Hero of the Soviet Union Grishin Ivan Alexandrovich
Ivan Alexandrovich Grishin was born in 1918 in the village of Vasilyevka, Alamudun District, Kyrgyz SSR, into a peasant family. Russian. Member of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. Before being drafted into the army, he worked as a livestock technician in the Frunze collective farm. He served in the Soviet Army since 1938. Guards Captain. Commander of a machine gun company.
During the Great Patriotic War, he participated in battles on the North Caucasian, Southwestern, 3rd Ukrainian, and 1st Belorussian fronts.
On May 31, 1945, for his displayed courage and heroism in battles while crossing the Spree River, he was awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union.
In fierce battles with the enemy, the brave warrior was wounded twice but returned to duty. The Motherland highly appreciated the merits of I. A. Grishin, awarding him the Orders of the Red Star, the Red Banner, and the Patriotic War II class.
After the end of the Great Patriotic War, the Hero continued his service in the Soviet Army. After retiring in 1960 with the rank of Major, he worked in production. He now lives in the city of Frunze.
LAST BATTLES
Leaning against the log wall of the dugout, Captain Grishin spread a map on a small table and pulled the kerosene lamp closer. For the umpteenth time, he was reading unfamiliar names, trying to mentally picture the streets, houses, and roads that were still there, beyond the front line. And here was Berlin, so close on the map. Just sixty kilometers, an hour's drive. The last sixty kilometers of war. For how many more will they be the last?
An hour ago at the meeting in the regiment's headquarters, they were informed that an order had been received to advance on Berlin.
— We have eight hours left,— said the regiment commander to those gathered. — So check the readiness of the personnel once again. This is the final operation. Now to Berlin without stopping...
Returning to the battalion's position, Grishin gathered the company commanders.
— Well, we’ve waited long enough,— he announced somewhat ceremoniously. — Tomorrow morning we will begin. And now everyone should rest. Yes, one more thing I want to say,— he stopped the officers who were already leaving the dugout,— take care of the men. It would be a shame not to live to see Victory for just a few days...
Sleep had completely vanished. Memories of pre-war years swarmed in his head, now so distant, peaceful.
“At home, spring work is probably in full swing,— thought Grishin, imagining a small house in his native Vasilyevka, standing on the banks of the Chu River. — The apple trees are in bloom, and it’s already quite warm.”
He stepped out of the dugout. An unusual silence hung in the air. Only with a faint hiss did flares rise above the enemy's defensive line. The front was frozen for several hours.
For the final decisive push on Berlin, over 2,500 Soviet soldiers, 41,600 guns and mortars, 6,250 tanks and self-propelled artillery units, and 7,500 combat aircraft were ready.
This enormous strike force was to crush three lines of defense created by the Hitler command on the approaches to Berlin, overcome a series of water obstacles, and engage in street fighting in unfamiliar settlements.
The task of directly capturing Berlin was assigned to the 1st Belorussian Front, which included Captain Grishin's rifle battalion...
— Comrade Captain, Comrade Captain,— Grishin felt someone touch his shoulder,— you asked to be woken up.
A sergeant stood before him. His broad, tall figure felt cramped under the low ceiling of the dugout, and he slightly bent down, adjusting the helmet that was slipping over his eyes.
— I wasn’t even asleep. — Grishin raised his head, then stood up, stretching his stiff knee. Together with the sergeant, they exited the dugout. The hands of the glowing clock showed around five in the morning.
— Remember, sergeant, April 16. Later, you’ll tell your grandchildren how you took Berlin... — Grishin didn’t finish, as behind him the roar of many thousands of artillery pieces erupted. Hundreds of tons of deadly metal, piercing the night gloom, fell upon the enemy's defensive lines.
Grishin had never seen such an artillery preparation throughout the war. The ground trembled beneath his feet, and the explosions rang in his ears.
In the sky, hundreds of engines of night bombers buzzed, heading west in several columns.
And suddenly, very close by, like a sharpened blade, a vertical beam of a searchlight pierced the darkness.
— Here’s the signal! Pass it down the line: “Prepare for the attack!”
Grishin took out his pistol. But then he changed his mind and shoved it back into the holster.
— Sergeant, give me an automatic; it will be easier to handle.
The artillery fell silent all at once, and at that moment, a dazzling light from searchlights flared up behind the battalion, directed towards the enemy fortifications.
— Forward! For the Motherland! To Berlin! — shouted Grishin and leaped out of the trench.
Tanks were already moving ahead.
Now only forward, not letting the enemy recover,” — the captain thought feverishly, stepping onto his long shadow that flew ahead. To his right and left, he heard the breath of the soldiers running alongside him.
Ahead, in the light of the searchlights, several figures rose, shielding their eyes from the blinding light. The captain, without stopping, fired a long burst from his automatic weapon... The first line of enemy trenches was already behind, and then the second.
The Germans, still recovering from the artillery shelling and bombing, offered little resistance.
The beams of the searchlights picked out from the darkness the shattered caps of pillboxes, twisted equipment, and shone on burning tanks and barbed wire obstacles.
