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Vladimir Zimakov

Part I. Panzerknacker.

Vladimir Zimakov, May 9 1945, Galati Romania. (From V.Zimakov's archive)

I understood that the war had begun when the planes started bombing the city of Smolensk, where we lived at that time. It happened on June 22 or 23. Our family was evacuated. I was drafted in 1943, when I was 18. First we were sent to the town of Morshansk, Tambov Region. Then we were sent for military training at Melikess camps in Ulyanovsk Region. We received new underwear, but our uniforms were old. I guess the uniforms were taken from our dead soldiers. They had carefully mended traces of the bullets and shell fragments.

Boy, it was cold! We were lucky to have long coats, wool and cotton underwear, and boots with warm puttees. Once some Uzbeks were sent to our camp. Oh, they were poor things! They were allowed to wear a "khalat" [a kind of quilted gown] under their coats. Actually, you didn't get cold, there was so much training and running. Once in every ten days' period we had to march 20 kilometers. They would put 16 kilograms [36 lb.] of sand into your backpack, you took your rifle and went ahead.

It went this way from January to March. In March they lined us up and ordered: "Those who have 7 grades of school and more-take 3 steps off the line." I stepped off the line, because I had 8 grades. In general, most of our fellow soldiers were country boys. Some of them had 5 to 6 grades, the others were not educated at all. About a hundred were chosen and sent to an officers school. "Take your things and move out." What things did we have then?! A pair of underwear, a piece of black soap and a towel. Nobody even had a toothbrush--it was not regulation! Look into a German soldier's backpack. There was a neat toothbrush, toothpowder, a piece of "ersatz" soap. Everything was nice, German-style. This ersatz soap was harsh, perhaps contained sand or something else. It lasted a long time.

It took us three days to go from Melikess to the town of Kinel, near Samara. We were ordered to go to the 3rd Kuybyshev infantry school. The school was located about 130 kilometers from the Volga River. We looked just like military students before the war: woolen shirts, cotton trousers, high leather boots. After six months of studying we were supposed to go to the front and receive the rank of lieutenant there. How many of these lieutenants were killed in the front! Man, just a few of them survived. As soon as one of them arrived at the front, he bumped into a German sniper. We never bothered to shield a man. Officers had a different kind of a shirt than enlisted men, and they wore a cap with a peak. German snipers shot well.

We had been studying for two months when we received the order for the senior class to go to the front. No problem, except that the uniforms for them weren't delivered in time. That is why we had to take off our uniforms and the senior class put them on. We were given our old clothes, but in the meantime our boots had disappeared, so we got bast shoes with white puttees. We wore them for two months until our new uniforms were delivered.

AT-riflemen training.

We had been studying for three months in all when the school was closed. We were sent to Inza, where we became sergeants. That was a large camp in the middle of a pine forest. There were high bunks built in three levels and big rats, the size of horses [laughs]. Our brigade consisted of regiments which specialized in machine guns, artillery, tanks and PTR-rifles . I was sent to the PTR-rifles regiment. They taught us well. We learned a lot about how to shoot with rifles, SMGs and, of course, with Degtiarev and Simonov PTR . The Degtiarev kicks hard to the shoulder. The Simonov's recoil is smaller and it has 5 bullets in its magazine and semi-automatic feed. We shot with the PTR at a moving plywood replica of a tank. Where to aim? When it drives toward you, aim at its visor or under its turret, to make it immovable. Fire at its visor! Go, target it 500 meters from the tank. Some managed it, but I didn't. Well, you can break its tracks apart with a bullet, if you are lucky. That makes the tank stop and either the PTR-riflemen or artillery men will destroy it. If a tank shows you its side, then you can aim at its ammunition. It's fine! That makes such a great explosion! Fireworks! The tank goes to pieces, its turret with the cannon flies apart. Marvelous! The soldiers are shouting, jumping, throwing their caps in the air. That is how we got our "Ferdinand," but that is a special story.

