Men of the Air Balloon unit on the Karelian Isthmus, winter 1939-1940. Picture cordially provided by Vadim Gasanov
Colonel (Retired) Lieutenant during the Winter War, chief of forward observers, 4th Artillery battalion, 168 Super Heavy Artillery Regiment (203 mm howitzer-guns)
Winter War started for me two months after my graduation from Odessa Artillery Academy in September 1939. This was one of the best academies of the country, training highly expert artillery officers for service in heavy and super heavy artillery regiments (203 mm, 280 mm and heavier calibers). We, the ones who graduated from the academy, could quickly and precisely prepare and calculate fire mission data in field conditions in several ways (up to six methods of calculation), including analytic method with calculation of all the corrections and adjustments (wind, air temperature, temperature of the grenade, grenade weight deviation and other, even an adjustment for rotation of the Earth).
Teachers in the academy were mostly honest and highly trained, former officers of the Royal Russian Army. They tried to teach us not only artillery science, but also traditions of the Russian Officers' Corps - honesty, unanimous obedience to the superiors, accuracy in following orders, preciseness in work, politeness, fitness, cleanliness and tidiness in uniforms, quick analysis of the environment and good decision-making.
We the graduates of the academy could very well read the map, could quickly build our own maps, carry out forward observation and fire adjustment, write battle reports and draw maps of battle areas. This was the training that I as a young Lieutenant had with me when I arrived at the 168th Super Heavy Artillery Regiment. We were over 20 men who arrived at the regiment at the same time from the academy. The 168th Super Heavy Artillery Regiment was stationed in Western Ukraine in Chertkov and had four artillery battalions. On arrival to the Regiment I was appointed the chief of forward observation team, 4th battalion; battalion commander was Captain Semen Savelievich Maltsev - a smart, caring, just and demanding commander.
As the war broke out, the Regiment received an order to move to the front. The regiment was moving to the front battalion by battalion, each battalion occupying two cargo trains. On the way to the front the battalion made long stops, for receiving extra materiel - mostly, warm clothes, padded jackets, padded pants, felt boots, helmets, helmet liners, and sheepskin coats for the officers. During the journey there was special artillery training of the personnel and political classes. The discipline was very tight - everyone knew that we were going into the war. Out 4th battalion only arrived at the station of disembarking in late December and was attached to the 90th Rifle Division, 90th Rifle Corps. Our entire Regiment was distributed among rifle units, each battalion was attached to a rifle division.
The 4th Battalion unloaded the train at Perkjarvi station and occupied firing positions at Perkjarvi lake area in 24 hours. The firing positions were in some 10 kilometers from the frontline. The battalion's mission was to establish contact with all artillery units in the area of responsibility of the 90th Rifle DIvision, and jointly with them carry out reconnaissance of the concrete bunkers. Only when we knew that we dealt with a concrete bunker, not a bunker built of wood and soil, we started to destroy it. The anti-concrete shells could only be used with permission of the higher artillery officers (we were sparing those shells for destruction of concrete bunkers of the Mannerheim Line).
Battery commanders of our battalion - Senior Lieutenant Grinev, 10th battery, Captain Shevchuk, 11th battery, Senior LIeutenant Sereda, 12th battery with their forward observers and I with my forward observer and a phone operator went tot he forward observation posts of the batteries of smaller caliber, and jointly with them we were carrying out reconnaissance of Finnish gun weapons emplacements. The enemy's positions were very strongly camouflaged and the enemy did not fire. MG nests were so well camouflaged that it was merely impossible to find out, what it was - a hillock or a camouflaged MG or gun position. One had to wait for the artillery of smaller calibers to open up the soil surface of the hillock. The enemy delivered strong and precise mortar strikes, while it only opened intensive machine-gun fire from the MG nests and trenches when our infantry units tried to carry out reconnaissance in force, that was, were imitating an all-out offensive. Each time our infantry suffered high losses, although our artillery fired intensively, trying to suppress the enemy's MG's. We, forward observers, were spotting enemy's MG emplacements during the assaults and later opened them up with precise shooting from our cannons.
Infantry used a lot of armored shields on skies, but from what I saw, they did not bring any use. The infantry advanced under protection of the shields to the assault area, which was in some 200 meters from our trenches. The shield was heavy, it was hard to push it, and the main problem was that one could not see a thing! There was a gunport for observation and firing a rifle, but infantrymen still had to stick their head out, in order to find the direction. It was very convenient for the Finnish riflemen to aim at the top edge of the shield, and as soon someone's head appeared from behind the shield, - pam, that was it. So, even when infantry used the shields, they would often all be wiped out before they could reach the line of assault.
