was essentially a stimulus for socialist competition: to see who could kill the most Germans. We would check these accounts, and if a comrade didn’t have any dead Fritzes, we’d have a talk with him, make him feel the shame.
Alexander Dmitriyevich Stepanov (Battalion commissar, 1011th Artillery Regiment): The political and educational element as the regiment was being formed. Well, I can remember it all as if it were today—those ninety convicts who came to us. People in rags, hungry, covered in lice—real cons, as they would say. They frightened me at first, and I wondered how I could educate them, what kind of assignments they could take. I can remember going to inspect the barracks where these men were, and I saw four of them playing cards on top of their bunks, naked. As soon as I entered they got down and put away the cards. I said, “Hand over those cards!” They gave me some old cards, but the ones I’d seen were brand-new. Those weren’t the ones they gave me. When I spoke to the duty officer about this, he said: “I
don’t know why, but it seems that the best men play cards.” And these men said: “We’re only playing a game of Fool.” Shafranov and Gavronsky were among those four. They both had interesting fates.
Shafranov is now a party member in the regiment, a decorated field officer, one of our finest commanders. Gavronsky deserted while the regiment was being formed. He was rounded up near Stalingrad and shot.
Of all the ninety convicts who came to our regiment, only two of them were unable to reform themselves and ended up being shot. All the rest were reeducated and turned into good honest soldiers. [ . . . ]
At Stalingrad the political staff did a lot of work to clear the criminal records of these men I’m talking about. About 25 percent of the men in our regiment had previous convictions. All of them except for a few got their criminal records expunged because of brave conduct during combat. We regarded this as another way to encourage people to do good work. I should also give credit to the regiment’s command and political staff for issuing state decorations properly and in good time. I’ve got to say that, on the whole, every accomplishment in the regiment was recognized with an award from the regimental commander or, for regular soldiers, from the relevant authority. Fifteen percent of the regiment were issued and presented with decorations. That’s a total of 150 men.
I awarded Captain Trifonov, the party bureau secretary, two Orders of the Red Banner, but we still haven’t received the actual medals. [ . . . ]
I’d like to say something about the men’s welfare. Even though people were constantly being shot at and bombed by the enemy, there was still good order in the regiment: the men were shaved and getting haircuts, and they wore clean tunics and trousers. We built a bathhouse, a canteen, and even set up places where the soldiers could mend their tunics, underclothes, and so on. Of course there were times when we were eaten by lice, but we got rid of them quickly.
We accepted 120 people into the party at Stalingrad. Captain Trifonov played an especially important role in this. Every one of them was accepted into the party by him, he was the one who made it all official, and he did all of this while in the field.
Lieutenant Colonel Andrei Sergeyevich Chamov (Commander of the 347th Rifle Regiment): The divisional commander, General Gurtyev, is first and foremost an extremely modest man. That’s his most prominent trait. At first glance he even seems positively inoffensive. A very simple man, sincere and caring. You might have won ten battles, but if you let a single man go without food, then you’re a complete disgrace. I was in the Ravine of Death one day when the general, taking no heed of the danger, walked up to me along with Smirnov, the head of the political department. They spent half a day with me observing the men fight. We were some 150 meters from the front line. They were constantly monitoring the situation, trying to arrive at a meticulously detailed understanding of the enemy, to find out what steps ought to be taken. In these practical matters the divisional commander let his regimental commanders take the initiative, gave them a lot of independence, and always considered their opinions.
There was one occasion I could see there was nothing I could do to assist the divisional commander, nothing I could give him: I had already staked all I had. I wasn’t going to say this to him. I said that everything was just as it should be in war: they’re shooting—and so are we. But in fact they’d nearly broken through my left flank. I reported this to the division’s chief of staff, but I knew they couldn’t do anything, so I decided just to do whatever I could. Somehow Gurtyev overhead our telephone conversation and asked what was going on. He wasn’t in a position to help. He said: “Think about what you can do, but know that I’ve got nothing for you. I’m on my own and can’t give you a thing.”
He was demanding, but to just the right degree. I’d say he had a civilized way of being demanding. He was extremely tactful when he asked you to do something, and this demanding, exacting manner was in some inspiring way linked to far-seeing conviction. People respected and valued him on account of this. He never raised his voice.
His personal staff thought very highly of him. Wherever he went, the first thing he did was visit the canteen and ask how much food they were getting and what they were having for dinner. The soldiers would say: “We’ll have a good dinner today—the general’s here.” But actually the dinner was prepared the same as always. He asked our cook how he dished out the soup. The cook said two fingers from the rim. “Fingers come in different sizes: big and small. See that you make it two small fingers.”