They taught us for three months, gave us the rank of sergeant, and sent us to the front. We rode by train for 2 months. On our way to the front about 20-30 of us were killed by mines. All the ground along the rails was littered with mines. One sailor disconnected a "frog" mine. How had he managed to do this? What a fool! Some young soldiers stood around and peered. He said, "Look, it jumps. I'll catch it and it won't explode." It jumped and exploded. He got his arm torn away and his guts blown out. Another soldier was killed and three others were wounded.

We arrived in the city of Stariy Oskol and found that the bridge had been blown up; so we were trapped. The Battle of Kursk had ended just two weeks before. While our train was waiting, we were ordered to bury the corpses. We carried the remains of the tankists out of the tanks, both ours and the Germans. The smell of corpses! We got used to it after a while, but in the beginning it was nauseating. We had no choice. Man, there were an awful lot of exploded tanks! Some of them had clinched together and stood rear up. Whose tanks were more? We didn't count. Maybe, the German ones.

We buried the soldiers in collective graves. Of course, we always searched in their pockets for documents. If we found money or, say, a locket, we sent it to the relatives. Sometimes we found letters written in case of death. Many people had nothing, no papers. The tankists looked like burnt out toys. How could we find out their names? I don't understand why, but they didn't smell. We buried the Russians and the Germans together, just wrote above the graves, "Here buried that number of Russians and that number of Germans."

Up until 1944 our 22nd Infantry Division of the 55th Army hadn't taken part in any battles. We were sent to the vicinity of the city of Korsun-Schevchenko. We were on foot, doing some 70 kilometers through the long January night. It took us about 2 weeks. We felt drowsy all the time. It was a warm January. The roads became swampy. You are walking along Ukranian black earth and it sticks to your boots and puttees by the ton. You clean it off and it is all the same in a dozen steps. Oh, we did walk a lot [laughs].

AT-riflemen of the 186th Rifle Division. Karelian front. 1942.

I was serving in a PTR company. I had an aide, his name was Malyshev. He was a tall man from Siberia, born in 1925. We had a PTRS. First, we carried it assembled, then our commander allowed us to disassemble it. Imagine, it weights 22 kg. Besides that, we have 200 cartridges for it, that makes another 28 kg. I also had a Nagan pistol (#1 had a pistol and #2 had a submachine gun). Malyshev carried a PPSh with three magazines of cartridges, rations and underwear. We had to carry it all by ourselves!

"Halt!" All right. Reconnaissance reported, "The Germans are near." We receive the order to dig trenches at the edge of the village. What's its name? "Komarovka." Big deal, "Komarovka!" ["Gnats"]. In Ukranian it's Komarivka. OK, which way to dig the trenches? This way, to the village. We dig the trenches. Our own trench is below the mill, horse-shoe shaped. What's the time? It's 3 o'clock. We dig a bit more, but the water starts seeping into the trench and we stop.

Well, we did have trouble that time! It had never been like this during the whole war. It happened that at this time the Germans were sitting quietly in a ravine behind the village. As our infantry dug the trenches and relaxed, they started firing like hell with mortars at the direction of the village. They had a heavy machine gun just above our trench, on that very mill. And they were firing it into the village. Our trench was within 5 meters, why didn't they throw a grenade? Perhaps, they didn't have one? Malyshev waited a little while and said, "Volodka, I'm going to climb up there. I'll shoot them," he says. "Give me your pistol." I give him my pistol and he climbs out. After a while, I hear everybody shooting, the Germans and Malyshev. "Malyshev is dead," I think. Nothing of the kind! He is getting out of there. Killed both of them who were sitting there. "It's over," he says, "I have shot them dead."

Then the nightmare began. Boy, I didn't see any officers that night! We started firing with our rifle . Which way to fire, then? It's as black as ink! We shot in the direction of the flashes, used about 20 or 30 cartridges this way. It turned out afterwards that there were only 500 Germans. We were 2 battalions in the trenches against them. Besides that, we had one reserve battalion. We were greenhorns, you know, but those who were experienced had been confused also. Then we saw one senior lieutenant. He shouts, "Fall back, boys. Remove the lock and throw your away." We did as he told us. We took it apart and hid it in the trench. Malyshev put the lock into his pocket and covered the rifle with his telogreika. This officer had both his legs wounded. We took him under his arms and ran together. The Germans kept firing mortars. The rest of our units were withdrawing. The soldiers fell, fell. And the Germans continued to fire. Most of our soldiers turned in to a dell to hide from the bullets. The officer says, "Run straight up the hill! Up the hill! Don't you turn to this dell, there's going to be slaughter in there right now!" It was true. The Germans directed the mortar fire that way, it was awful. Imagine? So, we have passed the top of the hill. We had to sit down and rest. He says, "Let's stop for a moment, I have my heart in my throat." He looked young, but both his legs were wounded. Fortunately, the bones weren't hit, just the flesh.