I don't know about the other rifle units, but the 90th Rifle Division had an interesting routine - before an infantry assault, the battalion commander would come to me and request me to give him a written paper that would state that there were no concrete bunkers in his area of responsibility, otherwise he would cancel the assault. I had to take risks and issue such certificate every time, thinking, what would happen, if we missed some bunker, and then... I would be summoned to the Special Department of NKVD and so on. So I was quite nervous every time when I had to write such a paper.
In this respect I am recalling a funny and sad episode: after yet another unsuccessful assault by our infantry, the rifle battalion commander came to me with the "absence of bunkers" paper that I had written the day before and pointed me a "concrete bunker" on the terrain. We had to ask for a permission to use concrete-piercing shells in order to destroy the bunker. Senior Lieutenant Grinev was ordered to complete this fire mission. Senior Lieutenant Grinev was known for his quick mind and originality in our battalion. He also demonstrate this during the fire mission. As soon as we had arrived at the front, he made a deal with a 122 mm gun battery commander that he would adjust fire from the observation post of the 122 mm battery, and would only build phone connection between his battery and the 122 mm battery, using the same phone operator. By doing this he saved about 5 km of field phone cable, as 122 mm battery positions were some 5 km closer to the front than our firing positions.
Both battery commanders - Grinev and the 122 mm battery commander were firing on the enemy, the 122 mm battery with high explosive shells, while Grinev with 203 mm concrete-piercing. After Grinev fired three concrete-piercing shells, Grinev's phone operator confused the fire orders and told the 203 mm battery "2 high explosive grenades, quick fire", although this order was for the 122 mm battery. The officers at the firing positions of the 203 howitzers doubted the correctness of the command and asked for confirmation. The phone operator confirmed the wrong order, and two 203 mm high-explosive shells that were much heavier than the concrete piercing ones, flew towards the enemy at the same sight settings. Flying some 600 meters short of the target, they hit the CP of our battalion. Doors of the CP dugout flew away, soil tilted, in some 20 meters from the dugout there were two huge shell craters, but there were no casualties. Grinev first tried to defend himself, trying to put Finns to blame, but then he had to acknowledge his mistake and was scolded for that. He was also ordered to build a phone line independent from that of the 122 mm battery.
Fire strike with concrete-piercing shells on the "concrete bunker" demonstrated, that it was a strong wood and soil bunker, covered with a thick layer of stones on top.
Offensive of the rifle units at our sector of the front was stopped for more than a month. During the grand offensive in February the 90th Rifle Division also failed to break enemy's defenses. There were three assaults but they failed. Infantry suffered losses, the tanks in our sector were light and were of no use. Thus, we stayed at our firing positions till February 16, 1940. We, forward observers, were carrying out thorough reconnaissance of the enemy's weapon emplacements. The battles that followed demonstrated that there were no concrete bunkers in the area of responsibility of the 90th Rifle Division, just strong wood and soil bunkers, deep trenches with invisible for us MG nests. These MG's fired every time when our infantry assaulted. Numerous assaults of our units to break the defenses came to nothing, despite extremely strong artillery fire before the offensive. Each time the assaulting units had to retreat back, leaving many dead and wounded on the battlefield. This lasted till February 11, when the 123rd Rifle Division broke through the Mannerheim Line on our left flank and we started a slow advance towards Vyborg.
The enemy was always delivering precise mortar fire on our observation posts and firing positions that were close to the front line. Infantry losses from such strikes were high, and mostly because our infantry was lazy to dig in. They would build one meter high wooden cabins and cover it with logs some 10 sm thick. As soon as a strike started, infantry would dive into those shelters and stick in them like herrings in a jar. One time this was exactly what happened - mortar fire started, everyone ducked for cover in all possible paces. I strictly forbade my forward observers to hide in these shelters, and we all lied down in the shell craters. The infantrymen, in turn, were still squeezing into the shelters. There were about 20 men stuffed into one such shelter. Finns had good artillery observers, they could very well see what and where was happening at our positions. A mortar mine hit this shelter right in the middle. That was the end. The shelter was destroyed, all men inside were killed. To be short, it was one big lump of human flesh. So the infantry of the 90th Rifle Division could blame themselves for such high losses.
In mid-January 1940 we noticed, that the enemy was firing at our positions not only with mortars, but also with heavy artillery. We were given a task of spotting that battery. But that task was extremely difficult. Dense forest did not allow spotting the heavy enemy's battery (we estimated it being at least 155 mm). The sound intelligence units gave us only the direction from which the fire of that battery came, and deviation was high. They could not provide any good estimate for distance to the battery.
The artillery staff of the 19th Rifle Corps made a decision - a forward artillery observer was to go into the air on a balloon, try to spot the battery and adjust the fire of our battery in order to at least suppress the battery. The commander of the 4th battalion gave this mission to me.
