If history teaches anything it teaches self-delusion in the face of unpleasant facts is folly. We see around us today the marks of our terrible dilemma - predictions of doomsday, anti-nuclear demonstrations, an arms race in which the West must, for its own protection, be an unwilling participant. At the same time we see totalitarian forces in the world who seek subversion and conflict around the globe to further their barbarous assault on the human spirit. What, then, is our course? Must civilization perish in a hail of fiery atoms? Must freedom wither in a quiet, deadening accommodation with totalitarian evil?
Sir Winston Churchill refused to accept the inevitability of war or even that it was imminent. He said, "I do not believe that Soviet Russia desires war. What they desire is the fruits of war and the indefinite expansion of their power and doctrines. But what we have to consider here today while time remains is the permanent prevention of war and the establishment of conditions of freedom and democracy as rapidly as possible in all countries.''
-President Ronald Reagan to British Congress, 1982
The one hundred and twenty millimeter round burst from the end of the barrel, exploding gas and smoke filling the void it left behind. An almost invisible trail of propellant smoke as well as the orange after glow of the hot shell lit the early morning twilight as the shell streaked across harvested fields and through frosty hedgerows. Mist swirled from the draft in the cannon round's wake.
The shell impacted with the hull of the T-72 main battle tank, just above the second road wheel. The HESH round blasted apart a segment of track guard and flattened against the side armor of the Russian tank before exploding inwards. The armored fighting vehicle shuddered and ground to a halt. Smoke rose from the front of the vehicle, and the commanders and gunners hatches opened. Two figures, obscured by the dim morning twilight as well as the mist clambered down the side of the tank. One sunk to the ground, clutching his stomach. The other grabbed a hold of the wounded mans shoulders, shaking him.
The smoke grew denser, and soon flames were bursting forth from the open hatches and the engine compartment as the fuel caught on fire. The surrounding hedges and low stonewalls were illuminated as the tank brewed up, burning off the nearby mist. Black oily smoke rose into the air in a column.
All of this Darjeeling took in from the cupola of her Challenger I tank. She looked down at the crew working furiously below her to load the next round. The dim green overhead lights illuminated them and their muscles shone with sweat, not just from exertion. She tucked a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear, her posture immaculate.
The British armored platoon was parked at the edge of an old growth wood, in a slightly elevated position overlooking the farms and fields in front as far as their optics could see. The other two tanks in the platoon barked as their cannons followed their lieutenant's lead, firing at the soviet tanks moving parallel to them at a range of just under two kilometers. Another tank exploded in an impressive ball of fire and shrapnel.
"Come on." Darjeeling muttered to herself. The enemy tanks, after a brief scramble of trying to figure out exactly what was happening and where they were taking fire from, were quickly turning to face the threat. The quicker tanks were already on the move; crashing through the hedgerows on either side of the road they had been advancing along before grinding to a stop behind the low stonewalls separating the barren patchwork of fields. Darjeeling cursed the low profile of the soviet tanks. No Western tank could hope to take any advantage behind such meager cover, but the T-72s were not Western tanks.
Darjeeling was quickly realizing that she might have pushed her advantage a little too aggressively. Upon seeing the Soviet armored column moving perpendicular to them along the road she had leaped at the advantageous situation, wanting to pump as many round into the side armor of the enemy before they could react.
Unfortunately she had assumed that it was a platoon strength force moving with standard support. She had assumed wrong. As the sun slowly crept higher and higher above the horizon she could now see that her three tanks did not face a trio of main battle tanks along with a spattering of support vehicles that would pose little threat to the heavily armored British tanks. Instead, a company-sized force of T-72s was now moving to counter the democratic threat.
Darjeeling reflected on the situation. Merely days before she had been relaxing with her friends in her families estate in Sussex. It had been a cold wintery afternoon, and a warm fire was burning in the massive hearth. The trio of friends had been sitting in the study, sipping tea and looking out over the moors when the radio had blared the news. Western Germany had been invaded. Britain and her allies were at war.
Tensions had been on the rise since the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan. With the election of Thatcher in Great Britain and Reagan in the United States, relations with the Communist Bloc had gone from bad to worse. With Reagan's announcement of the Strategic Defense Initiative and with Soviet accusations of breaking the 1972 anti ballistic missile treaty the situation reached the tipping point.
