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 BlueJay62, F-14 Tomcat Lover, FenrirWolf, Karelwolf, Kite Tanril, Rogue Baron, Soviet Fox, 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.

I

NEW BLOOD

The columns were growing bigger, or so it seemed to Sergeant Martin Navrátilová as the two vehicles roared past the clustered refugees crawling along the edge of the road. Tired and ailing old men, desperate women, scared young maidens, and crying children holding to their mother's skirts, all carrying with them the few possessions they had left. The lucky ones managed to get some wheel carts or even one of the few horses not expropriated by the Wehrmacht, but the others had to carry what they had in whatever bags they could find.

To Martin it was surprising how loud those people could be that early in the morning. Yelling, crying and moaning formed a constant ruckus that trounced even the roaring of the vehicles' engines and the whining of the mighty iron tracks. It was despair that moved them, and made their mouths spout pleas and insults to the very heavens.

As the sky got clearer the landscape beyond the road also got more distinct. It didn't present anything pleasant, though. Columns of smoke rose all across the horizon, marking battlefields, burning towns, or aircraft crash sites, all the horrors brought forth by the final push of the so-called Allies perfectly clear just by looking at the sky. With any luck, Martin's convoy wouldn't come cross any Soviet air patrol at that time, but he knew he was pushing his luck. The concentric lines of defense formed by the 12th and the 9th Armies should maintain most enemies at bay. It was an uneasy lull in the fighting for those deep inside said defenses, caused by current focus of the Soviets in the 9th Army in the East, while they fought all the way up to Berlin.

The country was agonizing, Martin realized as he glanced back at the people on the edge of the road. The faces went by in a blur as the vehicles drove past them. All of those civilians were trying to get to the West, where they hoped the Americans and the British could be more merciful to them then the Soviets ever would. Berlin wasn't safe anymore, Germany was dying. And yet, Martin still expected to do his job, to, somehow, manage to help his countrymen with what could only be described as a daring sacrifice.

Although young, Martin understood what he was about to get into. He had turned eighteen just three days ago, on April 16, the day the Soviets started their final offensive. Now officially an adult, he found not much had changed, only the number of springs he had endured.

Sighing, he glanced at the sun, lazily rising from behind the distant hills. To his left stood the long barrel of the legendary 88mm KwK 36 main gun of the Tiger tank he was commanding. Tjessen, the driver, was sitting in his post, on the other side of the gun, driving the 60 tons of machinery with great care. Mostly because the vehicle wasn't at all a standard Panzer VI, but instead a prototype of the Porsche version of the tank, the one casted aside when the Henschel model was chosen as the new heavy tank of the Wehrmacht back in 1942. That last prototype of the Porsche version had been resting in an anonymous warehouse since then, before being overhauled back into working order for the last ditch defense of Germany.

Even so it remained the troublesome machine it had always been, prone to breakdowns in either the twin engine or its complex automotive system. So, Tjessen drove it warily, trying not to strain the machine too much. The slow driving also made Martin come to the conclusion that they would be arriving late to their new outfit.

"Thirty kilometers without a hitch," Martin spoke to his mike, "must be a new record."

"Don't jinx it, commander." Tjessen replied, absolutely serious.

Martin smirked at his remark. Tjessen was the youngest member of his crew, being just 15 years old. He was ferociously dedicated to his work, though. Martin clearly remembered the look on his face when he first saw the Tiger (P), overwhelmed with awe.

Deciding to let him be for now, Martin climbed out of the radio-operator's post and leaned over the massive gun mantlet to look back at the Busin-Näg truck trailing behind the tank. The current turret crew, Sulzberger and Hössler, was now in the truck's cabin, the later driving it. The young men were very good friends, and the commander could see them talking and laughing while following the lead vehicle.

Although, as the commander, Martin should be with them in the turret, the training had shown that those two young men made a formidable fire team, with Suzlberger acting as both observer and loader, and Hössler operating the gun. They clearly understood each other, so Martin had decided to keep them as a team inside the turret, while he himself sat in the radio-operator's post to coordinate with other units. It wasn't the best of layouts, but was what made sense with the men he had.

Standing in the back of the truck was a third vehicle. It was a small Hetzer tank destroyer, based on the chassis of the Czech Panzer 38(t) tank. It looked much like a doghouse with wheels and a 75mm gun sticking out of the front. Unfortunately the turret less vehicle was out of order, but the people back at the staging area had told him his new unit, the 77th Panzergrenadiers, had some mechanical wizards in their associated tank squadron who could probably find a way to repair it.