The enemy's battery was firing at our positions, as a rule from 10 am to noon every day. So we chose a clear frosty day with weak wind towards our rear (for the case if the rope holding the balloon was torn). That was the day of January 30, 1940. At the appointed time I arrived at the balloon position, taking all fire mission tables, a good map and two radio and phone operators. The position was in some 500-600 meters from the observation posts of our troops. As we arrived at the balloon position, we established communication with the firing position of the 12th battery. After that the balloon platoon leader reported that the balloon was ready for takeoff and explained to me, what had to be done, if the balloon's rope was torn and the balloon would fly in the air freely (I was supposed to slowly release gas from the balloon and safely land in our rear). The balloon was from some air balloon unit of the 19th Rifle Corps, I did not know them.
Men of the Air Balloon unit on the Karelian Isthmus, winter 1939-1940. Picture cordially provided by Vadim Gasanov |
The air balloon was fitted to a crane by long steel rope, while the crane was fitted to the truck. The crane was operated manually and allowed lifting the air balloon to 1000 meters. The air balloon was small and could only carry two men, so I took phone operator Zhbankin, who had previously served with the Navy and was not afraid of shaking. We had to give up the radio, as we knew that the enemy would immediately intercept our radio conversations and open fire on the spots that it calculated. We established reliable phone communication between the basket of the balloon and the truck and further to the staff of our battalion and the firing positions of the 12th battery.
We were lifted to 600 meters altitude, there was a weak wind, visibility was perfect and I was informed that the enemy's battery is firing. I stack to the binoculars. I could clearly see the railway and Leipasuo station buildings. On the map I identified the direction of fire for our 12th battery and transmitted the data to the firing positions. It turned out that the range of turing mechanism of the 203 mm howitzer was not enough to fire in that direction and they had to turn the carriage of the howitzer, which would take them 20 minutes. This is why battalion commander made a decision to fire with just one howitzer.
Observing the terrain, I suddenly spotted two muzzle flashes and smoke from 2 guns of the enemy's battery and quickly put them on the map. The battery was in the forest in some 1.5 kilometers from Leipasuo station to the south and in some 200-300 meters to the right from the railway. (These were guns from the 3rd artillery battalion, 1st Field Artillery regiment - Bair Irincheev)
While they were preparing the howitzer for fire, I prepared fire mission data on the map for high-explosive grenades with all adjustments that were there in the table. I transmitted all the data to battalion commander S. S. Maltsev and received a permission for opening fire from him.
Having transmitted the order "on the enemy's battery, fire!" I was very excited and waited for "shot" command, which would mean that the howitzer fired the grenade at my calculations. I was glued to the binoculars and was searching for the explosion of our grenade. This was my baptism of fire in the war, not just fire range practice. I did not notice the explosion of the first grenade, as there was tall forest around, but with my guts I felt that the grenade fell somewhere near the target. I decreased the range by 200 meters and changed the direction to the right by some 10 grades of the direction ring and ordered to fire the second grenade. I was extremely happy when I saw the explosion precisely in the plane of shooting a bit over the target. I adjusted the range and after the shot saw the explosion short of target, I joyfully reported to the battalion commander that the target was in the "fork" and started adjusting the fire according to the classical method - adjusting after observation of the explosions. After the fourth grenade, after final adjustments, I started destruction of target, as I saw grenades exploding right at the target. To make sure, we fire two more grenades - total of eight grenades. The enemy's battery was suppressed, and probably knocked out, as they did not fire at our positions or CPs after that. I received and gratitude from the Chief of Artillery of the 19th Rifle Corps Colonel Kaznov and for my participation in the Winter War I was awarded with Medal for Bravery.
From the battle diary of the 9th Battery, 1st Fild Artillery Regiment:
30.01.1940. 10.15. Strong artillery fire against our whole sector, mostly to our right.
12.00 Direction measurer Junior Sergeant of reserve P. Paukkonen was wounded by a grenade
explosion and soon after him Distance measurer Junior Sergeant of reserve M. Hakkinen, both seriously.
Hakkinen died at JSP (first aid post) and Paukkonen at the PSP (battalion aid post) the same day. Both of them ended up under grenade fire when they were measuring direction
and distance to the Ruskie's observation baloon.
Phone connection is established with the air balloon crew. Picture cordially provided by Vadim Gassanov |
Speaking about our activities after the breakthrough of the Mannerheim Line, we did not fire much, just marching behind the advancing infantry. Grinev, our smart boy, made himself special in that case too. He caught a cow somewhere and milked the cow all the time. When we were changing the positions, the Grinev battery looked like that: first a truck, then a tractor with a carriage of the first howitzer, then the tractor with the barrel of the first howitzer, then the tractors with the second carriage and the second howitzer. The cow was tied to the barrel of the second howitzer. Quite a view. He butchered the cow for meat later on.
