DISCLAIMER

1 - This is a fanwork made for fun and to spread the love for all things Girls Und Panzer and History around. Girls Und Panzer belongs to its legal owners, as well as its characters and story. Also the show is awesome and you should really buy the DVDs.

2 - I need to thank F-14 Tomcat Lover, Kite Tanril, Soviet Fox, TerracotaVulture, Theralion, Yemi Hikari and the helpful guys at the Girls Und Panzer FaceBook group for all the help and support. The good parts of this fic only exist thanks to them. The bad parts, though, are all mine.

"Youth is easily deceived because it is quick to hope."

Aristotle

I

YSABELLE

As the moisture of the dawning stuck to her clothes and skin, enveloping her slender body in a cold embrace, Ysabelle started to question whether that had been a good idea after all. The nearest American troops were already glancing at her, their heads sticking out of their foxholes, observing the lonely girl who had strode out of the nearby woodland. Fortunately, no-one raised his gun, surely dismissing her as a potential threat.

Ysabelle swallowed thickly, and kept walking, making her best to avoid the outer line of defense and trying to get deep into the American ranks. She was trembling, both of cold and fear, feeling, deep inside, a desperate urge to run away from there. But at that point she guessed it would only startle the invaders and maybe earn her a bullet in the back.

So, she inhaled deeply and kept walking. Above her the morning sky was still dark. It was becoming easier to see around, but the thick cover of low clouds in the sky shrouded most of the light, keeping the world under a veil of cold grey, towers of falling rain moving all across the landscape.

Another gust of cold wind made her shiver yet again. Ysabelle started rubbing her shoulders, her mind wandering into why she was doing that and assuming such a big risk. The conversation she and the rest of Anglerfish Team had last night, when the 77th Panzergrenadiers were travelling past the River Mulde to prepare for the day's attack, was still fresh in her mind.

"Do you think we'll be truly able to take pressure off of the troops defending Leipzig?" Simone had asked Maria. She was sitting on the radio-operator post of the Panzer IV, leaning against the armor plate to her right, and although Ysabelle couldn't see her face she'd guessed she was worried sick.

"Do you think your parents are still there?" Maria asked back, knowing very well what was crossing her mind. Simone sighed.

"They don't have anywhere else to go. I just hope they find a safe place to take shelter in." She then turned back to peek inside the fighting compartment, a melancholic smile on her face. "Oh, who am I kidding? They would be the ones worried if they ever knew what I'm doing right now!"

"I think all of our parents would," Hanna replied from the driver's post.

"That's true," Simone turned towards Maria once again. "If this plan works and we do gather the attention of all the Americans in the region, we will be in a serious numerical disadvantage, though."

There wasn't a simple reply to that. Ysabelle noticed Maria's expression becoming slightly darker as she was probably considering her chances of surviving past that day. It broke her heart to see the younger Nitzschmann uneasy like that, so she decided that something had to be done to cheer her up.

"Don't you worry!" She exclaimed, sounding much more confident than she actually felt. "Not to brag about it, but I happen to know the specs of most of the American vehicles. So you'll know exactly where to aim and what to avoid!"

That did the trick. From her command chair Maria presented her with a slight smile. But her expression turned serious just a moment later. She even covered her mouth with a hand as something hit her.

"It would also be good to have a notion of the numbers we will be facing and their disposition."

It would really be a plus, but how could they even start to guess those details when there was not enough intelligence available, and the attack was planned to happen right after the sunrise?

Ysabelle tried to think about something to say, to make Maria smile like she'd done a second ago. But her thoughts were interrupted by a confused muttering coming from the other side of the fighting compartment.

"Why are we doing this? Night should be used to sleep… This is inhuman."

The rest of the crew didn't know how, but Meike had managed to squeeze her short and slender body beside the gunner's chair, so she could lie in the bottom of the fighting compartment, with a pillow under her head. Unfortunately for her the moving tank shook rather impetuously and the engine's roar echoed inside the vehicle like a thunderstorm. The stink of burned oil and fuel didn't help her intentions of taking a nap either.

At least her complaints also managed to bring a slight smile to the commander's face.

"Oh, poor thing." Simone chuckled. "She never manages to get her sleep."

Maria also chuckled, and then she yawned and rubbed her face.

"I need coffee…"

The whole crew was a little strained. Although they'd managed to rest for a while before the sunset, it still wasn't enough. They didn't manage to sleep much in the previous day due to the terrible night that changed their lives. In fact they would need all the help they could get to get through the next day. The bad weather was an advantage, but it still wouldn't be enough.

