by Stalingrad- The City that Defeated the Third Reich (epub)
I’ve endured plenty of bombardments and artillery preparations during my life, but I’ll always remember the 14th of that month. You couldn’t hear individual shells going off. No one was counting the planes. You could leave your bunker and not be able to see five meters ahead of you because of all the smoke and dust everywhere. On the 14th our army headquarters lost sixty-one people, but we still had to stay there. When the enemy launched his attack at eleven o’clock on the 14th, I already knew that we didn’t have enough men, and that our only hope was that the men still left would be able to do their job. Just the day before I managed to bring up a single tank brigade, get them well camouflaged and position guards all around them. That night the enemy didn’t bomb them. They didn’t know we were waiting to ambush them. Our tanks knocked out three columns of enemy tanks. Then our tanks were destroyed, but the fact remains that we put a stop to their attack. There wasn’t anything tougher than that day, though we had something similar on November 11.
The attack was on the 14th, and by the 15th they weren’t going to be able to make another one like it. We mobilized our entire army headquarters, our last outpost was on the front lines. We held out for three days until the 138th Division arrived.
People think that urban warfare is a matter of walking down a street and shooting. That’s nonsense. The streets are empty, and the fighting is going on in the buildings, in structures and courtyards where you’ve got to pluck the enemy out with bayonets and grenades. For those fights our men love the Fenya, which is what they call our hand grenade. In urban combat you use hand grenades, submachine guns, bayonets, knifes, entrenching tools. You come face to face with the enemy and slash at them. The Germans couldn’t hold out. They’d be on one floor, our men on another. And then there were their tanks. They brought everything they could, but we had the Volga. (Now at last we can walk along the Volga, and it’s such a pleasure.)
There were no pauses in combat operations, none at all. On September 13–14 our armies came together and wrestled. We hammered each other. We knew perfectly well that Hitler was not going to stop and that he would keep throwing more and more men at us. But he could sense that this was a fight to the death, and that Stalingrad would keep fighting till the bitter end. Stalingrad was constantly under attack, and this lasted until November 20. When we began to sense they were slacking off, we immediately threw in our forces and launched counterattacks. We didn’t leave them alone on Mamayev Kurgan. We attacked them dozens of times. The 37th Division went on the attack around the Tractor factory. There were deadly skirmishes all the time. Up until then we were actively on the defense. Attacking wasn’t part of our mission. But our defense was an active defense. We weren’t just there to withstand attacks, but to use every minute so we could attack later. Some days the fighting was fiercer, some days it was quieter, but it never stopped. Attacks were always underway. What happened on some days was beyond all imagining.
We were waiting for the enemy’s attack before the November holidays. Intel had it that Hitler would be launching a new attack on Stalingrad on November 3. We readied our ammunition and our men. There was no lull in the fighting, but we were still expecting things to heat up. The intel was right. The attack came at the Barricades factory. The enemy was aiming for the north landing, hoping to cut our army in two. But then we were amazed when there wasn’t more of an attack on the 3rd, 4th, 7th, and 10th. The fighting continued, but you didn’t feel much pressure. Front headquarters was worried. The Germans had a huge concentration of equipment, of weaponry of all kinds. They had two divisions in reserve. We knew all this. Had they discovered we were transferring troops to the right flank? Every day Yeryomenko asked me: “What’s going on over there? Have you run away from your sector?” On the 11th the enemy put in the last two divisions that had been in the reserve. We’d basically dragged them in with all our activity. Not to the 64th Army’s sector, not against the Don Front, but against us in particular. We had no aerial reconnaissance, but we had some information from agents. [ . . . ] We got information from prisoners, from the dead, from documents—from things there’s no arguing with.
And then after the 20th that enemy air activity came to a sudden halt, like they’d just been cut off, and they also put a stop to every kind of attack. This was not a time to rest. There was fighting going on somewhere, and this bothered us: “What are we going to do, sit here?” We hadn’t been given reinforcements, they’d all gone to another section of the front.
This active defense—there were two stages—started on September 12–13 and finished on November 20, 1942. Then we felt that we should attack. We gradually began to capture ground we had lost. They launched massive attacks. They had a hell of a lot of firepower. None of our artillery was in a position to suppress it. With this modern automatic fire, you can crush infantry with only a small amount of manpower. Tanks couldn’t move in the city because of all the mines and metal barricades everywhere. After October 14 the enemy tanks hadn’t been able to operate because the terrain was too broken up. I wanted to get seven tanks over to the Red October factory. The men struggled and struggled but we couldn’t get them through. Craters everywhere. The tanks would fall in and not be able to back out. Everywhere was under fire. Some buildings were burned to the ground, but tanks still couldn’t get through.
We had small assault groups that started operations on November 23. Their targets were buildings, basements, factory workshops. These were small but well planned and organized groups with hand grenades. They used all kinds of weapons that I won’t go into here. In particular, flamethrowers—as a defensive weapon—and high-explosive shells. We would drag them out onto the streets, set them up and detonate them. There would be a blast radius of a hundred meters, and then our infantry would move in. The Germans couldn’t withstand them. Balls of thermite. The long-range artillery mostly shot at enemy firing points, and here we had mortars, antitank guns, and our hand grenades. We used them the most, and they’re what worked the best.