Another funny episode happened in the very end of the Winter War. At the end of the war our 4th battalion of the 168th Super Heavy Artillery Regiment was stationed north from Pilppula station. The batteries did not fire, as there were no targets for our guns. Everything was quiet, neither we nor the enemy were active, at least, we thought so in the rear. In the morning on March 13, 1940 we received an order - spend all ammo that is there at one's disposal, fire concrete-piercing shells at maximum range (24 kilometers) even without seeing the targets, and at noon cease firing from all weapons. Of course we all realized that this was the END of the war. At 10.00 on March 13 horrible artillery fire opened on entire Karelian Isthmus, which merged into a single thunderstorm – each artillery officer was trying to spend all ammo that was there at the firing positions, so that he would not need to carry it around.
Our smart boy, Senior Lieutenant Grinev, commander of the 10th battery, walked up to me and told me: "during this war my shot will be the last." I thought: "why on earth his shot will be the last?" Noon came, it grew dead silent everywhere, everyone was congratulating each other with the end of the war. At 12.15 Grinev reported to the battalion HQ that one howitzer of his battery is still loaded, as the fire platoon leader lilngered and did not make it to fire before noon. He was scared of firing it after noon, and only reported this at 12.05. According to the manuals, the 203 mm howitzer should never be unloaded with an open lock. One was not supposed to travel around with a loaded howitzer either, it could only be unloaded by firing. The battalion commander was in a tricky situation, he could not make such a responsible decision himself - an armistice would be broken. We had to report to the superior, and after long considerations and strong curses they sent an order - turn the howitzer towards our rear, find a lake and fire at the ice of the lake, thus discharging the grenade from the barrel. That was the end of the war for us, everyone was happy and no one was punished for this episode, and after that Grinev boasted to the others that his shot at the Winter War on entire Isthmus was the last one.
203 mm howitzers gave us no problems in service during cold weather. Gun locks were covered with special grease made of lamb fat, and they opened and closed perfectly, insulating the fire chamber very well. All mechanisms of the howitzers were also covered in special grease, which perfectly well worked in cold temperatures. We did not dig any trenches for the howitzers, just fitted them to the ground. OUr battalion positions were in some 5 kilometers northwest from Perkjarvi station. WE tried to locate the howitzers so that they would not stand there in the open - Finnish airplanes rarely, but still appeared overhead. In fact, if Finns broke through, we would not make it to change the positions - we needed 30 minutes to prepare for march.
Our battalion was very well equipped - sheepskin coats, felt boots, padded jackets and pants, woolen gimnastyorkas warm underwear, warm foot wrappings, a woolen helmet liner that would only leave the eyes and nose exposed to the elements. Catering was excellent - we had 100 grams of vodka every day, lard and other things. The main difficulty was building dugouts after changing positions, it was extremelly hard to dig in in frozen soil. Some men did not care to dig the dugouts and slept in the snow. During entire war our battalion did not suffer a single casualty as our firing positions were deep in our rear. Several forward observers, however, had frostbites after they had to lie in a trench or a crater on no-man's land in snow and were pinned down by Finnish fire for a whole day.
I was quite lucky in that war. One time I was walking to the frontline, and I met a soldier walking toward me. We stopped, and he started telling me about the Finnish positions and MG nests, and a mine exploded next to us. The soldier was killed on the spot, while I was left standing the way I had been before. The second incident that took place in my eyes - a soldier was going to the front in horse-drawn sleds, and a mine exploded next to the sleds. The air pressure just took the hide off the horse and it hand on the nearest tree. The soldier in the sled survived.
After the Winter War I took part in the Great Patriotic War, in which I was commander of the 280 mm super heavy battery. In 1941 and 1942 my battery did not take part in any battles, it was more important to preserve the precious equipment during the retreat of our troops. After that I was appointed the 152 mm battalion commander and was supposed to go to the Kursk salient, but instead of that they sent me for training to Moscow Artillery Academy. During the Victory Parade, in which I took part on behalf of the Academy, I met the officers from the artillery regiment to which I was supposed to go to in 1943. I envied them a lot - they had tons of war decorations. After completion of the Academy in 1948 I have been teaching up to 1974 as a Senior teacher in different academies and officer courses. During the last 14 years of my career I was teaching in the Academy. In 1974 I retired and worked in the Academy for 10 more years as a Senior computer engineer. Now I have enough time to watch the reforms in our armed forces and indulge in memories and considerations.
Published with permission of the author. © Bair Irincheev 2001 - 2003
