Chapter 10: The Brigade Box.
A woman lay on the table, her face slumped against its cold wooden top. Her blue eyes flickered open. Through her blurry vision, she made out a whitewashed wall, that had cracks within the corners connecting it to the ceiling. She looked to her hands. They were pale, and lifeless. She tried to move her delicate fingers.
No response.
She tried again. Nothing. Only then, did she realise that her body couldn't move. Somehow, she was frozen on the spot. Now, the emotions began to flood through her brain. Confusion. Worry. Fear. She began to look around frantically. Why was she like this? Her eyes darted around the room, trying to find the reason of this unusual calamity. Her breathing came in short, rugged gasps. It took her a few moments to realise how hard and painful it was for her to breathe.
From outside her vision, she heard a door open quietly, and the familiar sound of footsteps slowly walked towards her.
"W-who are you?" She spoke, but her voice only came out as a hoarse whisper. "What do you want?"
The person sat down, straightening her black attire before placing down a utensil of some kind. "Relax, Elizabeth." She muttered. "It'll all be over soon." The woman spoke fluent English, but with a hint of a German accent.
Darjeeling froze. "How do you know my name?" She mouthed, attempting to lift her head up. However, it was as if her entire body was paralysed, and would not do her bidding. Her heart beat rapidly within her chest. The woman looked at her.
"That is something you do not need to know." She replied, her brown eyes staring deep into the light blue eyes of Darjeeling. "All you need to know is this…" She mouthed as her hand slid into view; seemingly clutching a knife.
A knife that was drenched in blood.
All of a sudden, Darjeeling suddenly felt a hot, sticky liquid drip down from her throat, and onto the table. A few drips at first, which became a steady stream as blood began to spread across the table. Her eyes widened as the pool of blood crossed into her peripheral vision. "Wh-What is this?!" She attempted to shout, but only a rasping whisper emanated from her lips. "What's happening to me?!"
The woman smiled. "Don't fight it, Elizabeth." She spoke calmly, slowly standing up. "It'll all be over soon… I promise you." She beamed, before slamming the knife into the table; its tip burrowing deep into the wood as the blood dribbled down its gleaming blade. She then turned around and left, closing the door gently as it creaked shut.
Darjeeling gasped, the blood now spewing from her throat and onto the table. She felt her skin and muscle tear apart; as if a knife was slowly slitting her throat. Blood sprayed onto the table and the chair opposite her; the pain was unbearable. She tried to scream, but no sound came out of her mouth. Only blood.
She coughed, sending more red flying onto the already drenched table as her open wound gushed blood. Darjeeling looked round weakly; her pale fingers we spattered with dashes of red. She tried to breathe, but her lungs did not respond. Her heart pounded against her chest. She could feel the crushing, suffocating feeling in her lungs as she was slowly deprived of oxygen. Her sight slowly blurred, only seeing the dots of blood on her hand as the life in her ebbed away. She knew it. This was the end. She was going to-
14th June, 1944. 0600 hours – British perimeter at Amayé-Sur-Seulles.
Darjeeling jerked awake, nearly hitting the breech of the gun; her heart and mind pounding. She was caked in a layer of cold sweat. She quickly glanced around, her hand quickly reaching for her revolver. But sense soon kicked into her.
"It's okay…" She whispered to herself. "It was a dream…" Sighing with relief, she quickly holstered her revolver. Darjeeling looked around; Assam and Orange were deep in slumber. Irene, however, was not within the metal walls of the Firefly. The early dawn light shone gentle rays through the commander's cupola. She looked down. Her hands were shaking a little.
Slowly taking out a cigarette from her pocket, it took her several times to light it. Soon enough, the nicotine filled smoke quickly began to ease off the worry and fear away from her mind. Darjeeling let out a long sigh. Those nightmares were becoming increasingly frequent. And it was something she could do without.
"Awake already, Darjey?" Came Assam's sleepy voice. Darjeeling looked at her colleague; She was stirring slowly, slowly rubbing her eyes as she sat up straight.
The latter nodded slowly. "Yes. How are you, m'dear?" Darjeeling asked slowly. "Did you sleep well?"
"I've had better nights." Assam replied slowly, stretching gently as she spoke. "I'm guessing you didn't sleep to well, judging by the fact you're up so early." Darjeeling grinned.
"You know me too well." She answered, her hand absently feeling her throat once more. "I had a nightmare, that's all."
"Oh? I'm sorry to hear that." Assam whispered, turning around and giving her a small hug.
Assam's simple, yet empathetic reply made Darjeeling smile. Even in the darkest of moments, she knew she could find comfort and respite when she was around her friends. They all cared about her, and she deeply cared for them as well. They were all inseparable. She sighed a little. God knew what would happen if any of them were killed. It would be as if a part of her soul had died within her.
Both suddenly looked upwards as they heard a pair of feet climb up towards the turret, and light flooded in as the commander's hatch opened, the bright light taking them by surprise. Once their vision had returned, they quickly recognised the familiar silhouette of Irene.
"Oh, I thought you were all asleep." She muttered. "Any of you care to join me? I'm a little bored outside, all on my lonesome."
Darjeeling smiled. "Of course." She replied, eagerly standing up and climbing out through the commander's hatch, in which Assam quickly followed suit. Breathing in the crisp morning air, she stretched slowly, relishing the feeling of relaxation as her muscles stretched. "How was the night watch?" She asked slowly.
Irene grinned. "Nothing much happened, as per usual." She answered quickly, stifling a yawn as she swung her Sten onto her shoulder. "You got a smoke?" Seeing Darjeeling nod and pass her the packet, Irene took three out; giving one to Assam and Darjeeling each.
Lighting hers first, Darjeeling proceeded to toss the lighter to Assam, who then passed it to Irene. The three of them stood there silently; no words were needed to be said. They enjoyed the presence of one another.
"So, what's this about you making out with the Lieutenant?" Irene suddenly spoke. Darjeeling blushed as Assam smirked.
"Go on, do enlighten us Darjey."
Darjeeling, red in the cheeks, smiled sheepishly and cleared her throat. "We weren't making out…" She whispered. Assam's grin widened.
"Oh really?" She retorted teasingly. "Then why do I recall seeing you wrapped in Lieutenant Moore's arms and kissing him?"
"I can vouch for that." Orange's sleepy voice emanated as she popped her head out of the commander's hatch, holding her head in her hands as her elbows rested against the bare metal.
"Oh, alright then. I kissed him, okay?" Darjeeling chuckled and looked at the three of them. "Happy now?"
Irene was about to reply when a faint humming sound filled the air. All of them listened tentatively. "Do you hear that?" She whispered.
Darjeeling looked up to the sky, scanning for any black dots that would-be aircraft. "Yeah…" She muttered, as her eyes locked onto four black dots coming in from the six o'clock high. "Aircraft inbound…"
The three of them watched intently as the planes got closer and closer. They were in an attack formation.
"Wait a second…" Assam muttered. She noticed the black and white stripes on the top and bottom of the wings. Her eyes lit up. "Those are RAF Typhoons!" She shouted as they roared overhead.