All it took was for a single Russian fighter, flying a little too close to NATO airspace, to be shot down and the world descended into war. And here Darjeeling and her platoon were, pumping rounds into a numerically superior force of Russians. The radio crackled to life in Darjeeling ears.
"Commander, I'm counting seven enemy vehicles still operational. We may want to consider relocating." Assam's quiet voice came in over the radio. The fear was evident from the quaver in her voice. Assam was not the outgoing type, and she wasn't one to suggest orders.
"That's a negative corporal." Darjeeling replied concentrating on making sure her own fear was not as obvious. "A shrimp may attack sharks in shallow waters." There was a confused pause as her corporal tried to figure out the relevance of the quote.
"With all due respect I really don't think we're in shallow water right now Commander. And I don't think our tanks appreciate being called shrimp." Corporal Orange Pekoe chipped in. Darjeeling chuckled despite the gravity of the situation at her subordinate and friends reply.
"I will give the order to withdraw. But until then, I want to take as many of those bastards out as we can." Darjeeling heard her gunner cackle at her plucky reply just before the main gun fired again with a resounding boom.
The round drifted the almost two kilometer distance towards the advancing enemy tanks. The shell was so small and the distance so great that it seemed as if it traveled in slow motion or underwater. It landed just shy of a T-72 that was making a dash forward. Clods of sod, rocks and dirt flew into the air in a fountain of debris and smoke.
The enemy tanks were returning fire now and shells tore into the woods around the Challenger tanks. With the snapping of wood a willow tree came crashing down not too far off. Leaves and dust flew rose up around the fallen deciduous. Another Enemy tank exploded, the turret lifting off as if it weighed nothing and landing a few meters away. Darjeeling heard a whoop over the radio from Orange Pekoe.
The gunner of Darjeeling's tank landed his next shot directly on the closest enemies turret, but the lieutenant watched with dismay as the round ricocheted off the rounded armor, skipping across the ground like a smooth stone across flat water. Darjeeling cursed and the gunner ran a hand through his thick brown hair. Now that the enemy had their strong front armor facing them their job would be more difficult.
Just then there was a monumental clang. The tank they had hit had returned the favor, and the enemy's shot had impacted with the upper glacis of the British tank. Darjeeling shook her head in an attempt to clear the ringing from her ears.
"Is everyone alright?" Darjeeling asked, unable to hide the slight quaver from her voice. There was a round of confirmations from her crew. They had been lucky and the thick front armor of their tank had bounced the shot, but next time might be different.
"I want everyone to fire off one more shot, then we're pulling back." Darjeeling voiced over the radio. Orange and Assam both replied with relieved sounding affirmatives.
Boom… Boom Boom The three tanks fired off a parting volley of shots. Another Russian tank stopped as it took a hit, but there was no visible smoke or fire. A hatch opened and the driver flopped out, missing an arm. Darjeeling felt her stomach churn, and she was glad that she wasn't close enough to be able to see the hapless enemies face.
There was a cough and splutter as the platoon of British tanks roared to life. The tracks clattered loudly together as the trio of tanks reversed as quickly as they could into the woods. Another round deflected off the front of Orange's tank, failing to penetrate the sloped armor. A parting gift Darjeeling thought to herself. Once the tanks were safely behind a ridge and out of sight the young commander radioed her tanks.
"Is everyone alright?" Sure enough no one was seriously hurt, aside from Orange's driver complaining about a bruised arm. Darjeeling flattened her plaits across the back of her head and allowed a satisfied half-grin to cross her face. She may have made a bad call attacking the enemy column without confirming its composition, but they had safely withdrawn and taken out four enemy main battle tanks and hurt another. The three British tanks turned one hundred and eighty degrees, churning up mud and rotting logs in their tracks before driving off into the woods.
Nonna sat on the edge of her cupola, holding on to the open hatch in front of her with one hand, shading her eyes with the other. The frosty ground reflected the early morning light, making it difficult to see clearly. The pair of T-80 tanks were driving full speed across frozen fields, tracks clattering and engines roaring. The tank commander ran her leather-gloved hand across the reactive armor bricks attached to the turret.
