2RHPZ
06-22-2004, 04:43 AM
Rem Ulanov
The Transitional Variant
In 1944, when four factories of our country were producing tens of thousands of
new T-34s the most mass produced tank in all the history of world-wide tank
production, the designers under the leadership of A.A. Morozov created a new
tank T-44. It contained a number of innovations. The main one was the
transversal mounting of the engine. This bold design decision determined the
construction of later modifications of the tank for many decades to come.
The decision did not come easy though. All the previous medium and heavy Soviet
(and not just Soviet) tanks were assembled with the engine positioned
longitudinally in the hull. In the T-34, the clutch was installed on the toe of
the crankshaft together with an air turbine to cool the radiators. The power
from the engine was transferred to the gearbox through a pair of conical gears.
The exhaust gases escaped through the exhaust pipes out the back wall of the
hull. On both sides of the hull there were two inclined radiators. The left-over
space between the radiators and the engine was filled by accumulators. Those who
never attempted changing the batteries on a T-34 have no idea what it was to
like to install, secure and connect the terminals of four 64 kg wooden crates,
all done in the dark and in the cramped confines of the engine compartment. They
were inserted either through the cramped driver's hatch or by rope, through the
top turret hatches.
The skeptics (who always did and will exist) said: you can't put a high-speed V-12
engine with a working displacement of almost 40 liters perpendicular to the
direction of travel of the tank - this will inevitably cause problems that could
be as severe as broken connecting rods. They also thought that decreasing the
displacement of the engine compartment for the purpose of enlarging the battle
compartment was unnecessary. Moving the turret rearward could limit the
elevation angle. However, all of these were just unsubstantiated fear, a
stubborn devotion to tradition. Rotating the engine resolved many problems. The
significant decrease in the length of the engine compartment allowed the
designers to shift the turret rearward, with its axis of rotation positioned in
the center of the hull. It has also become possible to increase the thickness of
frontal armor more than twice without disturbing the center of mass or
increasing the mass of the tank. In the T-34 the thickness of armor was 45 mm
all around, except for the bottom and the top. At the beginning of WWII this
seemed like enough. Improvements made to the T-34 during WWII included
increasing the caliber of the gun (from 76 to 85 mm), strengthening the armor of
the turret and a host of other innovations. However, the hull of the tank
remained weak. Increasing the battle compartment allowed the under-floor
ammunition stowage to be removed (it was inconvenient because the used shells
always got in the way) and be moved to the side stowage. Meanwhile, the height
of the tank decreased by 300 mm, even though the turret remained essentially
unchanged. Getting rid of the conical pair in the transmission permitted for a
more compact gear box and for improved control of the brakes and the steering
clutch. Handling the machine became much easier because now the driver's hatch
was positioned on top of the turret, instead of in the front of the hull,
providing the driver with great visibility and keeping him from getting splashed
during fording. The drive train received torsion bar suspension, which resulted
in smoother traversal of rough ground. The T-34's ride was rather stiff and
harsh. The tracks of the new machine were borrowed from its predecessor.
The T-44 was the last Soviet medium tank with paddle-type tracks. However, the
mechanism for tensioning them was significantly better on the T-44. On the T-34
to tension the tracks, you first had to loosen two lug-nuts on the crank and
then pound it with a sledge-hammer in order to separate it from the hull. After
tensioning the track you again had to use the sledge-hammer to set the crank
back in its place. Only then could it be secured in its place. The process
required up to three people and an expansive array of indecent expressions. On
the T-44, the job could be easily done by one person, without the help of a
sledge-hammer.
The rotation of the engine slightly complicated the transmission by introducing
an additional reduction gear - gear-train and fan drive. At the same time the
accessibility to the engine-transmission bay improved. Its cover now turned
along with the radiator and allowed easy access to the engine and its
accessories, as well as to all the elements of the transmission and the
accumulators. All in all, this was essentially a new machine. My first
acquaintance with the tank took place in March 1945 at the Kazan' Senior
Officer's Technical Armor School of the Red Army (KVOTBTShKA). The beautiful
machine was located in a closed and guarded parking bay. You could only see it
through the slits in the garage doors. Its grace and low stance were amazing and
unusual for a medium tank. Just as captivating were the two highly raised
headlights above the front armor plates, the hull machine gun and the circular
array of spokes on the cast road wheels.
A small run of T-44s was produced at the liberated Kharkov factory #75, later
named after the people's commissar of wartime tank production Malyshev. However,
they did not get to see battle action. Several tank regiments were formed with
these machines after the war. A tank, just like any other machine, has to go
through rigorous testing. Pre-production units are subjected to factory testing.
One of the tests consists of resource assessment. The amalgamation of these
tests fully reveals all the traits of a machine. Such tests are essential. The
positive characteristics of the new machine are know to the designers even while
they are still working behind a draft board. However, whatever weaknesses it may
have, appear unexpectedly. Resource tests determine the machine's ability to
perform problem-free by subjecting it to a test run, accruing a predetermined
number of hours of operation, and conducting a required number of field firings.