Darjeeling looked up at them. Even though she saw them clearly for a split second, she noticed that each one was loaded with either rockets or bombs. She grinned as they roared above them, before delivering their payload at the German positions seconds later.
"Go get 'em boys!" Irene shouted, and they all erupted in cheering and applause as a loud explosion sent a fireball into the air.
Darjeeling smiled happily, watching as one Typhoon first strafed with him quadruple 20mm cannons, then let loose his eight rockets into the vicinity of German positions, a loud explosion and dust cloud following each rocket impact. "About time!" She exclaimed, jumping up to get a better view of a subsequent explosion.
"That's what you get, you German bastards!" Assam yelled, and Darjeeling couldn't help but cheer and punch her fist into the air. The infantry in their defensive positions got up and did the same; cheering and whooping at the sight of Allied air superiority. The Typhoons swept through the air, strafing again and again, before climbing high into the sky and soon disappearing into the crisp morning sky.
Darjeeling smiled. "They gave the Germans what for." She spoke, looking at the smoke rising from beyond their position. "But that does mean something." Her voice dropped a little, with a hint of worry within her voice.
"They are going to attack soon." Assam simply stated. "We should get ready."
As soon as she said that, James quickly ran towards them. "All units are to be on high alert for an enemy attack." He said rather breathlessly. "Sergeant, I want you and out platoon to be fully ready with engines running in five minutes."
Darjeeling quickly nodded. "Yes sir, right away."
James then looked round, before leaning forwards and placing a kiss on Darjeeling's cheek. "For luck." He whispered. She blushed, but the blush soon turned itself into a soft smile as she pulled James into a small hug, and let their lips meet gently.
After a minute or two, they slowly broke away, and James smiled. Looking at Darjeeling's bemused crew, he winked. "Not a word?" He spoke. They grinned and nodded.
"Not a word." They promised, albeit all three of them were smirking heavily. James nodded curtly, then smiled at Darjeeling, before walking off back towards his tank.
Darjeeling looked at her crew. "What are you staring at?" She joked, as she rolled her eyes playfully at them. "Let's go."
With that, Assam and Orange quickly jumped into their seats, with Darjeeling and Irene being the last. "I'm keeping the hatch open, alright?" Darjeeling stated, putting on her headphones. "Everyone, radio check."
"We're good. We can hear you." Assam replied instantly.
"Yep. Hearing you loud and clear Darjey." Orange spoke.
"All good here." Irene stated.
Darjeeling nodded. "Alright then. Let's get this beauty started. Orange, radio our squadron to be ready for battle. Again."
"Do you really think the German's will attack?" Irene asked over the hum of the engine. Darjeeling sighed.
"Unfortunately, the German philosophy of attack seems to be; Better late than never." She muttered. "They will wait for the right moment to strike."
14th June, 1944. 0830 hours – German jump off lines.
Hearing the sound of explosions finally cease, and the hum of the propellers fade away, Maho finally breathed a sigh of relief. "About fucking time it ended." She muttered, crawling out from underneath her Tiger, and surveying the damage the Allied air attack had done; several tanks and two Tigers lay smothered in flames. Her company was even more depleted than ever now. Wrecked vehicles of every kind lay smoking on the road. But what she noticed the most were the dead. Corpses lay scattered around, residue of blood and body parts smeared onto a nearby wall. A burnt, charred remains of a man's upper torso in the driver's hatch. Eye sockets replacing where his eyes should've been. However disturbing and unsettling the images she saw, it did not faze her. Not anymore. With years on the Eastern front under her belt, she'd grown used to the everyday sight of disembowelled and eviscerated soldiers.
"Everyone okay?" She spoke, giving a hand to Erika who had just wriggled out from underneath the hull of their tank. From a ditch few meters away, Christian, Felix and Ernst slowly stood up. They were all as white as death; visibly shocked from what had unfolded moments before. Only after a few moments of silence, did Felix nod slowly.
"T-That was intense…" He muttered. Maho sighed.
"Felix. We've been through worse. Pull yourself together." She muttered, albeit her hands were shaking a little. "We have a more important job to complete right now. "Come here, we need to be briefed for the attack." However, seeing the three men remain standing as still as statues, she frowned.
"Men. Pull yourself together." She whispered with deadly intensity. "Erika, on me. Now."
Erika quickly nodded and stood beside Maho. A few moments later, the remaining male crew joined them.
Maho smiled coldly. "It took you long enough." She spoke emotionlessly, before walking off to the nearby house, with her crew following behind her.
As they entered the rather packed room, Maho could hear her superior, Erwin, briefing the rest of the crewmen. "... We're attacking the British lines that are just across this field. The Panzergrenadiers will try to break through on the eastern side, here, and here." She pointed. "Our job is to try and outflank the infantry positions, and to break through the defensive box they have made. We will have a panzergrenadier platoon attached for extra support." She looked round. "Is everyone clear?"
They nodded. "Jawohl, Hauptmann."
"Good." Erwin folded her map and placed it back into her pocket. "Get everything ready. We attack in ten minutes."
As the rest of the crewmen began to exit the room and back to their own vehicles, Erwin looked up. "Oberleutnant Ketler, I want a word."
Turning round, Maho looked at the latter. "What is it, Hauptmann?"
Erwin rubbed her eyes, before sighing. "Is everything alright? You seem to be, shall I say, out of focus lately."
Maho smiled faintly. "I'm just tired. It's nothing much."
"Are you sure?"
Maho quickly nodded. "Yes. I'm quite sure." Then a sudden thought crossed her mind. "Can I ask a question?" She asked.
"Go on." Erwin asked casually. Maho smiled a little, and shrugged.
"Where's Miho being deployed?"
Erwin looked down at her map. "Her Panzer company is being deployed to the southern tip of the box. She'll be against a tank regiment." She looked down at Maho slowly. "Why do you ask?"
The latter took off her sidecap, before taking a closer look at the map, Maho sighed. "I just… worry for her."
Erwin nodded. "I understand what you mean." She smiled. "You sometimes worry too much about her, you know?" She whispered, her hand gently holding Maho's. "She's sixteen. She is old enough to fend for herself. She's a tough girl. Miho will make it through."
Maho couldn't help but laugh at her remark. "Make it through?" She spoke whispered. "Erwin, she nearly died within two weeks of her initial deployment!" She nearly shouted, holding back the tears welling up in her eyes. "And you say she'll make it through?"
Listening silently, Erwin took in every piercing word that Maho spoke. "I know. I didn't mean to offend." She whispered. "I'm sorry…"
Maho shook her head quickly. "Don't apologise to me, Erwin." She muttered, casting an air of sadness within her eyes to her colleague. "It isn't your fault…" The brunette mouthed, the emotions finally getting to her as she wiped the tears now slowly dripping from her eyes. "… The war is."
Seeing Maho finally break down in front of her, Erwin sighed. "Maho, calm down." She whispered. "Pull yourself together."
