At last on 16 September an order arrived: ‘The Brigade to set out and on the 17.9.44 to muster in the area of Monorosti.’ We did the march at night, using all the normal camouflage and precautionary measures. The tanks moved in pitch darkness under the dull light of fender-lights, finding the road and direction by instinct. The night was cold; we were drowsy. Before dawn we reached the designated area, and stationed and disguised the tanks. The tommy-gunners jumped off the machines – hopping around and energetically swinging their arms, they warmed themselves up and stretched their legs. We camped in this area for three days, being the comcor’s reserve, and by the morning of the 19th the main brigade forces had mustered in the area of Lipov.
On 21 September heavy fighting broke out in a limited area of the town of Arad – a major junction of rail, high and earth roads. The enemy had managed to muster quite a large group of troops out of units withdrawing from Romania to strike a blow at the weakened forces of our 18th Tank Corps and the 53rd Army. Our troops began to retreat with heavy losses, having left behind the settlements of Zigmund-Kuz and Etvekes. At this point the comcor decided to throw his reserve into action and tasked the commander of the 170th Brigade via radio: ‘Advance immediately. Together with the main forces of the corps, destroy the opposing enemy and recapture the abandoned settlements.’ Chunikhin ordered the battalions to be brought up to the starting line and, having taken his combats with him, rushed to reconnoitre the situation and ensure interaction with the corps brigades which were already in combat. Once the tanks were in position, he allocated tasks for the battalions in the field and confirmed the ‘CH time’ – the time of the start of the offensive.
The offensive commenced. It was a test of Zadorozhnyi’s patience and resolve. He was excessively nervous and fidgety, harassing me and Ryazantsev. Generally speaking, he was more of a hindrance than a help. Our initial attack failed, and we pulled back to the starting line. The combrigs brought up artillery, and the air force was called up. After another detailed allocation of tasks we advanced, supported by artillery and aircraft. My company reached the eastern outskirt of Zigmund-Kuz, while Ryazantsev’s moved up against the fire emplacements of an enemy artillery battery. Having shot and smashed the guns, they broke through to the Sumandul–Arad high road with great difficulty, where they became engaged in a major shoot-out. His company incurred significant losses: one tank was destroyed and stood motionless on the periphery, and two others were burning in Zigmund-Kuz. My company destroyed one enemy tank, smashed three anti-tank guns, but we also lost a tank. The brigade finally captured Zigmund-Kuz after an intense fight with significant losses and reached the high road to Arad. This fierce action lasted until late evening.
At dawn of the 22nd the brigade, in cooperation with the 32nd Motorized Rifle Brigade, continued to advance. Having dislodged the enemy from the high road, our battalion switched to the pursuit of the retreating enemy, but on the approach to Sfyntu-Poul we ran into a defensive screen and failed to break through it. The infantry and artillery intensified their onslaught and the tanks slowly disengaged from the enemy under their cover. We bypassed the enemy strongpoint using ravines and the rugged off-road terrain, and struck the enemy from the rear. The Germans didn’t expect an attack from this direction and began to withdraw. However, the enemy aircraft appeared at this point – they relentlessly bombed and strafed the brigade’s position. Spare fuel containers were hit, instrument racks and crates were destroyed and rollers were crushed on many machines. Company Commander Ryazantsev and a brigade communications officer, Senior Lieutenant Chebashvili, were wounded and sent to hospital.
Captain Zadorozhnyi failed this test: he was clearly unqualified to lead the battalion. Chunikhin ordered Zadorozhnyi to hand all tanks over to my company; having arrived at our location, he personally confirmed our objective. The composite company continued the advance. While engaging the retreating enemy, the tanks, together with a battalion of tommy-gunners, reached a fork in the high road about 6 kilometres from the town of Gaja, where we encountered frustrating resistance from enemy tanks and artillery. A stubborn and intense battle ensued, lasting for about two hours.
We slowly ground our way through the enemy defences, before they finally wavered and began to retreat. Sensing the appropriate moment, I surged ahead of the rest. Kolya Maximov joined me, and then the whole composite company followed us. Some of the German and Hungarian units began to surrender. Soon our tanks reached the fork and our task of the day was complete. This junction of high roads leading north and north-west from Arad was tactically important: its capture meant that the lines of retreat for the enemy had been cut off. The enemy had incurred significant losses that day, although the composite company had lost three tanks as well.
Our battalion and the tommy-gunners’ battalion set up a defensive position around us. We had only very few operational tanks left, and no reinforcements were anticipated. A cool autumn night was descending. The tankmen, tommy-gunners and artillery guys were entrenching and fortifying their positions. A brigade communications officer, Sasha Chashegorov, came to the defensive position and conveyed the order: ‘Combats and Bryukhov to report to the brigade HQ urgently.’