These tests are long, but they are the only sure way to properly assess the
tank's capabilities. In mid-1947, the GBTU (Chief Tank and Armor Directorate)
adopted a decision to conduct resource testing of the T-44. Three tanks were set
aside for this purpose, each of which had to accumulate 6000 km. The test
program required that every 1500 km the vehicles undergo shooting tests,
complete disassembly and wear analysis. After reassemble, the machines could
proceed with their run. All in all there were 4 stages.
The testing place was chosen to be the research oriented armor proving grounds
(NIIBT) of the Red Army - Kubinka station of the Western rail road, unit 68054.
All my life I've been grateful for the fact that after the disbanding of the
self-propelled SU-76 gun regiment, in which I served as the deputy of battery
equipment, I was sent to Kubinka for further service. The staff of the proving
grounds consisted of erudite and talented military engineers and tank
specialists. The machines there included tanks of almost all epochs and
countries. During my service there, through conversations with friends and
superiors, and by becoming acquainted with many different examples of military
machinery, I enriched my knowledge like I couldn't have done anywhere else.
The department entrusted with conducting the testing was headed by engineer-colonel
Karakozov. The group of test drivers was headed by a benevolent engineer-colonel
Vasilii Fomich Maksimtsev and engineer-major Timofeev. Commanders of the tanks
and technicians-testers were appointed to be captain Borisov, senior lieutenant
Kaplinskiy and me - lieutenant Ulanov. My crew consisted of a driver senior
sergeant Gorbanets, sergeant Kalistratov and junior sergeant Vedeneev. After 50
years, I still remember them clearly - after all, we spent one and a half years
riding together in the same tank. Three vehicles, covered by tarpaulin, arrived
on flat cars from Kharkov in July. Having unloaded ours, me and Gorbanets tried
it out. There wasn't much room at the unloading station so we couldn't really
accelerate the tank. But it was immediately clear: this was no T-34! The
smoothness of the ride and acceleration dynamics were significantly better.
Most of the time was spent road-testing the tanks at the track. At that time it
was a main road consisting of a 30 km circle, situated slightly to the north of
the army town proving grounds. The tanks were delivered to the track on heavy-duty
trailers pulled by the mighty three-axle "Diamond" tractors. To provide for
enough engagement weight, the bed of the tractor was loaded with 10 tons of pig-irons.
The loading tank on slippery ramps, transporting it over deteriorated cobbled
roads, crossing four railroad tracks at the Kubinka station - all this was not
for the weak of heart. At the site there was a small building with stores of
fuel/lubrication materials and a mobile kitchen. In a week's worth of work we
could average 100-150 km. The idea was to traverse at least one full lap while
it was still light.
The next day the crew serviced the machine and the technicians filled out
procedural documents summarizing the testing of the previous day. Each examiner
was given a brown notebook with slots for pencils. In addition, each received a
small wooden box with two sharpened aluminum containers with screw lids and 10
ceramic retorts. The containers were meant for collecting samples of the motor
oil from the engine and transmission lubrication systems, the retorts - for the
main wheel bearing lubricant. At the garrison officer's kitchen the technicians
could be recognized by their dirty overalls and containers with oil samples.
After weighing the machine, the first run was performed on the smaller track on
the grounds of the institute.
After a 20-km race the T-44 was weighed again. Its weight increased almost by a
ton, even though on the outside it was only covered with some dirt. That's when
the hard work began. Having just barely woke up in the morning you had to run
past the kitchen, which was still closed, hanging on to the "Belomor" in your
teeth (the "Belomorkanal" or simply "Belomor" is a cigarette's brand - Valera),
to catch the old "Bedford" truck, which transported the technical examiners to
the track. Being late for the truck meant upsetting the day's testing and was
unthinkable.
The summer of 1947 was a hungry one in our country due to the drought of the
previous year and the extraordinary expenses necessary to restore a war-ravaged
country. No less were the resources expended on developing nuclear weapons. We
understood everything and tried not to whine. The ration system severely limited
the consumption of bread, sugar, and other foods. Officers with families had to
share their rations among all the members. Bachelors had it slightly easier.
Nevertheless, the feeling of hunger never went away. By the end of the summer,
it became a little easier: when we drove away from the base, we deployed a
"landing party" in the persona of sergeant Kalistratov, equipped with a bucket,
a knife and a bit of salt, obtained by dubious means at the soldier's kitchen.
While we conducted our work, traversing the bumpy track, the "landing party"
secretly got hold of some potatoes, which he skinned, boiled, and mashed. Having
done the lap, we stopped next to the devious Kalistratov, who was peering from
the bushes, turned off the engine and started eating away at the much-anticipated
meal. Since I didn't have a spoon, Kalistratov carved something resembling one
out of wood and gave it to me, laughing.