Composing herself quickly she cleared her throat. "I don't know how much more I can take." She whispered. "How much longer does this madness need to continue? We're going to be defeated, after all. Why should we-"
Erwin frowned and put a finger on her lip. "Don't say that here." She mouthed. "Not now. I can't let you be arrested and charged for defeatism." She whispered to Maho, eyeing up the other people within the room. "But listen to be Maho." Erwin sighed, looking straight into her eyes.
"Hm?"
"I need you to keep going." Erwin spoke, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Every day that we fight now, it's for our country. Our home. Our futures." She looked down. "I understand how you feel, Maho. I've fought by your side ever since France, four years ago." Erwin whispered. "We've seen death. We've seen blood and suffering. But, did we ever lose hope then?" She smiled faintly, seeing her colleague shake her head. "Then we mustn't lose hope now. Even in these circumstances."
Listening to Erwin speak, Maho finally dried her eyes and smiled. "Thanks, Erwin." She calmly spoke. "I guess, we cannot give up. Even in such dire situations." The latter nodded.
"Yes. Now, you know what we have to do. Even in such dark times. The attack begins in five minutes."
Maho nodded and smiled. "Jawohl, Hauptmann."
14th June, 1944. 0835 hours – British perimeter at Amayé-Sur-Seulles.
Through the dense morning air, Darjeeling stared through her binoculars from their jump off positions within the forest. Although she could barely see their own infantry lines, she pressed the rim close to her eyes. Something was off.
"What are they waiting for?" She muttered, scanning the horizon for any sign of enemy activity. "They should've attacked by now."
Assam shrugged in her seat. "Who knows?" She spoke. "Maybe they are following their usual procedure; striking when the time is right."
Chuckling softly, Darjeeling continued to peer through the lens of her binoculars. "True." She whispered, before putting them down. "I don't see anything. But keep your eyes on a swivel. Jerry may attack at any moment."
"Perha-"
A bullet suddenly whizzed through the air and hit a tree behind them. Darjeeling's eyes widened. "They're attacking!" She yelled, as she saw men and tanks advancing towards their lines through her binoculars. "Irene, start the engine!"
The Firefly growled into life once more, the inhabitants of the tank scrambling to ready their metal beast. Through their headphones, James's voice crackled through the static.
"Platoon, be on standby. We may need to assist the 1/7th Queens. All tanks are to be combat ready as soon as possible."
"Roger that Lieutenant, we are standing by as you speak." Darjeeling replied, as she attached a belt of ammunition to the turret machine gun. Glancing through her binoculars, she could see the infantry firing back at the advancing Panzergrenadiers through the morning mist. Every so often a bullet connected with a man's body, red spraying out of his wound as he collapsed into the field.
"What are we waiting for?!" Irene shouted, as the sound of whistling mortars filled the air. The infantry was being pounded with mortar shells and artillery. "They need our help!"
Darjeeling ducked as a shell exploded about two dozen meters ahead of them. Although not that close, but still uncomfortably near. "Patience, Irene. We will play our part soon enough." She spoke calmly, continuing to survey the firefight several hundred meters in front of them. The British were putting up a fight. They had managed to stall the advance, and now it was a battle of attrition. But not without a cost; several soldiers lay sprawled on the ground, blood trickling down their uniforms.
The radio suddenly crackled into life. "Troop, listen up. We are moving out to provide fire support to the 1/7th Queens straight in front of us. The Germans are about to break through. Move out!" Darjeeling smiled.
"See? Patience is a virtue, Irene." She then pulled the bolt on the mounted machinegun. "Full ahead, driver!"
The Firefly roared into life once more, and began crawling its way towards the infantry lines. "Cut down any German that moves!" Darjeeling ordered, as they got closer and closer. She aimed at the nearest soldier, and opened fire. The soldier's head exploded as he collapsed in a shower of blood and brain matter. She then let rip; sending bullet after bullet downrange as the rest of the tanks followed suit, a deadly hail of lead being pumped towards the Germans via mounted or coaxial machineguns. Soldier after soldier fell, their bodies being riddled with bullets as they fell into the field, never to rise again.
The tanks continued firing for a prolonged amount of time, creating a pile of corpses as they mowed down the hapless ranks of German soldiers as they advanced. Darjeeling kept on firing, pointing the machinegun wherever she saw movement. Everything was quite surreal; the entire scene playing in slow motion in her eyes. The muzzle flash of the gun. The bullet impacting its next victim. Their faces etched with shock, horror and pain. She watched as their life trickled away through the blood that seeped down their uniform. Watching as their now lifeless corpses fell down onto the soft grass laden ground, never to rise again.
"…Cease fire! All units cease fire, dammit!"
It was only with the sharp crackle of the radio, and the blaring of James's voice through her headphones did Darjeeling snap out of the trance like state she was in. She immediately let off the trigger. The infantry stopped firing. Everything was silent. Smoke emanated from the burning hot barrel. Only then, did she see the full extent of their work.
Piles of corpses littered the entire field. Countless bodies lay in heaps as the Germans advanced right into their line of fire. The wounded and the dying could be heard. Screaming, crying, begging to go home. The stench of death was all around them, lingering through the heavy, stagnant air, only punctuated by the anguished cries of those who were slowly slipping away. Blood trickled down the main road, bits of broken bone, body parts and disintegrated and bloodied skulls littered the area. It was then, Darjeeling realised what had happened. Her face turned an icy shade of white, and she looked down; her hands were pale, trembling and shaking.
"What have we done…?" Darjeeling whispered in a dreadful realisation.
Assam's eyes widened as she peered through the gunner's sights. Irene put her hands over her mouth in absolute shock and horror. Orange closed her eyes and sighed. They all fell silent, realising the carnage they had just committed.
Darjeeling, fighting back tears, slowly sat down in her seat, visibly shaken and traumatised. "What have we done?" She whispered again, as if in denial of what had just happened.
Assam sighed, putting an arm around her distressed colleague. "There was nothing you could've done, Darjey." She spoke gently. "You just followed orders." Orange nodded forlornly. Even though herself and Assam had seen such carnage before, they were by no means used to it.
Darjeeling nodded, wiping the tears away quickly. "I guess so. A real turkey shoot, it seems." She whispered, supressing the flow of tears welling up in her eyes. "Alright. Let's get our act together." She muttered shakily, just as the radio blared to life again.
"Some German armour and infantry have broken through the town around the left flank. Darjeeling, come with me to provide some cover." James ordered, swinging his tank around and heading towards the enemy.
"Roger that, sir." Darjeeling replied quickly. "Irene, follow James' Cromwell. Assam, keep your eye on a swivel. You are cleared to engage any target you see."
"Aye, Sergeant." Both women answered, and they soon made good progress towards the small village which lay within their protective box.
14th June, 1944. 1125 hours – British left flank around Amayé-Sur-Seulles.
Once arriving, they could see their comrades in trouble; a group of them were in a fighting retreat, running towards the tanks for cover as they took pot-shots at the enemy. A shell shrieked and exploded in front of some soldiers, their bodies contorting and disintegrating as they were blasted apart. The wounded, covered in blood, let out horrific screams of pain.