— Forward! — the captain urged his soldiers with a hoarse voice. — Don’t fall behind the tanks!..
By seven in the morning, the 1st Belorussian Front had managed to crush the first line of enemy defenses almost along its entire front line.
Ahead, in the fire of the burning buildings, the Seelow Heights stood in the path of the advancing troops. This was the front line of the second enemy defense line. The enemy had significant advantages here. From the heights, the entire area up to the Oder River was well visible. The steep slopes of the heights, difficult to access not only for tanks but also for infantry, were covered with a dense network of trenches and dugouts, where the enemy had placed permanent firing points. The anti-tank ditch reached a depth of 3 meters. Approaches to the heights were swept by multilayered crossfire from artillery and machine guns. Even individual buildings were adapted by the enemy for defense and turned into strongholds. On the roads, the Germans set up barriers made of logs and metal beams, and mined the approaches to them.
Here, at the Seelow Heights, fierce bloody battles unfolded.
— Look, the enemies have set up a solid defense,— Grishin muttered through clenched teeth, observing the enemy's defensive line through binoculars.
— Comrade Captain, let me bandage you. Your whole sleeve is covered in blood,— he heard the voice of a nurse who had appeared out of nowhere, and only now felt the pain in his arm.
— Well, since there’s time, go ahead and bandage it...
The second attack yielded no results. Grishin gritted his teeth as he watched his soldiers fall, cut down by machine-gun fire. In the middle of the day, our bombers flew over the heights again, and the trenches were hit by heavy mortar fire.
— Look, Comrade Captain,— the sergeant pointed to one of the planes that had separated from the main group and flew over the combat formations of our troops. Four dots separated from it, turning into small parachutes.
One of them landed about five to ten meters away from them.
— Hey, sergeant, what kind of gifts do we have from the pilots?
Inside the box was a large key with a note attached to it.
The sergeant read aloud: “Dear Guardsmen, forward — to Victory! We send you the key to the Berlin gates...”
— I saw exactly the same one in the museum,— Grishin explained,— Russian troops captured it during the Seven Years' War.
— So, these keys are tried and true; they will fit right away,— someone joked, and everyone laughed together.
The call from the combat comrades-pilots immediately spread among the advancing troops and inspired the guardsmen immensely.
Only late in the evening of April 17 did the Soviet troops capture the enemy's defensive line at the Seelow Heights...
At the end of April, Captain Grishin's battalion, having captured several settlements on the outskirts of Berlin, reached the Spree River. It was April 28. From the north and south, our troops had broken into the outskirts of Berlin and were engaged in street fighting.
The regiment commander Chernyavsky ordered Grishin's battalion to be the first to cross the Spree and establish a foothold on the left bank of the river.
At night, Grishin sent out scouts.
— Scout the approaches to the river and find a suitable place for crossing,— he ordered them.
An hour later, they returned.
— Comrade Captain,— reported the group leader,— there are about twenty boats nearby on the shore, a whole boat station. And the opposite bank is just a stone's throw away. You can't find a better place for crossing.
In two hours, everything was ready for crossing the river.
Carefully lowering the boats into the water, the soldiers loaded them with weapons and ammunition. In complete darkness, they moved away from the shore.
On the opposite bank, silhouettes of destroyed buildings loomed. They were close now. And then, from a four-story building, automatic and machine-gun fire struck at the boats. But it was already too late. Getting caught on the edge of the shore, our soldiers responded with a volley of automatic fire. Grenades flew into the windows of the first floor.
— Forward! — the fighters heard their commander’s voice rising above the noise of battle, urging them to attack.
Realizing the futility of resistance, the enemy soldiers ceased fire and, waving a white flag, came out with their hands raised to surrender.
The battle continued. The enemy artillery opened fire on the tiny foothold. Tanks were advancing on Grishin's battalion.
The commander ordered to take up circular defense. One attack followed another, but the guardsmen did not flinch.
— Comrade Captain, the regiment commander is on the line. He’s asking for you,— the radio operator handed the phone to Grishin.
— Everything is fine, Comrade Colonel,— the captain reported. Just a little more “firepower” would help.
— We’ll take care of that!
In a few minutes, the artillery covered the square where the fascists were gathering forces for another attack.
By the next morning, the enemy's resistance was finally broken. Under cover of a smoke screen, the main forces of the 39th Division began to cross to the left bank.
On the same day, Grishin's battalion entered Berlin. Three days later, the Banner of Victory was raised over the Reichstag.
For his displayed courage and heroism in the battles for Berlin, Ivan Alexandrovich Grishin was awarded the title of Hero of the Soviet Union by the decree of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet of the USSR on May 31, 1945.
...A man walks down the street. Time has silvered his temples and etched his face with a network of wrinkles. But just like forty years ago, in those April days of forty-five, a glimmer of spring shines in his eyes, a reflection of the great feat of our people.
A man walks down the street. A soldier of the Great Patriotic War. A hero of the last war.
V. CHERNYSHOV