We headed to the HQ, which was stationed near Gaja at a picturesque farm; our tanks rolling up to the combrig’s van at high speed. All the staff officers and unit commanders had already congregated there. Colonel Chunikhin ordered the maps to be brought out and immediately set about assigning tasks: ‘Tonight we will secretly disengage the enemy and change direction to advance towards Battonya, Mako and Hodmezovasarhely. The vanguard, consisting of tanks from the 1st Tank Battalion, reinforced by an artillery battalion with an infantry company on the armour, is to be sent ahead. I assign Bryukhov as the commander of the vanguard detachment.’
‘Yes, sir!’ I immediately replied.
‘Your task,’ the combrig went on, ‘is to cross the state border between Romania and Hungary without engaging in any protracted fighting and to liberate Battonya. You are to begin the liberation of Hungary, and to ensure the brigade’s advance towards Mako.’
That night the vanguard detachment mustered in a small grove. The machines and troops were restocked and replenished, and at about 2.00 a.m. on the 23rd we began to move out towards the Hungarian border. We moved cautiously along dirt roads, using all the tricks of stealth and camouflage that we knew. The silence of the night was disturbed only by the din of engines and the clanking of tracks. At dawn we came out onto a better-maintained earth road leading to the border. Shivering with the morning chill, peering into the distance, the tank commanders sat on the turrets; the tommy-gunners warmed themselves up on the transmissions. We stopped, examining the countryside in front of us closely. A tilted border post, fragments of barbed wire and a collapsed gate in the road told us that we were at the state border between Romania and Hungary. A narrow country road led on to Battonya.
Either side of the road, alternating with groves, there were fields of unharvested ripened corn, with the occasional squalid farmstead hut buried under vegetation here and there. It was unusually quiet – it seemed as if there was no war at all. But we hadn’t travelled more than half a kilometre before this silence was broken by the deep rumbling of artillery mortar shell explosions and the crackling of machine-gun fire. This was Maximov’s platoon, which had come across the enemy, deployed and attacked them. A short, rapid and ferocious battle broke out. The enemy strongpoint was destroyed and our vanguard continued to move along the road towards Battonya. A ‘Rama’47 appeared in the sky. Having circled over the vanguard, it settled on its return course – it was a certain sign that we would not have to wait long for more enemy aircraft. The vanguard had no anti-aircraft arms.
Near a farmstead just before Battonya I ordered the company to scatter and camouflage the tanks; the radio-operators were ordered to dismantle the front machine guns and get ready to repulse an aerial attack together with the tommy-gunners. We disguised the tanks with bundles of cut wheat, and soon enough Messerschmitts came over. They failed to spot the tanks initially, but then, flying very low and following the contours of the terrain, they saw through our unsophisticated disguise. My tank was the nearest to the road and they attacked it first. One shell hit the transmission compartment, and the tank caught fire. We leapt out and dropped flat in the roadside ditch. Soon the ammo stock detonated, tearing off the turret from the ring. The upper section soared high, straight above me. I crawled frantically along the ditch, thinking with horror that it was going to fall on me, but it hit the ground 20 metres away.
Having exhausted their ammunition, the planes flew away. We decided not to wait around for another raid and took off. I took control of another tank and ordered Alexashin’s platoon to continue along the road, diverting the enemy’s attention, and the two other platoons advanced to the left and right of it. Suddenly we came up against a deep ditch, apparently dug for field irrigation. The company got bogged down and the tanks stopped. At this point, the enemy opened strong artillery fire, directed from a church bell tower in the centre of Battonya. Under these perilous conditions, I ordered everyone to turn their turrets backwards and find suitable places to cross the ditch as quickly as possible. Being the first to cross the ditch, I pushed forward, shooting from the main gun and the machine guns. Other tanks followed me; the attack was resumed, and when a lucky shot brought the bell tower spotter down the artillery fire was considerably weakened. Manoeuvring behind and around the houses, we managed to reach the centre of the city. The enemy began to withdraw, hiding in the houses as they went. Our tommy-gunners cleared the buildings and streets, and by 12.30 p.m. the town of Battonya was liberated.
The vanguard went out to the north-western outskirts of the town, where it set up a defensive position. Thus the first Hungarian town was liberated. The first battle on Hungarian soil turned out to be exceptionally dogged and fierce. The enemy didn’t want to accept the loss of Battonya. They brought up reserves and attacked many times, throwing tanks and infantry into action supported by aircraft and artillery, but our vanguard managed to stand fast, fending off all counterstrikes.
By the end of the day the enemy pulled back, having lost nine tanks (four of which I accounted for), seven anti-tank guns and thirteen mortars; they also left behind two ammunition depots. Our losses consisted of four tanks with all crewmen. Colonel Chunikhin congratulated me via radio on the crossing of the Hungarian state border, thanking me for the completion of the objective, and ordered me to consolidate where we were.
Fuel and ammo were brought up, and when the field kitchen arrived the men were glad to eat and then get some rest. At this time we also buried our fallen comrades. That night was quiet. The locals, frightened by the Fascist propaganda, were afraid to come out onto the streets and stayed hiding in their homes and cellars. By the morning, though, they grew bolder – curious children were the first to turn out, and young women followed them.