Darjeeling looked around. "That sounded like a high velocity gun, sir!" She shouted into the radio. "Irene, full reverse! We don't want to expose our side armour!" Darjeeling ordered, as the Firefly began to reverse back and behind a house.
"It's a Tiger. I'm going to flank its right." James exclaimed, his voice laced with a sense of urgency as several British troops fell meters from his tank riddled with machinegun bullets. "The 75mm gun on the Cromwell most likely won't penetrate. I need you to flank left and take a shot into its armour. I'll divert its attention for you."
"Roger that, Lieutenant." Darjeeling answered. "We must be quick! Let's go!" She shouted, as the Firefly lurched forwards once more, crawling towards the back of the village. "Orange, AP shell on the double!"
"Clear!" Orange shouted as she shoved a new shell into the breech of the gun.
"Assam, traverse right. If you see it, take the shot." Darjeeling ordered. The Firefly turned the last corner. She expected to see the Tiger tank baring down on them. However, this was not the case. "Where did the Tiger go?" She asked through, as James' Cromwell appeared on the other side of the village grounds. "It cannot be far off."
"Keep your eye on a swivel, Sergeant. It may pop out at any moment." James replied. "I advise caution."
"Roger that, sir. I'll hide the Firefly and try and set an ambush. He can't be far away." Darjeeling stated. As the Firefly reversed back to the cover of a house a few dozen meters from James' Cromwell, a tingly feeling came upon her. Something didn't feel right "Irene, idle the engine." She muttered. There were two houses on their two o'clock, separated by a rather large bush. Darjeeling couldn't help but think something was lurking behind it. "Assam, traverse the turret to our 2 o'clock. I'm guessing the Tiger is there." However, she couldn't be sure; if the Tiger was indeed there, they were in full view of it. The Tiger would've surely shot and taken them out by now. So, why hadn't it?"
"Where is that bastard?" James muttered.
"Lieutenant, be advised. There may be a Tiger lurking in the bushes at your 10 o'clock." Darjeeling muttered. "I'd-" She abruptly cut off her sentence as she saw what was unfolding a few dozen meters away. "James, look out!" She screamed into the radio, just as the Tiger rolled through the bush; its massive gun pointed at James' tank. However, her warning came seconds too late.
The Tiger fired.
Time slowed as Darjeeling watched in absolute horror as the shell impacted the Cromwell at supersonic speed. The sound of metal punching through metal, along with the shower of sparks was ear splitting. Moments later, flames erupted from the engine, and soon began to engulf the tank. One man climbed out of the commander's hatch, his clothing on fire, before jumping off and hitting the ground hard. He rolled around the ground, attempting to extinguish the fire slowly engulfing him. He was ultimately successful, but no sooner did the flames stop, he rolled over onto his front and became motionless.
It took a few moments for her to actually acknowledge what had actually happened. Only then, did rage, grief and hatred quickly consume her. "Assam, fire the fucking gun, now!" She screamed. Assam slammed her foot on the firing pedal, and the round exploded out of the barrel, hitting the lower glacis of the Tiger. Flames spewed out of its engine as it drove backwards in retreat.
"Again, hit the bastard! I want to see them burn alive!" Darjeeling yelled maliciously, all common-sense void from her soul as she focused on one thing only; the utter destruction of that Tiger.
"Darjey, the tank is knocked out." Assam reasoned, but Darjeeling wouldn't have any of it.
"I gave you an order, Assam!" She shouted. "I want that Tiger to be smouldering heap!" Assam sighed, and quickly fired another round into the Tiger. A massive jet of flames shot out of every crevice as the ammunition cooked off, resulting in the subsequent explosion which tore off the turret from the chassis, and landed with a loud crash next to the wrecked hull.
The inhabitants inside the tank fell silent. Darjeeling panted breathlessly, taking in fully what had just unfolded. She slumped into her seat, put her head into her hands and sighed, desperately trying to stifle tears welling up inside of her. But in the end, tears began flowing down her face. "James… He's… dead. Isn't he?" She mouthed, shaking badly as Assam wrapped her arms tightly round her distraught colleague.
"Shh…" She whispered, letting Darjeeling rest her head on her shoulder. "There was nothing you could've done… There are casualties in war…" Assam spoke gently. "You did your best." But Darjeeling only shook her head in reply, remaining silent throughout.
Irene turned around to face her superior. "Darjeeling, listen to her." She said, with a kind tone in her voice. "You've done your duty. James did too. I know that he would be so proud of you right now. But listen to me; you're our commander. I expect you to lead us, and give the Germans what for." Assam smiled.
"Awaiting your orders, Sergeant." She spoke, giving Darjeeling another warm, encouraging hug.
Orange nodded and loaded another shell into the cannon breech as Irene revved up the engine once more.
"Waiting for your command, Darjey."
Darjeeling wiped her eyes and breathed in deeply, exhaling shakily each time. "Okay…" She muttered, looking through her viewports from the commander's hatch. "Let's get out of here, for starters. Then, we need to resupply our shells and ammunition."
"Roger that Sergeant." Said Irene, and the Firefly rumbled into life once more, reversing out from behind the house. However, they had not gone more than a few yards when a shell screamed past them and hit the house they were behind, showering them with bricks and loose building materials as a large hole was made in the wall of the house.
Darjeeling whirled round. A Tiger was approaching their position from the main road. Its gun was pointed right at them. "Irene, full ahead now! We need to outrun its gun!" She shouted, all grief being replaced by a shot of fear and adrenaline. "Assam, traverse right! Engage that Tiger when I say!" As she ordered her crew, Darjeeling felt something familiar about that Tiger. "The commander…" She whispered. Then it dawned on her.
There. The commander of the Tiger. A woman dressed in black, her attire laced with medals and awards. Darjeeling growled, swinging her .50cal machinegun around and pressed the trigger; sending bullets streaking towards the Tiger. Seeing her adversary duck for cover, it was her time to strike. "Assam, now!" She shouted.
The latter stepped on the firing pedal, and the shell hit the right side of the turret ring with a loud clang and flash of sparks. The Tiger reversed, its coaxial machinegun firing at the Firefly. Darjeeling noticed something about it was wrong. "We jammed their turret." She spoke calmly, before looking down at Irene. "Let's get out of here. Quickly."
As they retreated from the village, Darjeeling sat down and sighed. She was tired, hungry and thirsty. But most of all, a part of her felt empty. She tried to push the feelings away, but in her fatigued state, tears fell down her cheek silently as she stifled her sobs. Putting her head into her hands, she cried silently into them; she'd lost the man she loved. However brief their love was, it was now all but destroyed.
The entire interior was silent; no one spoke a word. All of them felt helpless, empty. They all witnessed and experienced the brutality of war first hand. Assam sighed, putting her arms round a distraught Darjeeling, pulling her into a tight hug. "He'd be proud, you know?" She mouthed into Darjeeling's ear, attempting to comfort her.
The latter sighed. "But he's gone, isn't he?" She whispered. She couldn't bring herself to say the word 'dead'.
"Yes, Darjey. He's gone." Assam replied quietly. "But life will go on. It has to." Darjeeling nodded, and wiped her tears with her sleeve.