Pretty soon a competition developed between our three crews: who could accrue
the most mileage. The first thousand kilometers were relatively trouble-free,
but then all sorts of problems began to pop up. Due to a defective guard
coupling in the fan drive, a shaft broke on Borisov's tank. On my tank, when I
was switching gears, two of them engaged simultaneously, which caused a break of
a gear pinion. Kaplinskiy lost his engine. However, in this case, impudence was
to blame. Trying to prove that his T-44 is the best and the strongest, he was
towing a heavy IS-3 tank, which, in turn, lost its engine.
The track runs were pretty intense. Every day 10 or more machines were
accumulating the necessary mileage. After the repair of my machine, which
suffered from a broken gear pinion, I took it to the track. Boris Kaplinskiy,
whose motorcycle recently broke down, asked me for a ride. Stretching out on the
front seat of the "Diamond," he was blissfully warming himself next to the hot
engine. I was sitting on the roof top of the cabin, facing rearward. Suddenly,
after crossing the railroad at the Kubinka station, the trailer separated from
the hitch at 20 km/h. I started pounding on the roof of the passenger
compartment. The driver stopped the tractor abruptly. The trailer, coasting down
the road, hit out tractor and it bounced off like a ball. Boris Kaplinskiy was
thrown to the ground and found himself right in the path of an approaching
trailer. Prowling the ground with the tow bar, it was slowly moving right at my
friend, who was lying on the ground. The tall and stately Boris took the only
reasonable course of action in this situation: on all fours, he quickly started
crawling toward the roadside.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, the spectacle was so amusing that I
could not contain my laughter. Everything turned out fine that time. The trailer
with the tank safely came to a halt on the side of the road. Winter came and
with it - new incidents. Due to an incomplete draining of the cooling system,
caused by a water pump system that had been modified to reduce engine height, a
small shaft broke after an impeller pump froze over. The repair of the shaft,
considering the field conditions, was something of an acrobatic stunt. Two
people grabbed a third one by the legs and lowered him, head-down, into the
engine bay, where he had to loosen the fastening and remove the broken shaft.
Then, he was pulled out and after a short breather, lowered back down to install
the new shaft. If he could not complete the job in two attempts, he was
repeatedly lowered until the new part was secured.
The packed winter track allowed for greater speeds. This allowed us to
accumulate the desired mileage. One time, having returned from the track, I
discovered that my cheeks, nose, and ears were frost bitten. During driving, the
driver was supposed to be protected from rain and snow by a removable tarp cover
with a small glass window. However, this set up was not successful and its use
was deemed impractical. My frostbite became known to the local and Moscow
authorities. Their reaction was exceptional: in three days all officers of the
institute received wool sweaters, fur vests, like the ones given out during the
war, new white coats, woolen boots with rubber galoshes for the engineers and
padded gray winter shoes for the technicians. In addition, the testers were
given padded tank helmets and fur mittens on a leather string. Pretty soon, you
could see officers' wives strutting around the town in their husbands'
overcoats. Every unfortunate event has its positive sides.
By 1948, our vehicles amassed more than 2000 km. The authorities were impatient.
With their silent consent, we started running the tanks on a stretch of a snow
covered Minsk highway between Golitsyn and Mozhaisk. In the test protocol, the
nature of the road was described as "a winter, snow covered road without ditches
and sharp turns." In two weeks the signs of testing became noticeably more
prominent. Paddle-type tracks quickly became worn out. At high speeds, which at
times reached 60 km/h, the upper segments of the tracks, severely bashed on the
drive wheels, creating excessive stress in the drive train. The driving was
conducted only during the night, when the number of cars was relatively few.
The T-44 tank was not equipped with the night vision equipment at the time. This
equipment was demonstrated to us by its developers during one of the training
days, which were organized 1-2 times a month. That device was highly secret. It
was set up in the auditorium of the club. On the outside, the building was
heavily guarded by armed soldiers from the headquarters defense company. Each
officer was given a chance to look through the device at those present in the
auditorium. Finally, it was my turn. I started looking around through the rows
of officers. In the green-blue light I recognized the features of engineer-colonel
Skvortsov. I knew that it was Skvortsov by his high forehead and glasses. Then
there was Major Krementulo, sleeping in the dark room, agape with his head
tilted back. Then - Lenochka from the chemical laboratory (Lenochka is a female
name - Valera). Even the distorted image of the night vision scope could not
detract from her beauty. We were all shocked by the capabilities of that device.
Unfortunately, track testing soon ended, and ended too bad. When one of the
tanks from our group tried to pass a slow-moving truck, it collided head-on with
an approaching truck, smashed it to pieces and killed the two people inside.
Having torn off the cabin with its gun, the vehicle dragged it almost all the
way to the park. The vehicle was a self-propelled "100" artillery gun (means SU-100
- Valera), which was used for testing motor oil additives. Its commander was a
young and cheerful lieutenant Kalinin. During the field court trial, his
superior, engineer-colonel I , nick-named "Sperokheta blednaya" (a Russian
coarse, means somewhat like "pallid sperm" - Valera), denied any involvement in
the incident, even though he was fully aware of where and how the "100" was
being tested. Kalinin got a two-year prison sentence and was deprived of all
decorations.