The tanks were brand new, and the best the Soviet military had to offer. They had been en route to a small town where a motostrelki company was being held up by a small contingent of Bundeswehr regulars. But when they had been a little less then five clicks out the call had come in, rerouting them to a company of T-72s that had been ambushed by an unknown amount of hostile tanks. The company was taking a real pounding, and desperately needed assistance.
"What do you think we'll be up against?" A voice spoke in Nonna's ear. It was Katyusha, her superior. The small blonde girl could be seen a little ways away, similarly unbuttoned from her tank. Her spiky blonde hair poked out from beneath her leather tank helmet. Nonna smirked to herself. Frankly she didn't care what they would be up against. Leopards, Challengers, Abrams. Nothing would be able to stand up to the deadly new Russian tanks.
Nonna reflected on her and Katyusha's time in Afghanistan. She remembered the heat, so hot that they could cook eggs on the hulls of their T-72s. She remembered the perpetual and terrifyingly real fear of ambushes. The fear of mines, of insurgents crouching in holes with rocket-propelled grenades or of suicide bombers. There had been days where Nonna had seen her friends killed by sniper fire while they relaxed on their tanks, their blood rolling off the metal hulls and seeping into the dusty sand.
She physically shook her head, trying to free the memories from her brain. From down below Nonna could hear the radio playing. She recognized the song and smiled, listening. The words drifted upwards to her ears, glancing over them before being snatched away by the wind.
Gruppa krovi - na rukave,
Moy poryadkovyy nomer - na rukave,
Pozhelay mne udachi v boyu, pozhelay mne:
Ne ostat'sya v etoy trave,
Ne ostat'sya v etoy trave.
Pozhelay mne udachi, pozhelay mne udachi…
She sang along for the final chorus. She could hear the men down below singing along as well.
My blood type is marked on my sleeve,
My ordinal number is marked on my sleeve,
Wish me luck in the fight,
So I don't stay here in the grass
Wish me luck...
Off in the distance Nonna could see pillars of smoke rising into the air. She sighed, her mouth set in a grim line. Off in the distance were dead Russian tankers, soldiers who would never again see their families and loved ones. She remembered how at the time she had thought it was the worst thing to die alone and forgotten in some dry mountain or poppy field.
But she realized now that it was the same everywhere. What difference did those sandy rocks make from these frozen farmers fields? The result was the same. Dead Russians who would never return home. There was another boom off in the distance. Nonna saw a turret lift off from the chassis of a tank.
"Vladimir, what do you see of the enemy?" Nonna called down to her gunner. The grizzled man rubbed his grey beard with the back of his hand before replying.
"I see them in the tree line Nonna. There are three of them, as far as I can tell. It looks like they're about to pull back." The old gunner replied.
"The range?" Nonna asked expectantly.
"Just under four clicks." The gunner said, fiddling with his laser range finder.
"Let's see what this baby's made of Vlad."
The gunner nodded grinning. He fiddled with the dials, adjusting for wind direction, range and their current speed.
"Load armor piercing!" He called out. There was a clank as a discarding sabot shell was slotted into the breach. The barrel of the gun stayed perfectly leveled on target, the stabilizers doing their job nicely as the tank tore across the flat ground at an impressive top speed of fifty kilometers an hour.
"AP round up!" The loader called.
"Brace!"
The tank bucked, barely losing any speed. Nonna watched expectantly as the round flew through the crisp morning air. She let out an uncharacteristic whoop of joy as the round impacted with target. It was quickly followed by a groan of dismay as the British tank continued to reverse out of sight.
"Bah, either way that was an amazing shot you old crow you!" The veteran gunner chuckled at the compliment. From most people, he would have blown it off but compliments were few and far between from the stalwart tank commander. The wind tossed Nonna's dark hair and she dropped back down into her tank.
"What now Katyusha?" She asked her superior. The T-80s were quick, but they were still a good distance away. Driving into a forest against an unknown enemy would be a death trap.
"I've radioed in to command to let them know the enemy is gone. Katyusha wants to hunt them down, but we may be needed somewhere else." The commander squawked at her subordinate. Nonna sighed to herself. Her commanders third person speech was just one of her many odd eccentricities. Nonna relaxed into her seat as she waited for further orders. It came a minute later. "We're going to head south and wrap around the woods. Those T-72s are pulling back to rearm and regroup, and we need to cut the highway behind those woods until reinforcements arrive."