"I guess so." She shakily spoke.
"You do know there maybe a chance he's alive?" Irene quietly asked. However, seeing the death glare given to her by Assam, she quickly backed down, and stayed silent for the remainder of the journey.
However, Darjeeling had heard what Irene and said, and ignited a spark of hope within her. What if James was alive? What if he somehow survived? However, it was too early to tell.
14th June, 1944. 2235 hours – British Brigade Box perimeter at Amayé-Sur-Seulles.
"You go get the fuel, Irene. Orange and I will load the shells. Assam, please can you resupply the coaxial and turret machinegun?"
"Roger that, Sergeant."
As Assam and Irene's silhouette disappeared into the darkness of the night, Darjeeling climbed onto the turret of their Firefly. "Hand me the shells Orange." She ordered. "Time's a wasting."
In the dark, Orange fumbled around trying to open the crates holding the large 17pdr shells. Their tank, along with two other Cromwells, was parked behind a bush, overlooking the infantry lines several hundred meters ahead. That way, they could easily provide anti-tank support if enemy armour appeared. "Here you go, AP shells." For the last several hours, their unit were pulled back to safer lines, to provide support for the 1/7th Queens regiment. But for the last hour or two, the fighting had died down, giving them a brief respite.
"Cheers." Darjeeling spoke plainly, lifting one of the heavy shells, and placing it in the ammunition rack inside. Seconds later, the former hoisted another shell towards Darjeeling, who quickly grabbed it and placed it inside. This went on for another fifteen minutes, before they were abruptly interrupted.
"Sergeant Darjeeling?" A runner suddenly appeared, panting as he held a sheet of paper in his hands.
Darjeeling looked at the young lad and jumped down. "That's me." She muttered. "What is it, trooper?" She asked.
The man held out a piece of paper. "Message from Major Haldsworth. Your eyes only." He added, seeing Orange attempting to look at it. He then swung his Lee Enfield over his shoulder and walked off into the distance.
The former sighed, unfolding the piece of paper and slowly read its contents:
Lieutenant James Moore: Found. Wounded in Action. He will be transported to the nearest field hospital to undergo treatment.
You are now acting troop commander until further notice.
We are planning to withdraw our forces at around 2300 hours. The 5th Royal Tank Regiment and the 1/7th Queens infantry will be the rear guard.
Because of your outstanding actions over the last few weeks, and due to the fact we are in need of a temporary troop commander, your recommendations for a battlefield commission has been validated by high command. You are to be promoted to Second Lieutenant. Congratulations, and keep up the good fight.
Darjeeling gasped, her hand covering her mouth in shock. "James' alive!" She exclaimed, a sense of elation washing over her. Orange quickly came over and smiled brightly.
"That's great news!" She spoke, just as Irene and Assam came back; the latter carrying boxes of ammunition whilst Irene held two metal containers of fuel.
"What's great news?" Assam muttered, setting down the boxes onto the floor. Darjeeling grinned.
"James' alive." She simply spoke.
Assam's eyes widened. "…How do you know?" She whispered, as Irene breathed a sigh of relief. Darjeeling passed her the sheet of paper. Assam quickly took the sheet and read it, before chuckling quietly to herself. "That is amazing news!" She spoke, as Irene smirked.
"I told you." She replied cheekily. "The one who made it out; it was Lieutenant Moore." Irene then quickly took the sheet and read it for herself. "Hm. Look who's getting a battlefield commission." She spoke, looking at Darjeeling. "Second Lieutenant Darjeeling. Fancy."
"Wait, what?" Said a rather shocked Assam. Her face then broke into a smile as she turned to face her colleague. "Well, look at you. A Second Lieutenant, huh?" Darjeeling blushed as she saluted playfully.
Suddenly, the air was filled with the phrase "stand to!", shouted from the infantrymen up ahead. Darjeeling turned around.
"The Germans are about to counterattack!" She shouted, climbing onto the turret as she spoke. "Let's go! Quickly, inside!"
The rest of the crew clambered into the Firefly, and began to prepare the beast for battle.
"Sights, zeroed!" Assam shouted, as Orange quickly loaded an Amour Piercing shell.
"Clear!" She yelled, as the engine of the Firefly shuddered to life as Irene started the engine and revved up the gears. "Engine running as normal!"
"Awaiting your orders, Lieutenant." Assam spoke, the undertone in her voice cheekily highlighting the word 'Lieutenant'. Darjeeling shot her a bemused glance.
"I'm still a non-commissioned officer, so don't call me a Lieutenant." She spoke, fumbling for her binoculars. "Aha. The Germans have started their attack." As if on cue, the infantry began to fire into the night; their muzzle flashes lighting up their defensive lines as tracer bullets began streaking away and toward them. "Panzer IV at your 2 o'clock, at 300m." She stated.
"Light him up with the machinegun. I can't see him." Assam replied swiftly. Darjeeling quickly manned her machinegun and let off a quick burst of tracer rounds, each bullet striking the metal hull with a shower of sparks as the German infantry took cover behind it.
"Righty-ho, target sighted." Assam spoke. "Engaging now." She pressed the firing pedal, and the 17-pounder exploded into life, sending its deadly payload sailing straight into the hull of the Panzer IV, leaving a smoking hole where the solid Amour Piercing shot penetrated. She then fired her coaxial .30 cal machinegun, its many bullets hitting the Germans beside the knocked-out tank as they scrambled to take cover. She then quickly traversed the turret leftwards, and emptied another round into the accompanying Panzer IV.
The vicinity exploded with light as flames shot out of every crevice of the stricken tank, a column of fire spewing from its turret ring as the ammunition cooked off. The subsequent explosion caught a few soldiers within its blast, shredding each one with white hot metal shrapnel. Their screams of absolute agony could be heard above the chattering of machinegun and rifle fire.
Darjeeling took cover as a burst of machinegun fire sailed over her head, their green tracers whizzing through the air inches from her. They had taken out a few tanks already, but however many they killed, more came to replace the fallen "They're coming right at us!" She shouted, just as German artillery opened up on them; first came the distant thuds of the cannons, then the dreaded shriek as high explosive shells exploded within their vicinity. Several shells landed at the infantry lines, ripping flesh and bone apart as the shrapnel found their next victim.
"You need to hold the line!" A voice crackled through the radio. It was Major Haldsworth. "The other units have begun their withdrawal, our regiment and the 1/7th Queens must buy enough time for them to retreat!" Darjeeling nodded.
"Yes sir! We'll try our best!" She shouted, letting off another burst of machinegun fire into a group of panzergrenadiers who were closing the gap towards them. Their situation was worsening by the moment; The Germans were slowly breaking through the defensive line the British had established. Several British troops scrambled past their tank, only to be hit with German rifle fire. One rolled across the ground before stopping, his eyes staring upwards, whilst his face was covered in blood. Another group of soldiers were taken out by a Panzer IV's 75mm shell; the explosion tore off a man's arm, and he fell to the floor, writing and screaming.