After that, the testing moved back to the deteriorated track. In February
Kaplinskiy crossed over to the other side of Moscow river in search of a better
track and found a suitable route. Its main advantage was that there were no
villages nearby. On the return trip, his tank fell through the ice up to its
turret. Fortunately, the water in that place was not deep. The attempt to pull
the tank out without additional help was unsuccessful and the second engine went
out of line.
The testing continued. After a certain number of kilometers, the tanks had to
conduct field firing with live rounds: 10 shots with the turret parallel to the
hull and 10 shots with the turret - perpendicular. During the trip from the park
to the firing range, my driver became ill, and so I had to drive the tank
myself. The number of kilometers accumulated by me and Gorbanets was about the
same. After lowering the seat into the combat position, I was ready to carry out
orders of the two artillery officers in charge of the shelling. Kalistratov and
Vedeneev stepped out of the vehicle into a shelter. Having found myself in the
cramped position of the driver I was amazed at how difficult controlling the
machine has become. The pedals of the main clutch, the fuel supply, and incline
brake all were now positioned much higher. The levers of the steering clutch and
gear shifting became inconvenient to operate. The visibility was limited.
The shelling lasted for 15-20 minutes. Hot cartridges were rolling underfoot,
just like in a T-34 or an SU-76. I was deafened and choked by the gases from the
gun. After we finished firing, I started the engine, not without some
difficulty, and drove in reverse out of the firing range. Taking a rest, I
thought: how would the driver feel in this tank during a real battle? The three-year
old war was still fresh in my mind.
The ambition to accumulate mileage was replaced by a more rigorous examination
of various junctions and mechanisms of the tank. The trouble-shooting and
problem analysis became stricter. It was discovered that falling-home of the
road wheels appeared sooner than anticipated. To increase the service life of
the road wheel drive train, the new tank was set up with a slight camber of the
paired road wheels. However, this resulted in greater stress on the outer
rollers. As the run progressed, camber disappeared, and both wheels - the outer
and the inner were loaded equally. The last stage of the run proceeded with the
falling-home of the road wheel, where the inner wheel became more loaded. On our
tanks, falling-home began to appear after 2500 km. To successfully complete a
6000 km run, it was necessary to replace expensive parts of the drive train.
By the middle of the third thousand the tank became worn out. Boris Kaplinskiy,
loyal to his negligence, ruined an engine by not submitting motor oil samples to
the chemical analysis lab. This was his third engine. It has to be mentioned
that the expert staff of the chemical lab could predict any problems an engine
might have with a high degree of accuracy by analyzing the oil. After being
reprimanded by his superiors and calming his grief, Kaplinskiy took me to the
"Mukhran." That was the nickname of a blue-painted beer stand. The name was
derived from captain Mukhrankiy's last name, because his wife worked at the
stand. The captain played the role of both husband and rationer. He measured out
the beer from barrels with the help of air cylinders used to start the tank. And
if you were nice to his wife, she could pour you a hundred grams of the hard
stuff.
The engine of my machine got old and worn out and could no longer start
properly. The oil pressure dropped to 2-3 atmospheres. Under heavy loads, it
started smoking, spewing out black smog out the side. The tracks got ripped
several times. The last rip could have ended quite tragically.
On a rainy autumn day, Gorbanets was driving the machine on the track, and I, as
usual, was boldly sitting on top of the hull next to the driver's hatch (this
way it was more convenient to monitor the instrument panel) and taking notes in
the issued notebook. We were required to record the revolutions of the
crankshaft, oil pressure and temperature, and water temperature every 30
minutes. In one place the track passed pretty close to a steep Moscow river
bank. To save me from getting splashed by mud, Gorbanets tried to circumnavigate
a large puddle on the right and approached the bank at full speed. Just at the
moment the left track ripped. I didn't realize it at first, but when the tank
started pulling to the left, it finally hit me what had happened. The tank
stopped, the engine died and it slowly started to slide toward the precipice. I
quickly jumped to the ground and while trying to prevent the tank from sliding,
started yelling to the driver to start pushing the tank. But the tank kept on
sliding and even together with Kalistratov and Vedeneev, we couldn't possibly
hang on to a 32-ton beast.
The disaster was prevented by a lonely little tree growing on the edge of the
bank. It strained and bent under the load, but the tank stopped. We secured the
tank a much as we could with tow cables, dumped anything that we could get hold
of under the drive wheels, and started waiting for the next machine to pass by.
After 10 minutes or so, a "100" appeared and pulled us out to safety. At the
department everybody understood that the results of testing were quite
sufficient to develop a comprehensive picture of the machine's operational
characteristics. Some of the test materials were sent to NTK (Technical Research
Committee) and the Chief Directorate even before the testing ended. The machines
had exhausted their resources and showed everything that they were capable of.
It was clear that they could not run for 6000 km without major repairs. After
3000 km the testing ended.
Shortly afterwards, a batch of T-54, guarded and covered by tarpaulin arrived
from Nizhnij Tagil for testing.