Aha. It's dawning. You know, we are sitting this way in high, dry grass and there are two Germans passing by. The lieutenant sees them first. "Silence," he says, "it is the Germans. Lay down. I'll shoot them, you might miss." He cocks his TT pistol and aims. Snap. The second German fires back at once. The Germans were trained to fire to the direction of the shot. The lieutenant shoots the other one too. That offhand. An experienced guy. We were scared to death. I thought it was the end. Actually, everything was for the first time for us.

Well, we fell back. Unlike us, our reserve battalion came forward, mopped up the German troops, took the village and went further on. And we two battalions had run away. That's it. Half of the soldiers who ran into the dell were killed. To cut the story short, we had only one battalion of the two left. A battalion has five hundred soldiers. A company consists of 125 soldiers. So, we had three companies and platoons of machine guns, submachine guns and mortars.

In the morning we came to our division headquarters. We brought our lieutenant to the medical unit and reported what had happened in the dell. They promised to send medics with horse carts to bring out the living. The lieutenant says, "The boys saved my life, they must be rewarded." We answer, "He himself saved our lives." Everybody's laughing, "Inexperienced boys." He was taken to the operating table at once. They treated all his wounds very carefully, though without anaesthesia. He was very patient. Brave fellow!

Aha. Where are we to go now?
--Where is your weapon?
--Here it is.
--What are you?
--We are PTR-riflemen.
--Where is your PTR then?
--We left it there.
--Go back and get it!

Well, we went back. It was colder in the morning and the road was less swampy. We went and heard the moans from the dell! It was awful! Devil! Nobody was on the road, we were going along alone. So, we returned and found our PTR where we left it. We entered the village--there was nobody alive. One old man appeared out of a shed then. Aha. I say, "Dad, how did you manage to stay alive?" "I don't know, boys. Your fellows were shooting back at the Germans from inside that house all night." We came nearer. They were our regiment reconnaissance. All of them were killed. That's it. That was our first battle.

A. D. --Did you ever fire at the infantry with a PTR ?

Sometimes we did, but usually we saved the cartridges for tanks. By the way, there was a case. It was one of our first days on the front. I guess the Germans decided to test how we'd behave ourselves under the fire. So they started artillery and mortar bombardment. The fire was strong, we were hiding from the shells in the bottom of the trench. Apparently, a shell hit the next trench. Some soldiers were killed. One Uzbek was "contused." He jumped out of the trench, turned around and ran towards the Germans. Here our battalion commander is running, yelling, "Shoot him! Shoot him!" He came running to us, shoved Malyshev aside, aimed at that soldier with our PTR and snapped him right in the back of the head. Then we ran to counter-attack, turned him face up--his face was absent, blown off. Heck, the bullet weighted 70 grams.

Afterwards, we were in trenches around Korsun for a week. That is where we, Malyshev and I, got the Ferdinand. [Russians soldiers called every German SPG "Ferdinand."] Our position was very unsuitable. The Germans stayed on a ridge and we were in a hollow. There were about 200 meters between us. There was a village on that ridge. And behind the corner of one of the houses was hidden their SPG . Just the cannon stuck out. Their observer was probably there too, because as they found our position, this vehicle crept from behind the house and shot precisely. Our people were just slaughtered. And our 45 mm cannons located behind us, on the hilltop. Look, they had chosen such a bad position, the most unsheltered one. By that time, none of the artillery men were alive. When we got there, we saw two cannons and dead soldiers next to them. And they had already been covered with snow, those soldiers. There was nobody to bury them. Five T-34 tanks were set on fire in front of our eyes. One shot and it is over. Then another one. Bloody Germans, they were smart and strong warriors. There wasn't anybody stronger then they, except us fools. We have always fought with our fists, running straight into danger without looking before we leapt.

