A Friendly Wager
From the open hatch of his Tiger heavy tank, the German commander ordered his company forward, down the single road. "This damn road," he thought, "is a death trap." Yet, his superior insisted on pushing straight down it towards the enemy Headquarters. With his Sturmtruppen leading the way, his valuable Tiger followed behind; flanked on either side by StuH '42 assualt guns. Their massive cannons would be needed for the inevitable entrenched defenses that were waiting for them.
Almost immediately, his men came under fire and the attack stalled. Just as he suspected would happen, a pair of machine gun nests pinned down his infantry while a 57mm anti-tank gun fortified by sand bags took shots at his tanks vulnerable flanks from the side of the road. And he couldn't see them until he was right on top of them thanks to the damn hedgerows.
"All panzers units," he ordered over the radio, "support the infantry and attack those defenses!" He was redirecting his tanks when a squad of four friendly Fallshirmjagers sprung out of a nearby building and assaulted the enemy from behind. Incendiary grenades sailing and FG-42 assault rifles singing, the men manning the AT-gun died in hail of bullets while the occupants of one machinegun nest burned alive. "What a cruel business this is," he muttered as the second machinegun nest was blown to pieces by his Tiger's fearsome 88mm gun.
His Storm Troopers and the Fallshirmjagers pushed forward they began exchanging fire with British Tommies and American GIs, the forward elements of an Allied counterattack. Then came the whine of an incoming American P-47 Thunderbolt, swooping in for a strafing run.
Those damn planes had been plaguing the Axis forces throughout this engagement. But it was fortunate he was still near his staging area, since the Luftwaffe commander finally had his nasty surprise ready for them. Before the Mustang could unleash a deadly stream of bullets into his men, it met with a thunderous duet from a pair of Flak '88 anti-aircraft batteries. Spiraling in flames, it crashed into the hedgerows behind his panzers.
Unfortunately, that now meant he now owed the bastard two favors for covering his ass. "Oh, no need to worry about that," the other officer said merrily to him over the radio, "I'm only performing my duty to ensure a great victory for our Brilliant Leader." The panzer commander grimaced at the picture of that guy's brightly smiling face while he said that.
"Well, why don't you just kiss our 'Brilliant Commander's' ass a little bit harder?" he thought sarcastically. Unfortunately, he didn't have any more time to dwell on his compatriot's queerness, as the Allied counter-attack had begun in earnest.
Joining the attack were a couple blocky British Cromwell medium tanks and a single Churchill heavy tank. The former was fast if not terribly powerful while the latter was a lumbering anti-tank sponge that was better at absorbing damage than dishing it out with the weak cannon it had stuck in that under-sized turret. "Really, what was the point of having a tough tank with only a pop-gun as a weapon?"
Along with them came five American M-10 tank destroyers and a pair of M-8 armored cars. The M-10's actually posed a threat to his panzers even though they had weak armor for tanks. The M-8's were only a nuisance to his tanks but they were going to be trouble for his infantry.
"Seriously, the Allied tank designers need to get their heads out of their collective asses," he thought in disdain. After a couple more seconds of thought, "Wait that works in our favor! Please just keep them safely tucked away in there!"
As tank shells and bullets landed around his men, his Tiger lined up on an advancing M-10. The "Acht-Acht" roared and scored a critical hit with the first shot. The commander smirked as the tank burst into flame; requisitioning the most elite units available always paid dividends. While the turret rotated to its next target, he watched as his elite Sturmtruppen took out an armored car from the cover a crater with a Panzershreck anti-tank rocket and it spun out of control before crashing into a wall and exploding.
However, his men badly needed support; as the enemy would eventually overwhelm them with sheer numbers. This thought was punctuated by the sudden conflagration of the StuH '42 to his right. Then words of salvation came from a stoic voice over the radio, "Artillery inbound."
Securely behind Axis lines came the crashing report of Hummel self-propelled artillery as they opened fire on the advancing Allies. The heavy shells impacted all around the armor and infantry that had become bottlenecked on the road, rending steel and flesh alike. The commander grinned in satisfaction at the destruction of the core of the enemy's advance as his Tiger lined up on an M-10 that had attempted to flank them through the church courtyard south of him and slammed an 88mm shell into it. "Always there to pull my hide out of the fire," he thought appreciatively. It was fitting for a guardian angel to command the artillery.
He was about to send his gratitude when his panzers suddenly came under fire from behind. American paratroopers had dropped in behind them with an antitank gun and remanned another whose crew had been killed. Crashing through the wreckage of the Allied tanks ahead of it, the largely undamaged Churchill cleared the way for two more M-10s and unleashed a jet of flames on the axis infantry. As the Tiger finished off the M-10 it had been firing at he saw squads of paratroopers with recoilless rifles taking positions around the church on his exposed flank. The Wehrmacht commander's shock turned to fear when his Tiger's engine was destroyed by an anti-tank shell and he realized just how completely screwed he was. "Is this really going to be how everything ends?"
Then a powerful tank shell flew past his Tiger and sent the Churchill up in flames. He looked in surprise behind him to see a King Tiger supported by a trio of versatile Panther panzers. Hellfire in the form of incendiary shells came raining down on the antitank guns ahead of the advancing panzers, burning the crews alive. Loud propaganda broadcasts sent the paratroopers fleeing in terror while Henschel ground attack aircraft rumbled over head and pummeled the surviving Allied armor with anti-tank shells.
Once again the Axis held the initiative. "And I can call in some Pioneers and take a breather."
As the Panthers raced ahead to engage the retreating enemy tanks he heard his "Brilliant Leader's" triumphant rallying cry, "They're running away! Everyone after them!" With a grimace he thought contemptuously "Nice of you to show up at the last minute and make like the hero, you glory hound!" As the King Tiger carrying his Leader passed his still sputtering Tiger she pointed down at him, "What are you waiting for, you lazy goon?" she shouted crossly into the radio, "Get that piece of junk moving!"
"That's it!" He reached up to pull off his headset and throw it down, "I've had enough of your…"
"Umm… Kyon-kun?" Kyon looked up in surprise at Mikuru, stunningly dressed as a Bavarian beer girl, who was looking down at him with a confused look. Looking across the room, Haruhi was glaring over the PC at him like he was an idiot, Itsuki at one of the laptops had his bright smile on with a trace of amusement in it, and Yuki expressionlessly looked at him while still furiously typing into her keyboard. He abashedly let down his empty hand as everyone stared at him.
Mikuru put on her usual warm smile. "Would you like some tea?" His head hit the desk, "What the hell do I put myself through this?"
A/N: This is one of my many wacky ideas (One of the few that ever get typed up.) where I wanted to explore what it would happen if the SOS Brigade played Company of Heroes. And then I found the idea endlessly amusing and in some ways perversely fitting so I just had to share it! I'm interested to know what you all think so feel free to leave me feedback!