Author:
R.Ulanov
The Transitional Variant
In 1944, when four factories of our country were producing tens of thousands of
new T-34s the most mass produced tank in all the history of world-wide tank
production, the designers under the leadership of A.A. Morozov created a new
tank T-44. It contained a number of innovations. The main one was the
transversal mounting of the engine. This bold design decision determined the
construction of later modifications of the tank for many decades to come.
The decision did not come easy though. All the previous medium and heavy Soviet
(and not just Soviet) tanks were assembled with the engine positioned
longitudinally in the hull. In the T-34, the clutch was installed on the toe of
the crankshaft together with an air turbine to cool the radiators. The power
from the engine was transferred to the gearbox through a pair of conical gears.
The exhaust gases escaped through the exhaust pipes out the back wall of the
hull. On both sides of the hull there were two inclined radiators. The left-over
space between the radiators and the engine was filled by accumulators. Those who
never attempted changing the batteries on a T-34 have no idea what it was to
like to install, secure and connect the terminals of four 64 kg wooden crates,
all done in the dark and in the cramped confines of the engine compartment. They
were inserted either through the cramped driver's hatch or by rope, through the
top turret hatches.
The skeptics (who always did and will exist) said: you can't put a high-speed V-12
engine with a working displacement of almost 40 liters perpendicular to the
direction of travel of the tank - this will inevitably cause problems that could
be as severe as broken connecting rods. They also thought that decreasing the
displacement of the engine compartment for the purpose of enlarging the battle
compartment was unnecessary. Moving the turret rearward could limit the
elevation angle. However, all of these were just unsubstantiated fear, a
stubborn devotion to tradition. Rotating the engine resolved many problems. The
significant decrease in the length of the engine compartment allowed the
designers to shift the turret rearward, with its axis of rotation positioned in
the center of the hull. It has also become possible to increase the thickness of
frontal armor more than twice without disturbing the center of mass or
increasing the mass of the tank. In the T-34 the thickness of armor was 45 mm
all around, except for the bottom and the top. At the beginning of WWII this
seemed like enough. Improvements made to the T-34 during WWII included
increasing the caliber of the gun (from 76 to 85 mm), strengthening the armor of
the turret and a host of other innovations. However, the hull of the tank
remained weak. Increasing the battle compartment allowed the under-floor
ammunition stowage to be removed (it was inconvenient because the used shells
always got in the way) and be moved to the side stowage. Meanwhile, the height
of the tank decreased by 300 mm, even though the turret remained essentially
unchanged. Getting rid of the conical pair in the transmission permitted for a
more compact gear box and for improved control of the brakes and the steering
clutch. Handling the machine became much easier because now the driver's hatch
was positioned on top of the turret, instead of in the front of the hull,
providing the driver with great visibility and keeping him from getting splashed
during fording. The drive train received torsion bar suspension, which resulted
in smoother traversal of rough ground. The T-34's ride was rather stiff and
harsh. The tracks of the new machine were borrowed from its predecessor.
The T-44 was the last Soviet medium tank with paddle-type tracks. However, the
mechanism for tensioning them was significantly better on the T-44. On the T-34
to tension the tracks, you first had to loosen two lug-nuts on the crank and
then pound it with a sledge-hammer in order to separate it from the hull. After
tensioning the track you again had to use the sledge-hammer to set the crank
back in its place. Only then could it be secured in its place. The process
required up to three people and an expansive array of indecent expressions. On
the T-44, the job could be easily done by one person, without the help of a
sledge-hammer.
The rotation of the engine slightly complicated the transmission by introducing
an additional reduction gear - gear-train and fan drive. At the same time the
accessibility to the engine-transmission bay improved. Its cover now turned
along with the radiator and allowed easy access to the engine and its
accessories, as well as to all the elements of the transmission and the
accumulators. All in all, this was essentially a new machine. My first
acquaintance with the tank took place in March 1945 at the Kazan' Senior
Officer's Technical Armor School of the Red Army (KVOTBTShKA). The beautiful
machine was located in a closed and guarded parking bay. You could only see it
through the slits in the garage doors. Its grace and low stance were amazing and
unusual for a medium tank. Just as captivating were the two highly raised
headlights above the front armor plates, the hull machine gun and the circular
array of spokes on the cast road wheels.
A small run of T-44s was produced at the liberated Kharkov factory #75, later
named after the people's commissar of wartime tank production Malyshev. However,
they did not get to see battle action. Several tank regiments were formed with
these machines after the war. A tank, just like any other machine, has to go
through rigorous testing. Pre-production units are subjected to factory testing.
One of the tests consists of resource assessment. The amalgamation of these
tests fully reveals all the traits of a machine. Such tests are essential. The
positive characteristics of the new machine are know to the designers even while
they are still working behind a draft board. However, whatever weaknesses it may
have, appear unexpectedly. Resource tests determine the machine's ability to
perform problem-free by subjecting it to a test run, accruing a predetermined
number of hours of operation, and conducting a required number of field firings.