Nonna held her small paper map up to the light coming in from the periscopes around the cupola. Sure enough, just behind the woods ran a minor highway. Blocking it would cut reinforcements to the small town Nonna and Katyusha had originally been heading for.
The pair of Russian tanks banked to the left a little, staying in line. They passed by the now idling T-72s. The crews were now out of their tanks administering first aid to any surviving crewmen and smoking cigarettes. The sun was climbing higher in the sky, but it was still cold. Leaning on the edge of the cupola she watched the wispy tendrils of breath that left here mouth get quickly snatched away by the breeze. She wondered what they would have to face before their reinforcements arrived.
Kay pushed her long dirty blonde hair back across her forehead as she climbed down off her turret and onto the hull of the Abrams tank before dropping down to the ground. She straightened her non-standard issue bomber jacket, a friendly smile on her face.
"Lieutenant Kay, hundred and fifty sixth armor." The young commander said, outstretching her hand. The tall British girl accepted it, a feint smile crossing her features.
"Lieutenant Darjeeling…" The British officer said, and Kay noted the difference in how she pronounced Lieutenant. "…Kings Royal Hussars. Nice of you to show up to the fight." She spoke with a posh accent, which stood in stark contrast to the British infantry Kay had met on the road earlier in the day. The American's grin broadened at the barely concealed insult.
"So how was it out there. I understand that you already had a run in with Ivan." Kay's eyes glinted with an eager light. She grew up in a military family, and similar to Darjeeling had never seen combat. The British girls smile faded.
"We ran into a company sized group. We gave them what for, but corporal Assam…" She said, pointing towards a girl with long straight blonde hair lounging on the upper glacis of her tank. "…Says that she spotted more tanks inbound." Kay nodded.
"Our orders are to push up this highway. If you feel like joining us for a nice romp, that would be great. The rest of the company has been diverted to an engagement farther south and we need to break through so we can get supplies to the infantry in Winkel." Kay said. Darjeeling raised an eyebrow.
"Winkel?" She asked.
"It's a pretty small town a few kilometers from here. It would have no strategic value if it didn't sit on a key crossroad. There's a company of Germans holding out, but they're taking a real pounding. Supplies are ready to be sent in, but we need to clear the highway first." Darjeeling nodded.
"We're on standby at the moment, so it shouldn't be an issue. We'll move out when you're ready." Darjeeling said. The corner of Kay's mouth turned up.
"There's no time like the present. Let's get at 'em." Said Kay. Darjeeling couldn't help but smile at the American's almost childish energy.
"Right 'oh." The two commanders saluted and turned back to their respective tanks. Once safely settled into her seat Darjeeling radioed her crews, as well as Kay. "My platoon will move along the tree line. We'll watch the woods for a push from the flank, and be in an elevated position to fire down on the highway. Kay, you take your platoon up the road."
"Sounds good." The American replied. The six tanks roared to life, moving northeast. The two groups stood in contrast, the larger olive drab American tanks and the green and black camouflaged British ones.
Kay sat unbuttoned with just her head poking above the edge of the cupola. She absentmindedly ran her small hand across the receiver of the .50 cal anti aircraft machinegun. The metal felt cold and deadly. A chilly headwind had begun to pick up and her dirty blonde hair flew behind her. Her blue eyes were fixed on the highway ahead, ready for anything.
Off to her right she could see the British platoon. They were on higher ground as the woods stood elevated on a hill. Past the tree line, presumably across the woods she could see dirty black columns of smoke rising into the air. She guessed that they were from the soviet tanks that Darjeeling had knocked out earlier. Kay felt a pang of jealousy. The snobby British girl had gotten to the action quicker than she had. But, Kay thought with a smile my opportunity will come soon enough.
Off in the distance the pop of small arms and the thump of artillery had been audible all day. A particularly loud blast dragged the American tanker back to reality. Someone not to far away was really getting pasted. The clatter of treads on asphalt drowned out most of the noise of nearby combat, but the pop, rattle and bang of weapons discharging could still be discerned. Adding to the noise, the radio suddenly blared to life.