The aim of the third stage was to make sure that the enemy forces located here would stay here and not be transferred to other sections of the front. We dragged them into the fight. It was high command’s idea that they should be prevented from leaving. We achieved this. Some of their tanks got away, but the divisions we’d been fighting are all still in place, even though they’ve been shot to pieces. [ . . . ] We’re smashing them. Their morale must be pretty low. We’ve been up against German divisions for the most part. The commander of these two armies is Paulus, a colonel general.
So: the very first stage of this battle took place beyond the Don. It was two armies fighting there for the most part, the 62nd and the 64th, against the enemy’s main attacking forces. We wore them down a lot during that attack. They were already severely weakened by the time they reached Stalingrad. But there they launched aircraft form Crimea and all new forces. The main two strike forces came together near Stalingrad and were directed against the 62nd Army. The 64th Army was resting, doing nothing.
At the second stage, the stakes were total annihilation: either they’d destroy us or we’d destroy them. There was no other way. Every soldier understood that there would be no mercy, that Hitler was not going to stop. I think the enemy’s losses were around three to four times higher than ours, for both tanks and infantry, not including airplanes. That was not a pretty sight. Our Stalin’s Falcons38 would only get as far as the Volga before dropping their payload. They’d fly in and drop their bombs. Sometimes they’d hit us and sometimes they’d hit Germans. And then they’d return. But sometimes we’d see several German planes attack one of ours—and that was just awful, we knew that was the end of our boys. Our air forces did good work at night. I don’t know who thought up that U-2,39 but that’s one valuable invention. We called that plane the KA: king of the air. It wasn’t afraid of anything. And the Germans had such respect for it. They called it death from above. You can take them down with armor-piercing bullets, but it’s not so easy to hit them at all.
&
nbsp; The third stage, which is where we are now, is to prevent the enemy from leaving, to pin them down with our artillery. On November 22 we knew that the enemy had fallen into the ring. They couldn’t get out all the equipment they still had. While they were still wondering what to do, our pincers closed tight. We had sensed that our high command was preparing a major attack, but we didn’t know where exactly. We had sensed this from the very beginning of November. We were being given less and less help. We’d been used to talking to people from front HQ every day, but now they’d all vanished. Khrushchev wasn’t here, and Yeryomenko came only once. [ . . . ]
To be honest, most of the divisional commanders didn’t really want to die in Stalingrad. The second something went wrong, they’d start saying: “Permit me to cross the Volga.” I would yell “I’m still here” and send a telegram: “One step back and I’ll shoot you!” The commander of the 112th Division got such a telegram, so did Gorokhov, Andrusenko,40 Guryev.41 But Rodimtsev, though he barely made it to my command post, just said: “We’ll go down fighting.” All the divisional commanders held on to their divisions except for Yermolkin with the 112th,42 Andrusenko, and Tarasov.43 Rodimtsev behaved excellently in this regard, as did Gorishny44 and Guryev. Lyudnikov45 fought best of all. He got sick before one attack, but at the height of the worst attack on the 11th he went back into battle even though he was sick. He didn’t take one step back. Batyuk and Sokolov46 behaved wonderfully, and Zheludev47 did well. You pick up the phone, yell at him, and say: “What’s going on?” Then he calls for the divisional commissar and gives him an earful. But I very rarely had to talk like that with Rodimtsev, Batyuk, and Guryev.
I couldn’t afford not to be harsh with every one of my divisional commanders, I had to be methodical, constantly keeping tabs on them. The absolute worst thing we’ve had to put up with is when the staffs are lying, and the divisional commander doesn’t check up on them, and they give me false reports. There was plenty of stubbornness among the divisional commanders, except for those I mentioned. Sometimes I had to take action to deal with this.
During the most dangerous time, I told Yeryomenko that everything I had was coming apart and that I was losing control. Have the Military Council stay here on the west bank, but let me move my control base across the river. Communication along the shore was breaking up, our radio wasn’t working, and it was up to me to reestablish communication between the east bank and west bank, where it would connect with the front lines. I thought it necessary to move our army headquarters there, so I could lead better, and to leave the Military Council here. Then I talked to Krylov and Pozharsky: “You’re going over there, and we’re staying here.” I spoke to them one at a time. They both replied: “I’m not going one step away from you.” Rodimtsev might have said the same, Lyudnikov too, and perhaps Guryev or Batyuk. I wouldn’t vouch for some of the others. If I’d said, “All right. Go across to the island,” then they’d have said: “Thank God, he’s letting us go.” Some of them are younger than me, some are my age, and some are older. I didn’t know them before they were sent to me here. But here you don’t need a long history—relationships and bonds are forged in an instant. Every soldier who comes here understands in an instant what his tasks are, he instantly masters the job he is meant to perform. The problem is that many of them don’t last long. [ . . . ]
Divisional commander Nikolai Batyuk (center) and General Chuikov (left) in Stalingrad, January 1, 1943. Photographer: Georgy Zelma
I don’t know the 35th [Guards] Division48 at all. They weren’t defending Stalingrad directly. Guards divisions aren’t really all that different. I’m not about to say they fight any better than non-Guards units. They and the others have strengths when it comes to persistence, responsibility, their willingness to die and to defend until the last drop of blood. They also have their faults. Even in the 13th Guards there were deserters, and Rodimtsev had the most people who “voted with their feet.” But at the same time, take the 84th, 138th, and 95th Divisions—none of them were Guards. Would the Guards have done any better in their place? It’s hard to say. Maybe better, maybe worse.