"Orange, radio for artillery! I want them to focus their concentration up ahead from the lines!" Darjeeling shouted, firing off the last of her belt of ammunition. "I need some ammo, quickly!" She yelled, drawing out her revolver and dropping a German soldier with a single shot. He sprawled onto the ground, blood soaking his uniform.
"Roger that Sergeant!" Orange replied over the din as she first loaded another shell into the breech, before reaching down and grabbing a box of ammunition and handing it to Darjeeling.
The latter cursed as she fumbled with the belt of ammunition, ducking each time bullets whizzed past her head, or ricocheted on the hull of her Firefly. "Nur sterben, deutsche Schweine!" She yelled at the incoming Germans, before letting rip with the machinegun once more. She managed to cut down several panzergrenadiers, when a panzerfaust flew past their tank, missing it by inches.
"We need to fall back!" Assam shouted, unloading another shell into a Panzer IV on their left flank. It burst into flames, and the crew stumbled out, several screaming as the fires seared their flesh and bone. "At this rate, we'll be dead before midnight!" The remaining British soldiers began to fall back towards their position, firing behind their shoulders as they ran. But Darjeeling stood her ground.
"No!" She yelled. "We are the rear guard! We must allow the other units enough time to retreat!" The barrel of her .50 cal machinegun glowed red hot as hundreds of tracer rounds flew downrange, lighting up the night sky as many hit their mark.
A sudden shriek and explosion threw Darjeeling against the back of the commander's hatch. She felt a searing pain on her left cheek as a piece of shrapnel cut across her flesh. She watched in awe and amazement as the artillery shells flew practically over her head, and landed onto the field in front of them. A shell exploded downrange, cutting down German infantry as its white-hot fragments tore limbs off torsos, ripped heads in half and shattered bones and ligaments.
The British artillery barrage continued to bombard the area with shells, both smoke and high explosive, providing the remaining British soldiers a smokescreen in which to retreat from their battered lines. She shakily put her hand against her cheek; when she pulled it away from her cut, blood stained her pale, white fingers. However, she couldn't dwell on it. There were much more important matters at hand. Darjeeling suddenly snatched up her binoculars as she noticed a glint out of the corner of her eye.
"Assam, there's movement at our two o'clock!" She yelled. But the warning came too little too late; a shell screamed through the air, and impacted the Cromwell tank situated a dozen meters to her left. It instantly burst into flames, the orangey red light illuminating the area around them with a deathly, flickering red glow. In her heart, Darjeeling felt a pang of sadness. She'd lost another fine group of soldiers. A bond of friendship and camaraderie broken forever. However, gritted her teeth, and focused on the task ahead.
Assam looked around through her sights. "That was a high velocity shell!" She yelled.
"No shit!" Darjeeling replied, scanning the horizon for any movements. "Probably was a Tiger or a Panther." She pressed the rim of her binoculars hard against her face. It was hard to see anything in the pitch black of the night, let alone the silhouette of a German tank. Then she saw it. A large muzzle flash and the shell tracer. It landed a few yards in front of them, spraying mud and dust everywhere. "Irene, get us out of here!" Darjeeling yelled. "He knows where we are!" Suddenly, a voice crackled through the radio.
"Sergeant, do you need us to help?" The remaining Cromwell's commander asked.
Darjeeling shook her head. "That's a negative, corporal. I'll deal with the enemy tank. You go back and pick up the remaining troops. Tell the Major I'll pick up the last of the soldiers, and I'll make my way back."
"Roger that. Good luck ma'am." He replied. The Cromwell reversed away from the hedge, and rolled back towards their own lines, several soldiers jumping onto the tank to hitch a ride.
Darjeeling smiled, watching the Cromwell turn away into the night as the Firefly entered a crossroad. In truth, she'd be happy for the Cromwell to provide extra fire support with her. The only reason she sent the remaining Cromwell away was that she did not want to endanger anyone else's' lives apart from theirs. Tank hunting was a dangerous feat, let alone searching in the dark. "Irene, turn left if you please." She muttered. "I feel that the tank, whatever it is, is nearly upon us."
Assam looked up at her superior with slight concern as the Firefly roughly traversed left. "Shouldn't we wait here? It's a good ambush point." However, Darjeeling shook her head.
"We must strike while the iron is hot." She stated plainly. As her gunner attempted to make sense of the proverb, the Firefly continued its slow journey down the country road until they came across yet another junction. However, a sense of unease washed around Darjeeling. Something seemed to be lurking in the shadowy blackness.
"Irene, halt."
The tracks screeched as they shuddered to a halt. Darjeeling stuck her head out of the commander's hatch and looked around. The inky blackness of the night swirled around them making it difficult to see; her worst nightmare. The blackness was deceiving; her eyes would play tricks in the dark. She gasped and suddenly turned to her left. What she thought was the silhouette of a turret was only a mere hedgerow. She sighed, rubbing her eyes. "I can't see anything." She spoke, picking up her binoculars once more. However, something caught her eye again. Was that… movement? She blinked several times, and looked again.
Something was moving in the dark.
"Assam, potential target straight ahead. Something's moving." Darjeeling whispered, her voice dropping. "Irene, be prepared to get us out of here. Fast."
"Aye." She simply replied.
The young commander stared through her binoculars. Through the darkness, she made out a faint silhouette. Although not clear at first, it soon became evident what it was. "Panther at our 12 o'clock. Distance is unknown. Your call, m'dear, fire when ready." She spoke, putting a hand on Assam's shoulder.
Assam exhaled deeply, and lined up the silhouette in her gunner's sight. She slowly turned the elevation and traverse wheels, until she felt that the distance was correct. Her foot rested on the firing pedal; the tension inside the tank was palpable. She breathed deeply several times, making a few minute adjustments to the traverse as the Panther became ever closer.
She then pressed the firing pedal.
The immediate area flashed a bright orange light as the shell exploded out of the barrel, its tracer lighting its path as it glanced off the side of the Panther's turret in a shower of sparks. Darjeeling blinked.
"Traverse a bit to the right, quickly!" She ordered, as the Panther shot; its round came screaming overhead, only a few inches from Darjeeling's head.
"Clear!" Orange shouted, and Assam smashed her foot onto the firing pedal once more. This time, the shell hit the gun mantlet. Flames appeared to gush from the engine block; illuminating the area in a flickering, dancing light.
Darjeeling breathed a sigh of relief. "Our job here is done." She spoke. "Let's go." Irene nodded, and the Firefly rumbled to life, performing a U-turn and began to crawl down the road they just went up.
Whilst they travelled back towards their lines, the horizon lit up in flashes of orange and yellow, followed by the sound of distant explosions. Darjeeling looked up; although far away, the contrails of bombers could be seen streaking the night sky. She sighed, sitting down into her seat. She was exhausted. Physically and mentally. But their objective was not complete. They still had to pick up the remaining British troops.
"Sergeant Darjeeling, come in." The radio crackled into life again.
Darjeeling wearily put her headphones back on. "What is it, Major?" She asked slowly.
"There are some troops awaiting you near the village. Pick them up there. We're waiting for you." Major Haldsworth ordered. "The enemy attack has collapsed, and their forces have retreated from this area. Thus, our forces can retreat. You done a good job. Lieutenant Moore would've been proud. Over and out."