"We got movement Lieutenant. The point of the woods, something's coming." Naomi said. Kay could picture the girl, her almost emotionless eyes fixed on her periscope.
"Potential contact, fifteen hundred meters, eleven O'clock." Kay radioed.
The forest, which had run parallel to the road for the entire drive, banked off at a ninety-degree angle. Around the corner and off a little ways were the fields where the Brits had ambushed the Soviet Armored Company. It was as Kay gave the heads up that two Russian tanks burst from around the tree line.
They moved fast, much faster than any tank Kay had ever seen. They were almost airborne as they cleared the ridge, slamming down onto the other side of the hill. They ran perpendicular to the advancing Western tanks, but their turrets faced the Americans. They both fired, and two shells screeched past, barely missing the trio of American tanks. The explosions shook the Abrams on their suspension.
"Contacts, Contacts!" Alisa practically screamed over the radio. Kay winced.
"Spread out, keep up steady fire on them. Remember to lead your targets. They're moving fast, so give it a little extra lead." Kay ordered. Alisa and Naomi gave their confirmations. "Darjeeling, I don't think they've notice your tanks yet. Open fire when you're ready."
"A friend is known when needed." Darjeeling replied. Kay sighed, hoping that meant that they were going to knock out the two enemy tanks.
The three American tanks spread out into a wedge, dropping speed slightly to accommodate the off road travel. They each fired, the rounds screaming downrange towards the Soviet tanks. All three of the shots missed, the enemy tanks moving too quickly and at such an angle that they were nearly impossible to hit.
Kay glowered. Moving in a straight line towards the Enemy would be suicide, but if the three yanky tanks could get close enough they could overwhelm the Russian main battle tanks. If the American tanks zigzagged they would be more difficult to hit, but even with stabilizers it would be a lot more difficult to shoot. Kay decided to rely on the Brits supporting fire.
"Platoon, spread a little more and zig zag. We need to close the distance."
The Reds, seeing what the Americans were doing, slowed down, their right tracks locking in place so the two tanks could spin a hundred and eighty degrees. Mud sprayed out as the tanks skidded around. It was at that moment, when the Russians were almost stationary that the British opened fire.
The three shots landed amongst the tanks in a tight grouping. Kay gave a whoop of joy as she saw gas and shrapnel explode outwards from one of the Enemy vehicles. But much to the American commanders confusion, when the smoke and fire had cleared the enemy tank seemed fine.
Kay had heard about reactive armor before. It worked as a proactive defensive measure, destroying an incoming projectile before it could impact with the vehicle. Blocks of explosives were fixed to the hull and turret of the tank, and exploded outwards just before an incoming shell or missile impacted. It was a very new technology, but obviously effective.
The enemy tanks began heading back the way they had come. Mud flew up behind them as their tracks ripped across the frosty fields. They fired another volley, and Kay's eyes went wide with shock when she heard an explosion off to her left. Checking her periscope she looked in horror at Alisa's tank. It had come to a stop, the enemy shell having hit right on the upper frontal glacis.
"Alisa, are you alright?" Kay asked, her voice sounding frantic in her own ears. The silence seemed to stretch into eternity before the pigtailed girl replied.
"Y-yes." The loud commander's voice sounded shaky and uncharacteristically somber. "B-but my drivers dead. It looks like Joseph's hurt."
Kay could only imagine the damage. The Russians were probably firing solid rounds, the high velocity of the shells making accuracy as good as possible. Alisa was lucky. If it had been any type of HEAT or HESH round, the spalling would have probably blown up the tank, or at the very least killed everyone inside with shrapnel.
"How badly is Joseph hurt?" Kay asked, trying to keep her voice even. Joseph was the tanks gunner, and with no gunner and no driver the tank would be useless.
"H-he's got a bit of shrapnel from the shell in his arm. But…" There was a pause and Kay could hear someone talking to Alisa in the background. "He says he'll be able to keep fighting." Kay took in the information and thought it over. She needed as many guns firing as possible, using their numbers to their advantage. But the Abrams was stuck in the open, a sitting duck. The lieutenant chewed on a strand of hair nervously, before deciding on the correct course of action.
"Bail out and take cover. Once we've driven off these assholes you can get back in and return to friendly lines." She said, trying to sound as confident in her decision as possible. Alisa began to complain but Kay shut her down. "That's an order corporal. You're no good to me if you're dead. I'm not planning on losing anyone else today." There was a pause.
