“Defeated Berlin”: Chuikov, Vishnevsky, and the Last Chapter of War

Pictured: Pravda article written by Vsevolod Vishnevsky titled “Defeated Berlin,” appearing in the 19 May 1945 newspaper (translation is possible here).

Vsevolod Vishnevsky was a renowned Soviet playwright, soldier, and war correspondent whose experiences in World War I and the Civil War shaped his deep understanding of the human side of warfare. During World War II, he served as both a naval political officer and a prolific correspondent for Pravda, documenting events through vivid reports and detailed war diaries. His work, though not widely read today, offers powerful insight into the realities of war and the character of those who lived through it.

Dramatic events shaped the end of the war in Europe in the final hours of the Battle of Berlin. At this pivotal moment, Vishnevsky stood at General Chuikov’s headquarters as the only Soviet correspondent present when German General Hans Krebs initiated negotiations following Adolf Hitler’s suicide. This episode, captured in Chuikov’s memoir From Stalingrad to Berlin, reveals the tension, urgency, and human dimension of a moment that marked the collapse of the Third Reich.

“On the evening of 30 April, when I returned from my observation post to army headquarters in the Johannisthal area, the front commander, Marshal G.K. Zhukov, called me. He asked:

— 'Is there any hope that we will completely clear Berlin by May Day?'

I replied that, judging by the enemy’s resistance, which, admittedly, was weakening, I had no hope of a quick capitulation.

That was the end of our conversation. Marshal Zhukov gave no further instructions, knowing the mission was clear to us all.

The mood was good and cheerful: the war would soon be over. The staff of the army's political department invited me to dinner and to discuss the upcoming events. The writers Vsevolod Vishnevsky, Konstantin Simonov, and Yevgeny Dolmatovsky, and the composers Tikhon Khrennikov and Matvey Blanter were also present. While the table was being set, Tikhon Khrennikov sat down at the piano and sang a song from the film ‘The Swineherd and the Shepherd,’ and Matvey Blanter sang ‘In the Frontline Forest.’ We were about to sit down at the table. At that moment, the duty officer of the political department approached me and said I was urgently needed on the phone. I went into the duty officer's room and picked up the receiver. It was Lieutenant General V.A. Glazunov, commander of the 4th Guards Rifle Corps. Excitedly, in a slightly elevated tone, he reported:

‘A lieutenant colonel of the German army has arrived at the front line of the 102nd Guards Rifle Regiment of the 35th Division with a white flag. He has a package addressed to the Russian command. The German requests that it be delivered immediately to higher headquarters to convey an important message. He managed to cross the canal at the Suspension Bridge. This lieutenant colonel's name is Seiferd. He is currently at division headquarters. He has the authority of the German High Command. He requests that representatives of the German High Command be given the time and place to cross the front line.’

‘Understood,’ I replied. ‘Tell the lieutenant colonel that we are ready to receive the envoys. Let him lead them along the same stretch where he crossed the Suspension Bridge.’

‘I will immediately convey your instructions to the division headquarters,’ said Glazunov.

— ‘Cease fire in this area, receive the parliamentarians and send them to my forward command post, I’m leaving there immediately.’

I then called the army's chief of staff, V.A. Belyavsky, and ordered him to provide me with reliable communications. Then I reported everything to the front commander by telephone and, together with Generals Pozharsky and Vainrub, left for my command post. Even before I knew what the parliamentarians would come with, I felt that serious events were brewing.

Pictured: During the Great Patriotic War, Vsevolod Vishnevsky served at the front as a political officer for the Navy and a war correspondent for Pravda.

I'd barely crossed the threshold of my workroom when the telephone on the desk rang. I heard the familiar voice of the writer Vsevolod Vishnevsky, who had been with the 8th Guards Army since the Oder. Upon learning that I was awaiting envoys—representatives of the German High Command—at my command post, Vsevolod Vishnevsky prayed to all the gods, even calling me his own father, that I would allow him to come to the command post and be present at the negotiations. I decided that such an event shouldn't pass by our writers. After all, they, too, had marched alongside the troops, helping us as best they could. And many of them had died as soldiers. Who better than writers to tell us about all the significant events in the lives of our soldiers? I invited Vishnevsky to my place.

After this, I called General Belyavsky to the telephone and ordered him to come to me with the officers and translators of the intelligence department of the army headquarters."

Group portrait of Soviet war correspondents at the Reichstag building. First row: second from left – Anatoly Arkhipovich Arkhipov (1919-1950), third from left – Mark Stepanovich Redkin (1908-1987). Second row (third from right) – Pravda newspaper correspondent Vsevolod Vitalyevich Vishnevsky (1900-1951). Fourth row (far right) – Georgy Samsonov. Last row (approximately center) – Nikolai Fedorovich Finikov (1908-1986)

The events of 30 April 1945, at Chuikov’s headquarters reveal the intersection of war, leadership, and narrative. As the Third Reich collapsed, decisions made in command posts carried as much significance as those on the front lines. His decision to include Vishnevsky in this pivotal moment ensured that the story would be preserved as both a military milestone and a deeply human experience.