The former smiled and yawned, rubbing her eyes as they rolled into the village. There, several British soldiers, along with the remaining tanks of her armoured squadron were waiting. She looked down at the soldiers. "Do you men need a ride?" She asked, a fatigued, but spirited smile etched on her face.
"What does it look like, eh?" They grinned, and climbed on, one of them sitting on the turret, inches from herself.
In his command tank, Major Haldsworth breathed a sigh of relief. "Alright. Squadron, move out."
Darjeeling, half-awake herself, managed to shakily light a cigarette, and held it in her corner of her mouth. She looked at the village they had left a few moments ago; even now the darkness had already swallowed it up. She looked up at the soldiers. All of them were asleep, several were even perilously close to falling off the tank. She smiled faintly. They were all as tired as she was. Still…
"It could've been much, much worse." She whispered. Her mind replayed the moment James' Cromwell was hit. The flames. The carnage. The lifeless body of him lying on the cold hard ground. Darjeeling sighed. In a sense, she was happy that James had been found, and that he would be treated at a hospital. However, in his absence, she had to be the one issuing orders, and be the troop commander until he got back. A position she felt she wasn't ready for. But in the end, she was deemed ready, whether she liked it or not.
Shuffling slightly, she took a drag from the cigarette, and closed her eyes. She didn't need to worry about that right now. All she wanted was to rest. Only afterwards, would she get herself up to speed with the current events. "I needn't worry about all this too much." She whispered to herself, whilst exhaling and allowing her body to relax.
"At least we've all survived to fight another day."
14th June, 1944. 2350 hours – German lines around Villers Bocage.
"You sure Erika will be alright?" Erwin asked.
Maho, with a cigarette between her fingers, nodded slowly. "She'll live." She muttered. They were outside the triage station, where Erika was being treated for injuries she sustained earlier on that day. "The shrapnel from the spalling wasn't that big. But a few pieces got stuck in her eye. Luckily, we have an eye specialist here. If he didn't work on her as soon as we got back, she'd be blind in one eye." She spoke coldly. "Apart from that, the horizontal turret drive is completely destroyed by the shell. We need to get it fixed as soon as possible. Which means taking another Tiger out of combat. That's nearly ten of our Tigers that are not operational."
Both women sighed. They were both tired, hungry, and thirsty. Erwin adjusted her cap and smiled faintly. "Still, look on the bright side of things. All your crew are still alive."
Maho rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but Erika's eye injury is going to decrease out combat efficiency. And we can't afford to sustain heavy losses now. Especially when the Allies are so close to breaking through. We need-" She cut her sentence short as she noticed her younger sister approaching them.
"Oberleutnant Ketler. Hauptmann Brandt." She greeted them softly.
Maho turned to face her. "You alright, Miho?" She asked, a soft, motherly tone in her voice, as Erwin nodded in acknowledgement of her greeting.
She nodded. "Yeah. My company took another casualty. Klaus. His Panther was hit. No one survived."
Maho sighed again, brushing her fringe away from her eyes. "That's unfortunate." She spoke, putting a protective arm round her sister and pulling Miho towards her.
"I heard Erika was injured. What happened?" Miho questioned.
"Maho's Tiger was hit. The spalling damaged the turret drive, and Erika took some shards in the process." Erwin explained. Seeing Miho's look of concern, Erwin gave her a small smile. "It's nothing too serious; she'll be alright with a few days of rest."
"That's if we're not rushed out to combat." Maho scoffed.
Erwin shot her a frown. "I wonder how Karla is doing, hm?" She wondered out loud, attempting to change the direction the conversation was going. Miho's eyes immediately lit up.
"Is she around?" She asked. "I've never met her before."
Maho shook her head. "No, Miho. Karla's still fighting on the eastern front. She wasn't transferred to Normandy, like we were. But," She added, seeing her younger sisters' face fall slightly. "I'm sure we'll be able to meet her, sooner or later."
Miho nodded enthusiastically, before looking around. "I better get going. I need to service my Panther." She quickly saluted Erwin and Maho, before quickly disappearing into the night.
Once she was out of earshot, Maho sighed. "You miss her? Karla." She spoke. Erwin nodded.
"Yeah. I wonder what she's up to from time to time." She whispered, taking out a cigarette and lighting it. "I do wish she is having a somewhat easier time than we are."
Maho smiled faintly and nodded, chucking her lit cigarette onto the floor and stamping it out.
"Yeah. I sure hope she is."
15th June, 1944. 0045 hours – Nowe Kazary, Poland.
Boots squelched through the mud, towards a figure sitting down next to a small campfire, along with several other soldiers. The only female there was busy writing. Her pen poised to put her thoughts onto paper. She sighed, whilst staring into the depths of the dancing flames, as if asking for inspiration. What to write? Slowly, she began to formulate her ideas into the small, battered notebook:
15th June, 1944.
We've halted at Nowe Kazary for the time being. The battalion is to rest and refit. We've been in constant combat for the last three months. Battalion morale is low. I wander why; we have retreated over 200km in the last two months. Our casualty numbers are increasing drastically. Only yesterday, twelve crewmen were killed in a katyusha rocket barrage, and two Tigers were knocked out in the subsequent Russian attack.
We are back to where we started. Three years ago, we were at the gates of Moscow, anticipating a mighty German victory. Now, we are ever closer to our fatherland than ever before. Every day, we give ground to the Soviets. Every day, more of our comrades die in a futile war that is yet to claim more innocent German lives.
They say leadership is the greatest burden of combat. You are trained to lead. Trained to lead your comrades effectively and efficiently. But when you see your fellow soldiers die, you begin to wonder; Where are you leading them to? A path of glory, like you were told? Or a path that only ends in pain, suffering and death?
War. It changes a person. No matter how hard they try to resist, it becomes part of them. You strive to not lose yourself; you try to find your morality. To try to see the evil within our ways. But after enduring years of hardship… all rationality falls apart. Piece by piece, you lose the battle within yourself, until it conquers you fully.
This war has taken everything away from me; My loved ones, my comrades, my happiness, my sanity. Right now, only my loyalty for the Fatherland is sustaining my mortal soul, and my dying urge to survive and see my friends who are fighting on the Western Front.
The days of easy victories are over. We fight how our fathers fought in the last days of the Great War. Are we destined the same fate? There is no turning back. The outcome is inevitable now.
Above all, we have a nation to defend. And I will fight till the end.
If I am killed tonight, tomorrow, or in the future, I can only hope that my friends will mourn my passing. But they should be proud. For my service and honour to the fatherland will be complete.
Oberleutnant Karla Brun.
She mouthed the words, slowly reading what she had written in her mind. Afterwards, she quickly stuffed her notebook back into her pocket. She daren't let anyone catch a glimpse of the material she'd written. Woe betide if her superiors found it; she'd be arrested and shot for defeatism in a blink of an eye. Rubbing her eyes dazedly, she inched closer towards the fire.