We have many failings. First of all there’s lying, which is the most detrimental thing for us. Lying and the bad leadership that comes from our commanders’ not knowing what’s what. They don’t know something, but they pretend they do. That’s good for absolutely nothing. Better to say nothing at all. They’re not man enough to say they don’t know. This one time I was speaking with Guryev. I respect him as a leader, but sometimes he doesn’t think before he opens his mouth. We were about to launch an attack. I’d already checked everything to do with the artillery, who was in charge, how the observation and liaison was organized. I called him: “Comrade Guryev, how are things there?” He said: “Everything’s fine, all’s well,” and so on.49 I said: “You’re lying, that’s not right.” And I started to lay it out to him.
“That’s not possible.”
“What do you mean ‘not possible’? Get on the phone right now, check it out, and report back to me in half an hour.”
Half an hour later he called back: “You were right.”
But it’s difficult to speak to someone that way if you don’t have any hard facts. Usually people just tell you that they’ve completed this task and that task. Does that mean I should write my report right now? Just wait a minute. I’m sending my own liaisons. They’ll go check on things themselves. I’ll go to the divisional HQ myself, talk with them, see how the liaison officers are doing, and if they’re not up to the task I get rid of them.
My own mistakes? I ought to have pulled back certain units, chosen a more defensible line. But I couldn’t do that because I wasn’t sure whether they’d stop at that line. That’s one. The second relates to how we use our tanks. This wasn’t clear then, and it still isn’t clear now. There’s no point in digging the tanks in and keeping them there simply as guns. You can affect a better ambush with field guns. They’re smaller, easy to move, and easier to keep supplied. Tanks ought to be used as mobile groups. Light tanks haven’t proven their worth. KVs50 and T-34s should stay. Their guns and armor make the KV strong, as does their power and off-road capabilities. Aircraft now being what they are, it’s impossible to camouflage tanks intended for an important offensive in such a way that the enemy can’t find them. But I can’t agree with turning tanks into a passive means of defense. A tank will always be a tank, an offensive weapon. Better to replace it in a defensive role with our 45mm cannon. I can drag one of them into a building or an attic, but you can’t disassemble a tank, can’t drag it out and put it somewhere. We had our tanks set up in the ground, but they ought to have been pulled out and made into some kind of strike force. After we remembered this, we created a few mobile reserves, and they’ve played their part. [ . . . ]
We have enough artillery. The guy inside a tank, he’s behind armor, but when the bombs are coming he can feel it all that much more, and on top of that he can’t see a thing. What’s that for a vision slit? We can’t even make him a decent vision slit. The German tanks are better in terms of visibility. Our tanks are better that the Germans’ when it comes to speed and maneuverability, but they’re blind.
Just understand this one thing: all of this has made an impression on our psyches, but you can’t go and make generalizations based on our actions. At the same time, we wonder: Could we have done something better? I honestly don’t think so. What did we overlook? Here I’ve got to admit that it was the factories. This is despite the fact that we had an order and the forces—we positioned special sapper units there to fortify them, though this work wasn’t coordinated—and we also weren’t seeing the same resilience and persistence that the Germans are showing us now. We missed it, even though we could have turned the factories into strong centers of resistance in the city. What kept the units inside the factories from doing this? No doubt it was the enemy aircraft. They were able to build well enough when the factories weren’t being bombed. But when they started bombing, the machines and
roofs went flying. Reinforced concrete doesn’t hold up. They left the factories. Ready-made graves. Bad enough if they’d been dropping small bombs—but, as it was, we had one-ton and five-ton bombs flying around, along with armor plating and steel rails—no one can cope with that. It was mostly Messerschmitt51 fighters dropping these bombs.
How was this typical of the fighting in Stalingrad? When an officer or soldier comes to Stalingrad and crosses to this side, he’s already hardened, he knows his mission, what he’s fighting for, why he came here, and what he’s got to do. During the entire time we’ve been fighting for Stalingrad I don’t think there’s been a case of our units retreating or running away when they ought to have been fighting somewhere. You couldn’t find such a company. You stay wherever dawn finds you because you can’t move at all during the day. You’d be shot to pieces, so you stay there until dark. We fought to the last. We didn’t know retreat. Hitler didn’t allow for this, and that was a mistake.