1986: Tank on the West Berlin-Hannover highway
The photo is illustrative and has no direct relation to the narrative.
General Chechevatov on the line
At the rear command post of the 47th Guards tank In the autumn of 1986, a phone rang in the headquarters car of Lieutenant Colonel Fedorov of the Lower Dnieper Red Banner Order of Bohdan Khmelnitsky Division. Late that autumn evening, in the midst of command and staff exercises, General Viktor Chechevatov, commander of the 3rd Combined Arms Army in the Group of Soviet Forces in Germany, called the deputy commander of the division for technical matters. The connection was through classified equipment, so the army commander spoke slowly and clearly:
"Fedorov. This is Chechevatov. A tank fell off a bridge on the West Berlin-Hannover highway. Your task is to remove this tank before intensive traffic begins. Report personally on completion."
It was about ten o'clock in the evening. The repair battalion did not participate in the exercises. It remained in Hillersleben, the division's permanent base. Deputy Technician Fyodor Fyodorov organized the dispatch of three BTS-4s from the repair battalion to the point where the combat vehicle had fallen and headed there himself. There were no details at that time - neither the number of casualties, nor the extent of the damage to the tank and the road surface, nor the nature of the accident. The main thing was to get the combat vehicle off the autobahn before dawn.
The photo is illustrative and has no direct relation to the narrative.
We got to the accident site around midnight. The road bridge crossed a four-lane highway at a right angle, was cordoned off by GDR police and illuminated with flashing beacons. A T-64 that had fallen off the bridge lay on the asphalt across the highway, tracks up. The crew was alive and well and living nearby in a state of mild shock.
It should be noted that the tank was not simple. Each tank army in the GSVG had a separate tank regiment, or, in common parlance, a "suicide regiment." According to the organization chart, the regiment had more tanks than usual, but there was no repair company. There were no tractors. They were not needed. The regiment, which was on constant combat duty, was tasked with moving to a pre-designated line on alert and meeting advancing NATO troops. The tankers had to buy time for the full deployment of the rest of the army units. Of course, the regiment had little chance of survival.
During the described command and staff exercises in the autumn of 1986, the tank regiment of the 3rd Army was raised on alert by Army General Pyotr Lushev, commander of the GSVG. The "sixty-four" lying with its tracks up across the highway was precisely from this special regiment. Of course, the tank had a full complement of ammunition.
Changeling
The first thing they did was to unload the ammunition through the evacuation hatch in the bottom of the tank. This was the most dangerous part of the operation. It was not entirely clear what condition the automatic loading mechanism, shells, and warheads were in. It could have exploded all over the area, and then the whole world would have heard about the disaster. For now, it was an accident. Considering the height of the overpass of the German bridge, the crew was incredibly lucky. The T-64 weighed about forty tons and was not equipped with seat belts or airbags. Nevertheless, Lieutenant Colonel Fedorov did not find any critical injuries on any of the crew members. Everyone had bruises, and one even limped a little.
The tank was moving late at night in a column of combat vehicles raised on alert, and the driver-mechanic simply fell asleep at the controls. There was no doubt that the commander and gunner had been asleep from the very beginning. This saved the soldiers, mitigating the consequences of falling down with the turret. In about the same way, well-drunk heroes who fell from the second or third floor are limited to abrasions and bruises. In similar conditions, a sober citizen risks breaking his bones badly. Be that as it may, the crew and the repairmen who arrived took out the T-64's ammunition and piled it on the roadside lawn in about a couple of hours.
The tank was moving in the column with its gun facing the opposite direction, and when it fell off the bridge, it played a cruel joke on it. More precisely, not on it, but on a local burgher in a Trabant. Driving under the overpass at speed, the driver saw the forty-ton colossus collapse in front of him and managed to turn the steering wheel towards the rear of the tank. This is understandable - no one is ready to run into a 125-mm steel pipe. But the turret was turned, the Trabant crashed into the gun, and the driver broke both legs. By the time the deputy commander of the technical department and the evacuation group from Hillersleben arrived, the unfortunate man had already been taken to the hospital.
Imagine a German autobahn in the 80s: clean, trimmed, with perfect ditches. Flowers, lawns, strict order. And here three tracked tractors are crawling along it to turn over a dented T-XNUMX. The events that unfolded that night could have caused a heart attack in a German citizen. While the three tractors were making their way to the overturned vehicle, they managed to plow the local beauty quite a bit.
The first tractor hooked a cable to the farthest track (or balance beam) of the T-64 and pulled. The task was to turn the tank over. It didn't work - the BTS-4 helplessly rotated its tracks. The second tractor went to help, but it got stuck in a ditch. They decided not to risk the third one and sent it to the first one along an alternative route. I can't remember which one exactly, but the vehicle successfully passed the wet areas of the soil and got into the hitch. But it didn't help - the tank remained lying with its turret down. The Germans are rushing around. There are a couple of hours left before the morning traffic. The highway between West Berlin and Hanover is of international importance with all the ensuing consequences.
The photo is illustrative and has no direct relation to the narrative.
After some thought, Lieutenant Colonel Fedorov decided to use a tractor stuck nearby as an anchor. They hooked it to the tractor coupling with the T-64 via a pulley block and began to pull again. The upside-down vehicle began to slowly rise… The tank crashed with a deafening roar, and it seemed that half the job was done. Those present noticed how much the tank’s turret, which had incomparably greater rigidity, dented the hull of the combat vehicle. After landing, the T-10 became 15-XNUMX cm lower, no less. Later, the tank was sent for major repairs and after some time returned to service.
While the T-64 was being turned over, it managed to land with its tracks on the cable, which seriously complicated the evacuation. The tractor-anchor was unhooked, the remaining pair got closer and pulled the cable out at full speed. With noise and sparks from under the tracks.
The epic continued. It was wisely decided not to start the tank - no one would vouch for the technical serviceability of the power plant. Moreover, the dent in the asphalt was generously doused with motor oil. The T-64 was dragged about a hundred meters and left in a place convenient for evacuation on the side of the road. It no longer interfered with traffic on the highway. Unless, of course, you don't take into account the impressive dent under the bridge, reaching the concrete base of the highway. How did the local road workers cope with it? story is silent. Just as she is silent about who, when and where took the ill-fated tank after the departure of Lieutenant Colonel Fedorov's evacuation group. But before departure, it was still necessary to rescue that very tractor from captivity. They suffered with it for at least an hour, by morning having plowed up the well-groomed German lawns into a muddy mess. Army Commander Chechevatov's order was carried out on time, which the lieutenant colonel reported from the rear command post. "I know," he said and hung up.
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