That was why Ysabelle was there, walking into the enemy lines, her shoes sinking into the mud while innumerous pairs of hostile eyes focused on her. She had to do something to help her friends, and only her, armed with her knowledge, could tell what each vehicle was and how many guns they would be facing.

Still, there was a method to her madness, and she'd discussed it with the grenadiers who travelled with her to the edge of the American lines. The invaders would never see a teenage girl as a spy, at least not in an active battle zone. Such a thing wasn't surely the German way. So she hoped they would think her as just another refugee, or a curious youngster, lost and scared.

While such thoughts ran wild in her mind, Ysabelle started seeing what she was there to find. A pair of Sherman tanks was parked on the top of a hill, one of them sporting a suspension like she'd never seen before, the name 'Sergeant Oddball' painted along the enlarged main gun. The machine seemed more robust that most of its kind, and although she correctly suspected it was a M4A3 model, she couldn't actually guess exactly which variant it was. The M4A3E8s had only arrived in Europe in December of the previous year, after all.

It still made her excited. Ysabelle had never been that close to one of the ubiquitous American machines before, and the thought made her forget part of her fear and cold.

More vehicles were standing down the line, among them a few more of those newer Shermans, a few of the older tank destroyer models with their characteristic open roofs, armored cars, and even M3 half-tracks, all carefully spaced to make them less vulnerable to artillery fire. It surprised her that the Americans were allowing her to go that far without anyone coming by to stop her.

Ironically enough, as soon as that idea formed on her head she glimpsed a pair of GIs approaching her from the right. Trying not to raise any suspicions she stopped and turned towards them, trying to look as confused as possible.

"Halt, Fräulein." One of the Americans said, with a calm, non-threatening, tone.

Trembling nonetheless, Ysabelle realized she couldn't bring herself to say anything. To make things worse the Americans came even closer, their rifles hanging in her hands.

"Are you okay?" The same American who spoke before asked.

What to do? For some reason Ysabelle thought it would be better not to let them know she spoke English. So she simply shook her head, trying to look as confused and scared as possible. It wasn't too hard.

"What are you doing here?" The soldier insisted, gesturing with ample movements. His companion, standing beside him, was starting to look nervous. Realizing it would be better to do something, Ysabelle went for the first thing that crossed her mind. She gestured, pointing to her mouth and signaling she was thirsty.

"What's going on in there?" Someone yelled from the nearby foxholes.

"It's another hungry refugee." The GI who had stayed silent up to that point said.

Another refugee? The thought made Ysabelle feel a void in her stomach. The country was really falling apart, now was it? And yet, even after getting mixed in the fighting, she still didn't knew anything, except for the occasional comments or the way even the Panzergrenadiers were lacking in every imaginable item.

The soldier who had tried to talk to her gave another step forward, grabbing his canteen and taking something from one of his pockets. In spite of his apparent friendliness, Ysabelle still gave a step back.

"Don't be afraid." The man said. "Here, have this." He held the canteen and the unmistakable rectangular shape of a Hershey chocolate bar. Weary, Ysabelle forced herself to give a step forward and grab both items. After giving a few steps back, she took a long gulp from the canteen. It was actually quite refreshing. She'd barely noticed how dried her mouth had become.

Satiated, she returned the canteen, but kept the chocolate to herself.

"Stop fraternizing with the enemy, private!" It was the same voice from before, coming from the nearby foxholes. It was probably an NCO or an officer, as the soldier in front of Ysabelle suddenly became quite nervous.

"You have to go now." The American said. "It's not safe here."

Keeping with her act, Ysabelle hesitated, prompting the man to wave his arms. "Shoo!"

The meaning of that would be evident in any language, so Ysabelle decided she'd pushed her luck too far already, and started walking back to the set of low bushes beyond the defensive lines. She did so slowly, although feeling an almost unbearable urge to start running madly.

Feeling the chocolate bar against her breast pocket, Ysabelle came to the sad conclusion that the Americans seemed quite nice. And that she and the others would have to kill them in an hour or so.

After a while she thought to be out of sight, and ran through the underbrush, hoping her escorts would still be where she'd seen them last.

"You actually came back." Crouched between a dense pack of underbrush, Eren Jäger glanced at the girl in front of him, unable to hide his surprise. "That idea was incredibly dumb, you know that?"

"I've told you the Americans would never suspect a girl. We wouldn't, at least."