These tests are long, but they are the only sure way to properly assess the
tank's capabilities. In mid-1947, the GBTU (Chief Tank and Armor Directorate)
adopted a decision to conduct resource testing of the T-44. Three tanks were set
aside for this purpose, each of which had to accumulate 6000 km. The test
program required that every 1500 km the vehicles undergo shooting tests,
complete disassembly and wear analysis. After reassemble, the machines could
proceed with their run. All in all there were 4 stages.
The testing place was chosen to be the research oriented armor proving grounds
(NIIBT) of the Red Army - Kubinka station of the Western rail road, unit 68054.
All my life I've been grateful for the fact that after the disbanding of the
self-propelled SU-76 gun regiment, in which I served as the deputy of battery
equipment, I was sent to Kubinka for further service. The staff of the proving
grounds consisted of erudite and talented military engineers and tank
specialists. The machines there included tanks of almost all epochs and
countries. During my service there, through conversations with friends and
superiors, and by becoming acquainted with many different examples of military
machinery, I enriched my knowledge like I couldn't have done anywhere else.
The department entrusted with conducting the testing was headed by engineer-colonel
Karakozov. The group of test drivers was headed by a benevolent engineer-colonel
Vasilii Fomich Maksimtsev and engineer-major Timofeev. Commanders of the tanks
and technicians-testers were appointed to be captain Borisov, senior lieutenant
Kaplinskiy and me - lieutenant Ulanov. My crew consisted of a driver senior
sergeant Gorbanets, sergeant Kalistratov and junior sergeant Vedeneev. After 50
years, I still remember them clearly - after all, we spent one and a half years
riding together in the same tank. Three vehicles, covered by tarpaulin, arrived
on flat cars from Kharkov in July. Having unloaded ours, me and Gorbanets tried
it out. There wasn't much room at the unloading station so we couldn't really
accelerate the tank. But it was immediately clear: this was no T-34! The
smoothness of the ride and acceleration dynamics were significantly better.
Most of the time was spent road-testing the tanks at the track. At that time it
was a main road consisting of a 30 km circle, situated slightly to the north of
the army town proving grounds. The tanks were delivered to the track on heavy-duty
trailers pulled by the mighty three-axle "Diamond" tractors. To provide for
enough engagement weight, the bed of the tractor was loaded with 10 tons of pig-irons.
The loading tank on slippery ramps, transporting it over deteriorated cobbled
roads, crossing four railroad tracks at the Kubinka station - all this was not
for the weak of heart. At the site there was a small building with stores of
fuel/lubrication materials and a mobile kitchen. In a week's worth of work we
could average 100-150 km. The idea was to traverse at least one full lap while
it was still light.
The next day the crew serviced the machine and the technicians filled out
procedural documents summarizing the testing of the previous day. Each examiner
was given a brown notebook with slots for pencils. In addition, each received a
small wooden box with two sharpened aluminum containers with screw lids and 10
ceramic retorts. The containers were meant for collecting samples of the motor
oil from the engine and transmission lubrication systems, the retorts - for the
main wheel bearing lubricant. At the garrison officer's kitchen the technicians
could be recognized by their dirty overalls and containers with oil samples.
After weighing the machine, the first run was performed on the smaller track on
the grounds of the institute.
After a 20-km race the T-44 was weighed again. Its weight increased almost by a
ton, even though on the outside it was only covered with some dirt. That's when
the hard work began. Having just barely woke up in the morning you had to run
past the kitchen, which was still closed, hanging on to the "Belomor" in your
teeth (the "Belomorkanal" or simply "Belomor" is a cigarette's brand - Valera),
to catch the old "Bedford" truck, which transported the technical examiners to
the track. Being late for the truck meant upsetting the day's testing and was
unthinkable.
The summer of 1947 was a hungry one in our country due to the drought of the
previous year and the extraordinary expenses necessary to restore a war-ravaged
country. No less were the resources expended on developing nuclear weapons. We
understood everything and tried not to whine. The ration system severely limited
the consumption of bread, sugar, and other foods. Officers with families had to
share their rations among all the members. Bachelors had it slightly easier.
Nevertheless, the feeling of hunger never went away. By the end of the summer,
it became a little easier: when we drove away from the base, we deployed a
"landing party" in the persona of sergeant Kalistratov, equipped with a bucket,
a knife and a bit of salt, obtained by dubious means at the soldier's kitchen.
While we conducted our work, traversing the bumpy track, the "landing party"
secretly got hold of some potatoes, which he skinned, boiled, and mashed. Having
done the lap, we stopped next to the devious Kalistratov, who was peering from
the bushes, turned off the engine and started eating away at the much-anticipated
meal. Since I didn't have a spoon, Kalistratov carved something resembling one
out of wood and gave it to me, laughing.