It was a good thing that he knew the men, not only the officers but also the regular soldiers. He’s got an exceptionally good memory: he knows everyone by name. He likes when everything is in order and by the book. Very particular when it comes to following regulations.
Everyone respects him for his modesty, his sincere way of dealing with people when he’s asking them to do something, and for the fact that he really knows his stuff. Nothing bad can be said of him.
Genrikh Aronovich Fugenfirov (Commander of the 1011th Artillery Regiment): He’s an extraordinary man. The general never yells or swears, but if he simply changes the tone of his voice, that means you’ve got to do better, do a better job of following his command. The general’s commands are always carried out. It’s not only the officers who love him, but also the men, who know him well because he’s always driving around to see the units. He is thoroughly acquainted with the soldiers’ daily lives, never goes past a kitchen without dropping by to sample what they’re eating. The men love him. Once I was with him in a car. He spoke about his soldiers with such love. He swears and yells at a soldier, as if he himself were an old sergeant-major, and then he says: “That man will make a fine soldier, a great warrior.”
Major General Leonty Nikolayevich Gurtyev (Commander of the 308th Rifle Division): We all kept it together, and during the worst of it, when it seemed there was no way out, we would pick up our weapons and be ready to keep going to the end. No one even thought of leaving. If we looked toward the Volga, it was because we were expecting reinforcements or ammunition. Everyone felt this sense of duty. It meant a lot to us that the army commander was there with us. The soldiers would often walk along the shore in the open, the girls always joking. Mortars were falling all around, but they’d sit and relax—after all, it’s hard work carrying out the wounded. They didn’t like people who were afraid. [ . . . ] They didn’t like this one doctor because she was nervous, even though she was very skilled and attentive, and she’d always stay in the field to dress the wounded. She wrote me a letter afterward, telling me her impressions of a rally and parade in Stalingrad, where she stayed after we’d left.
Major General Leonty Gurtyev
Or take the sapper battalion. Apart from doing the primary duties, they also fought alongside us, heroically proving themselves at the crossing. We had these small canoes, and it wasn’t easy crossing the Volga at night—even when it was calm—and they ferried over the wounded, ammunition, and reinforcements, all the while under constant bombardment. It’s true that we used another crossing, and in the beginning there was a foot bridge over the Volga, but it was destroyed early on, and the boatmen helped us a great deal with their selfless work. They were decorated, their heroic work was noted.
Senior Sergeant Nina Mikhailovna Kokorina (Nurse, assistant deputy for political affairs, 347th Rifle Regiment): After the war I think I’ll stay in the army and go to the military academy. I’ve been here a few days, but I miss them, I wonder how they’re doing there without me. Before I joined I wanted to go to university to study history and philology. I really like spending time in the archives, just going there and wandering around.
Lieutenant Colonel Afanasy Matveyevich Svirin (Deputy commander for political affairs, 308th Rifle Division): Our division has its own Siberian traditions. Right now we’re preparing a booklet called “Siberians in the Defense of Stalingrad.”106 [ . . . ] All of our party-political work is built on the foundation of our combat experience and on the traditions of the greatest men.
The Moscow historians were not the first to take an interest in the soldiers of the 308th Rifle Division. In November 1942 Vasily Grossman spoke with Colonel Gurtyev and several of his soldiers. His conversations107 formed the basis of a November 25 article in Red Star titled “In the Line of the Main Drive.” The piece describes how the advancing Germans destroyed the 351st Regiment on October 4. The article appears below in its original form.108 The content is consistent with the testimony given in the Stalingrad transcripts, a sign of the meticulous care Grossman took with the material. At the same time the article showcases Grossman’s masterful storytelling.
In his narrative, the impressive will of the soldiers kept the division together. This will welded the troops into a “complete, miraculously constructed, unified body” that performed acts of heroism as a “commonplace and daily habit.” The Moscow historians were no doubt familiar with Grossman’s piece, and it may be what led them to search for the surviving soldiers of the 308th Rifle Division in April 1943.
IN THE LINE OF THE MAIN DRIVE
Vasily Grossman
The regiments that formed Colonel Gurtyev’s Siberian division took up their positions at night. The factory had always looked grim and severe. But could there have been any grimmer picture in the world than that seen by the men of this division on that October morning in 1942? Massive dark workshops; the gleaming wet rails, already touched here and there by traces of rust; a pile-up of broken boxcars; mountains of steel pipes strewn about the vast, square-like factory yard; hills of red slag; coal; the mighty smokestacks, which in many places had been struck by German shells. Dark craters covered the paved grounds, the result of aerial bombardments. Steel fragments ripped apart by the force of the blasts were scattered all around like thin strips of calico.