"Ten four. Good luck lieutenant." Alisa said sounding resigned. Kay smiled.
"Right back at you girlo." Kay replied. They had now left the damaged Abrams behind, and looking back through her rear facing vision blocks she could see the living crew scrambling out of their respective hatches. The gunner was clutching his arm, and blood was seeping through his field jacket.
The lieutenant turned her attention back to the enemy tanks. They were still moving full tilt, heading back towards the cover of the woods. Kay had a mind that they were pulling back after realizing their inferiority in numbers. The American Lieutenant flashed a grin. Not on my watch She thought with a chuckle.
"They're going to try and pull back. Don't let them get away!"
The two Russian tanks were in a pickle. They had caught a glimpse of vehicles moving up the road and Katyusha, in all of her over eager confidence, had pressed the attack. They hadn't taken into account the second platoon on the hill by the woods. Katyusha would have taken a direct hit but was saved by the reactive armor that had been installed just before they had entered combat. They might not be so lucky next time.
Nonna's gunner had managed to score a direct hit on one of the enemy tanks. Unfortunately the sabot rounds, despite their incredibly high velocity and armor penetration, at the end of the day didn't have the mass to have any real stopping power. She had seen at least some of the enemy crew scrambling for cover. But a bailed out crew was, for the moment, as good as a dead crew. There was one less tank firing on them.
"Want me to land a HEAT shot on that Abrams to destroy it?" Vladimir asked. The logic was sound in her gunner's question. Just because the tank wasn't operational didn't mean it was done with. The dead crew could be replaced and they could face the tank on the field of battle another day.
"Under regular circumstances I would say so. But unfortunately we have five enemy tanks firing on us." Nonna said with a hint of sarcasm. As if to punctuate her point a shell screamed past, rocks and dirty rattling off the hull of the T-80. The enemies were maintaining a steady rate of fire, and they were bound to start connecting shots eventually.
"Katyusha may have been hasty. Let's pull back and wait for reinforcements old friend." Katyusha said over the radio. Nonna sighed with relief. Her commander hadn't lost her mind in Afghanistan.
"Sounds good." Nonna replied. She pushed her long dark hair back behind her ear. Her cold blue eyes focused on the enemy tanks still over a kilometer away. The enemy could be outrun, but who knew if reinforcements would be arriving before supplies made it to Winkel.
A shell connected with the back of Nonna's turret and only failed to penetrate due to the extremely shallow angle of impact. It deflected off with a metallic squealing noise that reminded her of the sound a slinky made. The tall Russian girl flinched. They couldn't keep on relying on luck like this.
The gauntlet was run and the T-80 duo made it back to the safety of the woods, out of sight of the Western tanks. Nonna breathed a sigh of relief. The two tanks dropped engine power a little. Despite the speed and toughness of the new Russian tanks, they were less than fuel-efficient. They were already under half their fuel load, and would need to refuel soon. Nonna unbuttoned and looked back. The fields were scattered with small dark craters where the enemy shots had impacted, highlighted by the sun still climbing in the sky. Nonna hummed the song from earlier to herself.
Wish me luck in the fight,
So I don't stay here in the grass
Wish me luck...
Erwin was having a bad day. It had started in the dark hours of the morning when she had been left behind in a small town to do infantry support while the rest of her company had moved off to engage an armored push to the south. She spat at the idea. The Leopard II was the best tank ever made. Leave infantry support to the Infantry fighting vehicles and the older tanks. The Leopard II was built for the open. Fast, heavily armed and heavily armored. It was the best the German army had to offer.
And yet here she was, sitting in a street surrounded by destroyed medieval buildings. There was a screech followed by a boom as another artillery shell impacted close by. She instinctively ducked.
"We're down to three rounds of high explosive commander." Klaus, her loader, said. His face was grim and dirty with sweat, oil and soot. He pushed his blonde hair out of his eyes. Erwin expected that she didn't look much better.
"Don't fire unless I give the command. How are we doing for machine gun ammunition?" She asked, dropping into the turret basket. The men looked exhausted. All of them had stripped down to their tank tops; a thin layer of sweat covered their bodies. Erwin could only imagine how terrible it would smell in the tank to someone who hadn't been sitting in the same godforsaken metal box for the last six hours.