The commander of the company had already sent three pairs of men, none of them came back. Either a sniper shot them, or they were hiding under other tanks and were shot by SPG, I don't know. He said, "Go ahead, boys, crawl underneath the first tank, don't be scared." My Malyshev was a brave man. Boy, he was a real hunter, a Siberian! Though I was #1, he always shot with the PTR . I was a bit gutless [laughs]. Well, he says, "Volodja, don't worry. We'll target it." And through the night we went crawling. We hid under a tank that had managed to move up, and fired, mostly close to the Germans. It was about 150 meters to that hut.

AT-riflemen. (Photo courtesy of SOR website)

In the morning we started shooting from time to time. We hit either its tube or the tracks, because we didn't see anything else. Then she found us and fired. My, what a fury! Our turret was blown away! Fortunately, it didn't hit underneath the tank, or it would have been the end of us. I lost my hearing. She crept from around the corner to finish us off. I thought, "It is over, they will smash us." But Malyshev didn't lose his nerve. While she was showing us her side, he pointed the PTR from under the track and hurled 5 bullets into her side, one after another. That was an explosion! Our Ferdinand blew to pieces--its turret, everything!

On our way back, the Germans hit us with mortar fire. We were already close to our trenches by that time. The shells were exploding nearby. Short hit. Overshot. I say, "Malyshev, let's run!" Why he was reluctant? I don't know. He either was wounded or had lost his hearing. I'm jerking his leg, "Come on!" I don't remember what happened next. I came to consciousness in the trench when the fire had already ceased. The boys said, "A shell exploded on you both. I wore a cuirass under my telogreika and coat. You know, all the coat had been pulled apart, but I had no scratch on me. Malyshev had his right leg torn away. Why didn't we wait until night? The commander told us, "Do our task and get away at once. Otherwise, you are dead. The Germans will crawl up and kill you." We had a PTR , a Nagan pistol and a submachine gun with just one magazine. Malyshev didn't take more, he was sure that everything would be all right. I received an award at the end of the war, the medal "For Bravery," for this kill. Actually, those soldiers who targeted the tank should have been given an award of 500 rubles and The Order of the Red Star. Well, the first and the best award was "For Bravery" and after that The Order of Glory .

When the dust had settled, most of the soldiers of our company were dead. At the beginning, we had 60 soldiers, i.e. 30 rifles (a regiment's company of PTR ). Now we had only about 10 pairs left. The commander of the platoon was killed. A week passed and we received fresh forces from the local people, born 1926-1927. Everybody was drafted and shipped to the front. We called them "black shirts," because they wore dark clothes and gray military coats. They didn't receive uniforms.

Then we went further and inhabited the dugouts that had been made by sappers. They did their best, the dugouts had two or three layers of logs. That is where I got "contused." When I regained consciousness, there was nobody in the dugout and one corner of it had collapsed. I didn't report to the medical unit. I didn't understand whether it was a bombardment, or what. The Germans were supposed to have run out of shells by that time. Perhaps, it was a bomb?

We went further. It is a night march again. The moon is shining. The German reconnaissance planes are flying. Well, when this "frame" appears, we receive the order, "Halt!" When the Germans have flown away, we continue marching. I had another aide by that time. We kept on going this way until we fell into a crater. It was full of water, level with the road, and so deep, that my head plunged under the water. We barely got out of there and were sent then to the medical unit. They checked my aide, his temperature and all, and released him. I was retained. "Contused." I had an earache and, besides that, couldn't speak well. I was taken to the hospital and lay there for two weeks. Then the boys started talking, "Why should we stay here? Let's catch up with our unit. There is much fun." There were six of us. We tricked our nurse into returning our uniforms. Then we said, "Good bye, Masha!" "Where are you boys going?" "To the front, to catch up with our unit" "I'll report you!" "Go on."

 

PART II

A.D. - Artem Drabkin