"What chance do we have?" A soldier next to her asked. Karla sighed.
"The Allies have landed in Normandy. We have the Russians no more than a few kilometres away." She muttered, watching the three soldiers walk towards her as she spoke. "We have to fend off the Russians on our own." Smirking a little, she then looked at him. "We are only retreating from here on out." She spoke as the three tank crewmen stopped in front of her.
"Excuse me, Oberleutnant. What are we going to fight?" One of them asked. Only then, did Karla notice how young they were; the eldest looked no more than eighteen. The replacements had gotten much younger recently. There was at least one sixteen year old among them.
"Will the Russians attack first?" The latter smirked.
"Of course, not. We are superior. The German Wehrmacht will always attack first." His gaze then fell onto Karla. "The Fuhrer says we will stabilise this front, then destroy those Bolshevik monsters by Christmas."
The soldier sitting next to Karla scoffed. "Oh, did he mention which century's Christmas?" The trio frowned, as those around the campfire chuckled at the remark.
"You're undermining military morale. You're a defeatist." The tallest one muttered.
Karla stood up, her blue eyes staring at the three young soldiers. "That does not matter right now." She looked down at her watch. "Boys, you better run along and get some rest. It's late." The latter opened his mouth to protest, but seeing Karla's gaze, he gave in. He gestured for the others to follow.
Karla frowned. "You're supposed to say: Goodnight, Oberleutnant." She muttered. "Basic respect, is it not?"
The three turned around. "Goodnight, Oberleutnant." They spoke, before disappearing into the darkness once more.
The soldier next to Karla stayed silent momentarily, before chuckling to himself. "Replacements…" He muttered, as the latter forced a smile.
"So eager, yet so young." She responded, looking down at her boots; they were filthy and covered in dirt and grime. When was the last time she had a proper change of clothes? The mud squelched underneath her boots as she stood up. She remembered the glorious ideals that ran through her head all those years ago; ones that a Panzer tank crewmen would be a respected and admired role within the Wehrmacht. Now, all those thoughts were fully extinguished after years of bitter conflict.
"Oberleutnant Brun?" A voice sounded from the darkness.
"What is it?" Karla replied slowly.
"Hauptmann Von Beschwitz would like to see you."
Karla nodded and straightened up her attire. "Alright. Thank you." She stated plainly, before heading to the hut which made up the battalion headquarters.
Once inside, Karla knocked onto the door, and slowly walked in. "You wanted me, Hauptmann?" She asked cautiously, as a soldier closed the door behind her. The solitary figure, standing with his back to her, turned around. He was a rather young man, his black attire dotted with various medals and awards.
"Yes, Oberleutnant. Firstly, I want to congratulate you. I have received a letter, highlighting that the Fuhrer has approved the decision for you to receive the Knights Cross of the Iron Cross, for your outstanding leadership and bravery in the face of the enemy during the last six months." He smiled faintly, and extended his hand. "Congratulations, Oberleutnant Brun. You are one of the few within this Battalion to receive this prestigious award."
Karla smiled gently. "Thank you, Hauptmann." She replied softly. Her superior nodded.
"Secondly, I want you to perform a task for me. Someone of your calibre should be able to do it." He spoke, his voice going rather curt and cold.
"And what might that be?" Karla asked quickly.
"I need you to execute the Commissar we've captured. We've interrogated him, but he is a blind fanatic. We cannot let him go to a POW camp." Seeing the look on Karla's face, he sighed. "Remember, Karla, this is not just any old war. It is a different war. An ideological war as well as a land war. National Socialism must prevail against the likes of Bolshevism and against the Communist Jews who support them. Are you clear?"
Karla sighed. She didn't have a choice. Whether she liked it or not, the deed had to be done. "Yes sir." She whispered. "I shall see to it immediately."
Walking towards the hut that housed the prisoners, a barrage of thoughts ran through her head. Was this the right thing to do? Karla sighed dejectedly. The act in itself is wrong, but does it even matter anymore? She'd already killed countless of soldiers alike. Would an extra death through an execution make any difference?
"This, this is different." Karla mouthed, looking at the guard as he opened the door to the hut. As she walked into the room. Three Soviet soldiers sat in on the cold, splintered wooden floor. She looked for a red star and a golden hammer and sickle sown onto ones' sleeves; the sign of a political commissar. Her eyes fell onto the man, before dragging him up onto his feet.
"Vstavay!" She spoke forcefully, pushing the commissar forwards. Her Russian wasn't as good as Maho's, but she had learned quite a few phrases here and there. She looked at the commissar; he was a young man, but surprisingly, he did not put up a fight. His brown eyes stared straight towards the floor as he was shoved. "Nachnite khodit." Karla spoke again, and the man slowly began walking out of the hut, directed by Karla.
She led him out into a nearby forest, before finally stopping. She kicked the leg of the man, and he fell to the ground onto his knees. Karla sighed, taking out her pistol slowly from its holster. She then pointed it squarely at the commissar's head, breathing deeply as to steady her aim. She knew the deed needed to be done, but her mind prevented her finger from pulling the trigger. Karla's moral compass still remained. However, she looked past the figure kneeling down in front of her. Her face set and her hand steadied.
She pulled the trigger.
The crash of the shot echoed around the forest as the man jarred upwards, spraying Karla with red as he quickly slumped onto the soft mud, where he lay motionless. A chunk of his head missing thanks to the force of impact from the bullet.
The lone female officer stayed motionless for a moment. Blood spattered her face as she slowly placed her pistol back into its holster. A drop of blood ran down her cheek, almost as if it were her tears. But Karla knew not to allow emotions to get the better of her. Not anymore.
A faux sense of no remorse emanated from her as she turned around and headed back towards the village. Her face was pallid, the red colour of freshly spilt blood juxtaposing with the pale greyness of her face. She tried to wipe the blood off her face, desperate to be rid of any trace of the man, but only succeeded in spreading the red onto her hands. As she walked however, the façade she put on slowly began to crumble. She could feel the tears welling up inside of her. "What am I, a monster?" She whispered to herself whilst nearing the dancing flames of the campfire once more.
"What have I become?"
Notes:
It's been a long time since I've updated, due to College commitments, but its now done. Thank you all for waiting so patiently~ I hope this chapter will do itself justice.
This may most likely be the last update this year. I have exams in about a week's time, so any writing for the next chapter will begin around January 2017.
So, with that said, I wish you all a very merry Christmas and a happy new year~ See you all in 2017! ^o^
Anyways, I hope you've enjoyed this chapter. Translations for any German (And Russian) dialogue will be shown below (May not be 100% accurate. I am not a native German/Russian speaker, nor do I study German/Russian xD so please correct me if they are inaccurate in any way)
"Nur sterben, deutsche Schweine!"= Just die, German pigs! (German)
"Vstavay!"= Get up! (Russian)
"Nachnite khodit."= Start walking. (Russian)
As always, any reviews with constructive criticism would be welcome.
If you've enjoyed what you've read, and want to know what happens next, or if you're just interested in my writing, don't hesitate to favourite and follow! It also helps me to know whether you find what I'm writing enjoyable.