"We're down about half." Hans, the gunner, said.
There was a series of muted clangs as small arms fire hit the tank. A second later and there was a thumping sound as a soldier slammed their fist against the rear of the tank. Erwin grimaced. Climbing wearily up she pushed open hatch. The West German tank commander waited a moment to see if any fire would come pouring at the unbuttoned tank before quickly scrambling out of the cupola and sliding over the rear of the turret to rest crouching on the engine compartment.
A soldier was kneeling by the back of the tank, looking up at the female tank commander. He grinned when he saw her, and Erwin assumed it was due to her filthy appearance.
"You look just as bad asshole." She said. The soldier raised his hands defensively, letting his rifle hang by the sling around his shoulder. "What do you need?"
"We're going to try and push forward and take that building towards the end of the block on the left." The soldier said, trying to make his voice audible over the sounds of heavy combat without it being too loud for any nearby Russian soldiers to overhear. Erwin nodded.
"We've only got three rounds of HE left, and we're down to around half of our machine gun ammunition. We're barely holding on to what we have, why waste more ammunition and lives pushing forwards." Erwin said, glumly. The situation was starting to get desperate and she had no interest in winding up dead or captured.
"We need to counterattack before they get a firm hold in the town. If we can push them back then it'll only be a matter of when the suppli-"
"And what if no supplies arrive?" Erwin cut off the man. He looked surprised by the question.
"Of course supplies will arrive. It's just a matter of time." The man said. Erwin was impressed by his optimism. She pinched the bridge of her nose with her thumb and forefinger.
"Even if supplies do arrive, we can't assume they'll get here as soon as we push those infantry back. If they don't get here the second we recapture the edge of town, we'll be left open for a counter attack." The man was visibly annoyed by the tank commander's words.
"Well what do you suggest we do? While they pour more men into this god forsaken town, we just stand here with our dicks in our hands?" He grimaced. "Pardon the expression." Erwin smiled. Even if this man was an idiot, at least he had spirit.
"I'm sorry, but you'll have to tell your commanding officer that we will not be advancing. I have my orders to hold this town, and that's exactly what I intend to do. We'll cover you with machine guns, but we need to save the rest of our high explosive shells. I'm going to respectfully request that you don't attempt a push." Her expression softened. "I don't want to defend this town by myself." The soldier nodded.
"I see where you're coming from. I'll tell the Hauptmann what you said. He's a sensible man, I'm sure he'll understand." The man said. Gripping his G3 rifle tightly in his hands he tensed, preparing to make the dangerous dash across the road to cover. He took off. A Kalashnikov opened fire further down the street and the shots impacted around the soldier. Dirt and dust were thrown into the air but miraculously he wasn't hit, and he threw himself through the doorway of a nearby house.
He peaked his head out a moment later to flash a thumbs up to Erwin. She smiled and returned the thumbs up before he disappeared back into the gloom. Erwin braced herself against the rear of the turret before throwing herself up over the top. She dropped into the safety of the cupola only split seconds before small arms fire rattled off the top of the turret. She reached up and slammed the hatch closed, letting out a huff as she relaxed back into her seat.
"What was it?" Klaus asked, looking over his shoulder from where he had been peering out of his vision block. Empty shell casings surrounded him and propellant smoke still lingered in the air.
"Oh, you know…" Erwin grumbled. "Infantry being infantry." Klaus smiled before turning back to the vision block.
There was a shrieking noise as a rocket-propelled grenade flew down the street. It impacted with the front of the Leopard and the tank rattled, but was otherwise unharmed. Erwin winced. The RPGs weren't a big deal, but as soon as they brought up an ATGM the leopard was screwed.
"Either way…" Klaus said, not taking his eyes off of the periscope. "We're not going to last much longer if we don't get supplied soon." Erwin closed her eyes as she relaxed. She was sure that the worst was yet to come.
The Russian song is called Gruppa Krovi and is by a band called Kino. It's an excellent band and you should check them out. This story will probably be updated relatively irregularly and will really depend on my motivation. I'll try and keep the chapters long and independent enough that they won't be left on real cliff hangers.