Pretty soon a competition developed between our three crews: who could accrue
the most mileage. The first thousand kilometers were relatively trouble-free,
but then all sorts of problems began to pop up. Due to a defective guard
coupling in the fan drive, a shaft broke on Borisov's tank. On my tank, when I
was switching gears, two of them engaged simultaneously, which caused a break of
a gear pinion. Kaplinskiy lost his engine. However, in this case, impudence was
to blame. Trying to prove that his T-44 is the best and the strongest, he was
towing a heavy IS-3 tank, which, in turn, lost its engine.
The track runs were pretty intense. Every day 10 or more machines were
accumulating the necessary mileage. After the repair of my machine, which
suffered from a broken gear pinion, I took it to the track. Boris Kaplinskiy,
whose motorcycle recently broke down, asked me for a ride. Stretching out on the
front seat of the "Diamond," he was blissfully warming himself next to the hot
engine. I was sitting on the roof top of the cabin, facing rearward. Suddenly,
after crossing the railroad at the Kubinka station, the trailer separated from
the hitch at 20 km/h. I started pounding on the roof of the passenger
compartment. The driver stopped the tractor abruptly. The trailer, coasting down
the road, hit out tractor and it bounced off like a ball. Boris Kaplinskiy was
thrown to the ground and found himself right in the path of an approaching
trailer. Prowling the ground with the tow bar, it was slowly moving right at my
friend, who was lying on the ground. The tall and stately Boris took the only
reasonable course of action in this situation: on all fours, he quickly started
crawling toward the roadside.
Despite the seriousness of the situation, the spectacle was so amusing that I
could not contain my laughter. Everything turned out fine that time. The trailer
with the tank safely came to a halt on the side of the road. Winter came and
with it - new incidents. Due to an incomplete draining of the cooling system,
caused by a water pump system that had been modified to reduce engine height, a
small shaft broke after an impeller pump froze over. The repair of the shaft,
considering the field conditions, was something of an acrobatic stunt. Two
people grabbed a third one by the legs and lowered him, head-down, into the
engine bay, where he had to loosen the fastening and remove the broken shaft.
Then, he was pulled out and after a short breather, lowered back down to install
the new shaft. If he could not complete the job in two attempts, he was
repeatedly lowered until the new part was secured.
The packed winter track allowed for greater speeds. This allowed us to
accumulate the desired mileage. One time, having returned from the track, I
discovered that my cheeks, nose, and ears were frost bitten. During driving, the
driver was supposed to be protected from rain and snow by a removable tarp cover
with a small glass window. However, this set up was not successful and its use
was deemed impractical. My frostbite became known to the local and Moscow
authorities. Their reaction was exceptional: in three days all officers of the
institute received wool sweaters, fur vests, like the ones given out during the
war, new white coats, woolen boots with rubber galoshes for the engineers and
padded gray winter shoes for the technicians. In addition, the testers were
given padded tank helmets and fur mittens on a leather string. Pretty soon, you
could see officers' wives strutting around the town in their husbands'
overcoats. Every unfortunate event has its positive sides.
By 1948, our vehicles amassed more than 2000 km. The authorities were impatient.
With their silent consent, we started running the tanks on a stretch of a snow
covered Minsk highway between Golitsyn and Mozhaisk. In the test protocol, the
nature of the road was described as "a winter, snow covered road without ditches
and sharp turns." In two weeks the signs of testing became noticeably more
prominent. Paddle-type tracks quickly became worn out. At high speeds, which at
times reached 60 km/h, the upper segments of the tracks, severely bashed on the
drive wheels, creating excessive stress in the drive train. The driving was
conducted only during the night, when the number of cars was relatively few.
The T-44 tank was not equipped with the night vision equipment at the time. This
equipment was demonstrated to us by its developers during one of the training
days, which were organized 1-2 times a month. That device was highly secret. It
was set up in the auditorium of the club. On the outside, the building was
heavily guarded by armed soldiers from the headquarters defense company. Each
officer was given a chance to look through the device at those present in the
auditorium. Finally, it was my turn. I started looking around through the rows
of officers. In the green-blue light I recognized the features of engineer-colonel
Skvortsov. I knew that it was Skvortsov by his high forehead and glasses. Then
there was Major Krementulo, sleeping in the dark room, agape with his head
tilted back. Then - Lenochka from the chemical laboratory (Lenochka is a female
name - Valera). Even the distorted image of the night vision scope could not
detract from her beauty. We were all shocked by the capabilities of that device.
Unfortunately, track testing soon ended, and ended too bad. When one of the
tanks from our group tried to pass a slow-moving truck, it collided head-on with
an approaching truck, smashed it to pieces and killed the two people inside.
Having torn off the cabin with its gun, the vehicle dragged it almost all the
way to the park. The vehicle was a self-propelled "100" artillery gun (means SU-100
- Valera), which was used for testing motor oil additives. Its commander was a
young and cheerful lieutenant Kalinin. During the field court trial, his
superior, engineer-colonel I , nick-named "Sperokheta blednaya" (a Russian
coarse, means somewhat like "pallid sperm" - Valera), denied any involvement in
the incident, even though he was fully aware of where and how the "100" was
being tested. Kalinin got a two-year prison sentence and was deprived of all
decorations.
