it was here near kursk that one of the most successful pilots of the second world war , ivan kozhedub, shot down his first plane. the tank battle on the prokhorovskoye field lasted all day. in total , more than a thousand tanks participated in the battle at the same time. history had never seen such a battle. there was such a roar that eardrums were pressed, blood flowed from the ears, a continuous roar of the engine. the clanging of metal, the roar, the explosions of shells, the wild screech of torn iron. point-blank shots twisted the turret, twisted the guns, cracked the armor, and exploded tanks. we lost sense of time, felt neither thirst nor heat, nor even blows in the tank's test cabin. one thought, one desire, while alive. all the same, we stopped the german attack, that is, the germans did not go further, after prokhorovka, the germans retreated to their original positions and did not undertake any attacks until the end of the battle. according to the soviet command, in just one day, july 12 , the german troops lost about 300 tanks near prokhorovka. these losses meant the final

it was here, near kursk , that one of the most successful pilots of world war ii, ivan kozhedub, shotn his first plane. the tank battle on prokhorovskoye field lasted all day. in total , more than a thousand tanks participated in the battle at the same time. such a battle. history has never seen before. from the memoirs of a participant in the battle of prokhorovka, lieutenant grigory peneshko . there was such a roar that it pressed on the eardrums, blood flowed from the ears, a continuous roar of engines, clanking of metal, rumble, explosions of shells, a wild screech of torn iron. point-blank shots twisted the turret , separated the gun, cracked the armor, exploded the tanks. we lost the sense of time, did not feel thirst, nor heat, nor even blows in the cramped cabin of the tank. one thought, one desire, while you are alive, beat the enemy. the battle of poruharsk is a terrible picture, that is, smoke, roar, soot, from the exploding iron, the armor melted. and the cries of the wounded, ours jump out of the knocked out tanks, the germans from the knocked out ones, often begin hand-t