Strangely enough, the officer who'd told that to Martin had done so with an ironic smirk. The young tank commander found that strange, but decided to accept his words at face value and move on without thinking on it too much.

While the tank and the truck moved down the road the refugee column started to get less dense. Perhaps there weren't that many people left in the region, anyway. As Martin contemplated this fact the Tiger (P) growled, coughed, and yanked forward, coming to a sudden halt that almost threw the commander into the ground, had he not held to the gun barrel at the right moment. The engine went silent and the truck had to break hard to avoid crashing into the massive war machine.

As Martin looked to the smoke pouring out of the engine compartment, Tjessen opened his hatch to look at him.

"You had to jinx it, didn't you, commander?" He yelled.

Martin and his crew arrived at the 77th Panzergrenadiers' camp a couple hours too late and with the sun already up in the clear blue sky above. Fortunately the repairs didn't take too long, but they still made Martin anxious due to such a breach in the protocol.

The camp itself was set in a small abandoned village or, more exactly, what remained of it. The buildings were little more than ruins, having suffered a bombardment some time ago. As it seemed, the barrage had happened before the 77th moved in. There were also tents, trenches, and shelters built among the surrounding trees and fences. The bulky Tiger and the loyal truck moved hesitantly among the troops packing the streets, going back and forth, doing errands or preparing their gear for the moment they would also be thrown into the battle for Berlin. Men too young and too old mixed together in the type of mismatched unit so common on those desperate days.

After a while, Martin realized he was lost. He had orders to get to the motor pool, but couldn't find it. So he ordered Tjessen to park in front of a relatively intact building marked as a supply warehouse. After climbing to the roof of the radio-operator's post, Martin looked down and found a staff sergeant leaning against the fence, smoking a cigarette and glancing casually at the Tiger.

"Wachtmeister, sir," Martin called while he saluted, "could you please tell me where the motor pool is?"

The older man didn't reply immediately, instead observing the iron beast idling in front of the building with what could only be described as passing interest.

"So, more new guys?" He finally said. "How long does this piece of junk go between breakdowns?"

The observation made Martin narrow his eyes in barely contained spite.

"I guarantee you, sir, that this tank is in perfect working order. I would prefer if you didn't made unpatriotic observations like that."

"Unpatriotic?" The sergeant grinned maliciously. "You still think that maters? Haven't you noticed? We're just more wood to throw at the fire."

At the moment Martin felt an urge to make a proper reply, regardless of the ranks. But before he could open his mouth a loud commotion came from inside the building. There were men yelling and swearing, and then a motorcycle with a sidecar burst through the open backyard gate, turning tightly to avoid crashing into the building on the other side of the street. The occupant on the sidecar glanced back at the two troopers running after them.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!" It was a girl, Martin realized! He also noticed the white shirts and the dark-blue skirts typical of the BDM that she and the driver were wearing.

"Send us the bill!" The driver yelled, before accelerating down the road, leaving the two soldiers behind, shaking their fists in the air and swearing at them.

"What happened now?" The sergeant asked the frustrated pursuers.

"It was the tankers again!" One of them replied. "Took the sweet potatoes we had left!"

"Damn them! Hauptmann Lauda will be pissed!"

Now Martin was completely confused. He once again tried to engage in conversation with the staff sergeant.

"The tankers?"

The man turned back at him and for a moment it seemed he was about to say something. Then he reconsidered, before allowing a wide grin to spread over his face.

"Well, Unteroffizier, we were talking about how to get to the motor pool before this interruption, wasn't that so?"

"Y-yes. Yes it was, sir." The sudden change in the sergeant's disposition made Martin slightly uneasy.

"Very well, go in the direction that motorcycle took, and then turn right before the last building, then left after you get out of the village. It's among a set a trees, near a windmill."

"Thank you, sir." Martin and the staff sergeant exchanged a short salute, and then the tank commander dropped into the vehicle and ordered Tjessen to resume march, the truck following suit.

The instructions were spot on, and when Martin got to the motor pool he felt a little silly for not having found it before. It was mounted on what must have been a farm, with a windmill and a couple of tiny buildings on the farthest corner, and a short stone wall built all around. He had to ask the two sentinels to open the frail wooden gate and allow him to go in. Once the Tiger entered, Martin saw the other four armored vehicles already parked there, hidden under camouflage nets.

He recognized a captured M3 Lee Medium Tank, a StuG III, a Marder III, and a Panzer IV. The later was being modified to mount armor skirts around the turret and along the flanks. A simpler modification to place an MG42 on the roof had already being implemented. The Tiger and the loaded truck came to a halt right in front of those vehicles.