After that, the testing moved back to the deteriorated track. In February
Kaplinskiy crossed over to the other side of Moscow river in search of a better
track and found a suitable route. Its main advantage was that there were no
villages nearby. On the return trip, his tank fell through the ice up to its
turret. Fortunately, the water in that place was not deep. The attempt to pull
the tank out without additional help was unsuccessful and the second engine went
out of line.
The testing continued. After a certain number of kilometers, the tanks had to
conduct field firing with live rounds: 10 shots with the turret parallel to the
hull and 10 shots with the turret - perpendicular. During the trip from the park
to the firing range, my driver became ill, and so I had to drive the tank
myself. The number of kilometers accumulated by me and Gorbanets was about the
same. After lowering the seat into the combat position, I was ready to carry out
orders of the two artillery officers in charge of the shelling. Kalistratov and
Vedeneev stepped out of the vehicle into a shelter. Having found myself in the
cramped position of the driver I was amazed at how difficult controlling the
machine has become. The pedals of the main clutch, the fuel supply, and incline
brake all were now positioned much higher. The levers of the steering clutch and
gear shifting became inconvenient to operate. The visibility was limited.
The shelling lasted for 15-20 minutes. Hot cartridges were rolling underfoot,
just like in a T-34 or an SU-76. I was deafened and choked by the gases from the
gun. After we finished firing, I started the engine, not without some
difficulty, and drove in reverse out of the firing range. Taking a rest, I
thought: how would the driver feel in this tank during a real battle? The three-year
old war was still fresh in my mind.
The ambition to accumulate mileage was replaced by a more rigorous examination
of various junctions and mechanisms of the tank. The trouble-shooting and
problem analysis became stricter. It was discovered that falling-home of the
road wheels appeared sooner than anticipated. To increase the service life of
the road wheel drive train, the new tank was set up with a slight camber of the
paired road wheels. However, this resulted in greater stress on the outer
rollers. As the run progressed, camber disappeared, and both wheels - the outer
and the inner were loaded equally. The last stage of the run proceeded with the
falling-home of the road wheel, where the inner wheel became more loaded. On our
tanks, falling-home began to appear after 2500 km. To successfully complete a
6000 km run, it was necessary to replace expensive parts of the drive train.
By the middle of the third thousand the tank became worn out. Boris Kaplinskiy,
loyal to his negligence, ruined an engine by not submitting motor oil samples to
the chemical analysis lab. This was his third engine. It has to be mentioned
that the expert staff of the chemical lab could predict any problems an engine
might have with a high degree of accuracy by analyzing the oil. After being
reprimanded by his superiors and calming his grief, Kaplinskiy took me to the
"Mukhran." That was the nickname of a blue-painted beer stand. The name was
derived from captain Mukhrankiy's last name, because his wife worked at the
stand. The captain played the role of both husband and rationer. He measured out
the beer from barrels with the help of air cylinders used to start the tank. And
if you were nice to his wife, she could pour you a hundred grams of the hard
stuff.
The engine of my machine got old and worn out and could no longer start
properly. The oil pressure dropped to 2-3 atmospheres. Under heavy loads, it
started smoking, spewing out black smog out the side. The tracks got ripped
several times. The last rip could have ended quite tragically.
On a rainy autumn day, Gorbanets was driving the machine on the track, and I, as
usual, was boldly sitting on top of the hull next to the driver's hatch (this
way it was more convenient to monitor the instrument panel) and taking notes in
the issued notebook. We were required to record the revolutions of the
crankshaft, oil pressure and temperature, and water temperature every 30
minutes. In one place the track passed pretty close to a steep Moscow river
bank. To save me from getting splashed by mud, Gorbanets tried to circumnavigate
a large puddle on the right and approached the bank at full speed. Just at the
moment the left track ripped. I didn't realize it at first, but when the tank
started pulling to the left, it finally hit me what had happened. The tank
stopped, the engine died and it slowly started to slide toward the precipice. I
quickly jumped to the ground and while trying to prevent the tank from sliding,
started yelling to the driver to start pushing the tank. But the tank kept on
sliding and even together with Kalistratov and Vedeneev, we couldn't possibly
hang on to a 32-ton beast.
The disaster was prevented by a lonely little tree growing on the edge of the
bank. It strained and bent under the load, but the tank stopped. We secured the
tank a much as we could with tow cables, dumped anything that we could get hold
of under the drive wheels, and started waiting for the next machine to pass by.
After 10 minutes or so, a "100" appeared and pulled us out to safety. At the
department everybody understood that the results of testing were quite
sufficient to develop a comprehensive picture of the machine's operational
characteristics. Some of the test materials were sent to NTK (Technical Research
Committee) and the Chief Directorate even before the testing ended. The machines
had exhausted their resources and showed everything that they were capable of.
It was clear that they could not run for 6000 km without major repairs. After
3000 km the testing ended.
Shortly afterwards, a batch of T-54, guarded and covered by tarpaulin arrived
from Nizhnij Tagil for testing.
Author:
R.Ulanov