Eren snorted. In his humble opinion they shouldn't even be there, much less with a girl. But the Colonel insisted in making a preliminary observation with a very small team to see where the tip of the American advance in that area was. Ysabelle joined them when they were about to leave the camp, insisting that only she had the knowledge to correctly identify the enemy vehicles. As she was starting to take too much of his time, Eren allowed her to go with them.

Then they'd arrived there, and Ysabelle came up with the plan to go alone into the enemy lines to get a good view of their vehicles and positions. It was another short but intense discussion and, again, he finally allowed her to do what she pleased. Incredibly enough, it worked.

"Did you manage to see something we can use?" Armin Arlert was the second of Ysabelle's escorts in that mission, and, contrary to Eren, he was more worried with the practical aspects of the mission. Although the worry shown by the later touched her, Ysabelle still liked how Arlert was so pragmatic. It made her effort feel worthwhile.

"I did. The Ami is really upping up his game. They outgun us, I fear."

On the other hand Eren was still incredulous they actually went ahead with that insanity, so he made the question that had been stuck in his head for the last hour or so.

"Is that important for you to please that girl?" Honestly, he was kind of questioning himself regarding what he thought about Maria Nitzschmann. She was certainly a one-of-a-kind young woman, with her knowledge about warfare and an apparently innate capacity to lead.

The reverting back to the original conversation surprised Ysabelle slightly, but she understood Eren's point. Her reply, though, surprised both of them.

"It's not only her…"

"Guys?" While Ysabelle replied to Eren's question, Armin maintained an eye over their surroundings. His weak call was enough to move the others' attention to where he was pointing at, somewhere in the wide valley between the hills.

Seeing a squad in full combat gear walking slowly among the musty grass down there was enough to send adrenaline pumping through the veins of the three teenagers. Even though Eren had seen some though fights already, he still shivered with the prospect of having to face the enemy on his own, away from any immediate support.

"It's time to scram." He muttered.

Slowly, the three of them started to crawl back to the sparse woodland behind the hill. The underbrush covering seemed quite complete when they go there during the last moments of the night, but now with the day starting to get clearer, a rather ample gap they didn't noticed before became evident.

Down there, the Americans were starting to climb the slope. Comprehensibly nervous for being in enemy territory and doubly alert due to that, the sergeant at the head of the patrol saw the Germans crawling in the opening, little more than shadows against the dark grey sky. He raised his Garand and cried an alert to his men.

Up in the top of the hill, the scout team heard his yelling. The first bullet went too wide and cut through some shrubbery to Ysabelle's right. The respective sound echoed in the morning a fraction of a second later.

Eren wasted no time grabbing Ysabelle by the waist and forcing her to stand up. "Run!"

Suddenly they were running down the opposite slope, entering in the line of threes while the American GIs went on pursuit. Ysabelle's lungs started burning as she inhaled through her mouth, her heart pumping violently in her chest. There was the crackle of a Thompson submachine gun somewhere behind her, inciting her to run even faster, ignoring the pain in her chest and almost overcoming the two grenadiers.

Startled by the gunfire, the youngster serving as the driver of the escape vehicle already had the Kübelwagen's engine on, and was nervously looking over his seat. Eren and the others simply stormed out of the trees and jumped to the back seat of the small car.

"Step on it!" Eren yelled at him.

There was not need to tell again. The driver grabbed the wheel and pressed the pedal to the metal, making the engine growl furiously as the car jerked forward before rolling away as fast as it could. Somewhere beyond the trees the Americans fired blindly, realizing they had lost the small scout team and unwilling to give chase without further support.

Meanwhile the small military car managed to put enough distance to allow the occupants to relax a little. The driver wasn't slowing down, though. Not until he reached the camp.

"That was intense." Surprisingly enough, Armin was the first occupant to speak.

Nervous as they were, they barely noticed the two grenadiers had dropped onto the seat while Ysabelle tried to squeeze on the space between them, her legs over Eren's lap and her torso over Armin's. It still took them a while to realize that position didn't seem proper.

"You're a good runner. You didn't disappoint me, that's for sure." Eren told Ysabelle, honestly impressed.

"Thanks." Armin replied, oblivious to whom the compliment was meant for. It promptly earned him confused looks from both Eren and Ysabelle.

The driver, on the other hand, had other worries. As they drove deeper into the woods, a drizzle started to pour down from the sky. Although the tree tops blocked most of the rain, some still found its way to the occupants of the open-cab car, soaking whatever parts of their clothes were still dry.

"Ah, great!" The driver complained.

"Well," Armin sighed, "at least this means we won't have to worry with the enemy aircraft for a good while…"