With professional calm, the newcomers abandoned the vehicles. Martin jumped to the ground and looked around. To the left he saw some girls welding the skirt supports on the side of the Panzer IV, and a motorcycle with a sidecar parked nearby. He recognized the later from before, which only added to the questions in his head.

Looking to the other side he saw a girl that seemed to have materialized from nowhere looking at the Tiger with great enthusiasm, the mouth open in a wide grin, her dark eyes glittering with joy, and her hands clasped over her chest. Martin recognized the girl who was driving the motorcycle now parked near the Panzer.

"This is a Porsche Tiger, isn't it?" The girl asked no one in particular.

Feeling the situation was starting to get too weird to his tastes, Martin decided to act in order to regain control. With the hands behind his back, he approached the girl.

"Indeed it is." He told her.

"I've never seen one of these." The girl said. "I mean, I've seen a few Henschel Tigers, but never a Porsche."

Before Martin could make his own question, the girl jumped to the front of the vehicle to inspect the main gun.

"Oh, it's called Leopon!"

The observation actually forced Martin to look back at the KwK 36. Someone had painted the word 'Leopon' on the right side of the barrel, and no one had erased it during the vehicle's overhaul. Shaking his head, Martin tried to remain focused.

"I'm sorry, Fräulein," he extended a hand to see if he could get the girl's attention, "but what are you doing here? Isn't this the 77th Panzergrenadier Battalion's motor pool?"

The girl had to make an evident effort to divert her attention from the tank to the young man beside her. She shrugged.

"Yes, it is. I'm with the tank squadron."

"You're what?" Martin's question came out completely flat. The girl had to be mocking him.

Now the girl started to feel uneasy with his attitude. Suited her well, Martin thought. A girl shouldn't be jesting with a soldier, much less when the country was in such a desperate situation.

"I am." She finally said, her voice sounding a little more serious. "I'm the loader of that tank over there." She pointed at the Panzer IV.

It was evident to Martin that the conversation would get him nowhere. Looking to the other side he saw two more people approaching the Tiger. Another girl, this one with light-brown hair, and a large Master Sergeant with an arm strapped to his chest.

"Ah, Ysabelle," the newly-arrived girl said, "Have you and Ursel managed to get some supplies?"

Apparently excited to have that girl around, Ysabelle turned towards her.

"Yes, Führerin Maria. Ursel went ahead to deliver them."

Maria made a slight frown, as if she'd realized that the supply pick up had gone exactly the way Martin had seen in front of the warehouse.

"I presume you asked for the Wachtmeister's authorization."

"But of course! He was very happy to help."

The girl named Maria crossed her arms.

"Then we might still have him asking how we're doing, right?"

"Most probably."

Both girls started chuckling, and the Master Sergeant face palmed.

"You have to stop doing that." The large man said. "The Oberst can't cover for you if you keep up with this."

"But there aren't any proper supplies left!" Ysabelle replied.

At this point Martin decided to step in the conversation. He still had to report his arrival.

"Stabswachtmeister," he said to the master sergeant, "I'm Unteroffizier Martin Navrátilová, and I need to report to the commander of the Baderberg Tank Squadron."

"I presume you are the reinforcements we were told about." Maria said while the sergeant remained silent. She extended a hand to Martin. "Welcome to the squadron."

Martin didn't return the gesture, instead glancing at the large man in front of him, feeling increasingly more anxious.

"Sir?"

"Well, Unteroffizier, you wanted to talk to the commander of the squadron, here she is." He pointed to the girl beside him. Exasperated, Martin looked at her. Maria was almost a head shorter than him, and it felt wrong to look at that pretty face and see a superior officer.

"Her?" Now he was certain to have lost all the control he could have ever hoped to muster over the situation.

"Anyhow," the master sergeant said to Maria while Martin digested the reality of his situation, "isn't the Oberst waiting for you?"

"He is." She glanced around, checking how the maintenance and modifications to the tanks were going. Then she turned back at the big man. "Stabswachtmeister Aschenbrenner, could you and Ysabelle take care of things around here?"

"But, of course."

"Good." Then she nodded at the newly arrived tank commander. "Martin, you can come with me."

She started walking away, but Martin was still too dumbfounded to react.

"Son, didn't you hear the lady?" Aschenbrenner asked him. Unable to find any suitable reply, Martin simply saluted and went after Maria. His crew, standing in parade position beside the Tiger, stayed behind, staring at the events unfolding in front of them with silent bewilderment.

Martin's mind was still too confused to put together everything that had just happened, and his stay in the Baderberg Tank Squadron was just starting.