Somewhere else

It had been, Bloch mused, harder than expected to awe the playwrite, or as he effectively now was, screen writer. He also grudgingly found himself admiring him, to the extent he had broached the idea of representing Sierck in Germany. If this idea with Rammstein came off it would become quite a lucrative situation for all. However hard it had been for him to awe Sierck, Till and the others had done so, and to an extent, he had done likewise to them.

Not that this helped him in any way, shape or form with the department of defence.
"Dear Mr Bloch,
Thank you for your e-mail, unfortunately due to a developing situation we are unable to allow any vistors to the quarry or it's surrounding area. We have furnished the Department of Culture with the details you have requested which should be forwarded on to you shortly.
As you will no doubt understand from the news broadcasts it is utterly impossible to guarentee the safety of any party wishing to visit the area, and any attempt to do so will have to be unsupported by any German forces in the area.
Once this situation is resolved we will be happy to assist you in your endeavours.

Regards,
Albert Blutroch
Senior Clerk
Permits and Admissions
Ministry of Defence"

Joachim had read and re-read the e-mail. His contacts in the department of culture had been as much use as a chocolate coffee pot. "we have to accept the advice of defence at the moment, no, we don't know exactly what is going on here" - the same pointless bleeting.

"Trudi, can you get me the number of that security company we spoke to about the tour of the Empire please". If the Bundeswehr couldn't help, maybe the private sector could...

Sametime, elsewhere in Berlin.

Remembering to answer in German, Detlef Sierck picked up the phone as it rang.
"Hallo, hier ist Sierck"
"Herr Sierck, Hier ist Christian Lorenz, we spoke a few days back"
"Herr Lorenz, please, call me Detlef, what can I do for you today"?
"Christian, please. I have been reading the news papers and I have been pondering an idea. The idea of making a musical film about the fight at the quarry, could we expand on this? With the news from Middenheim of the plague and the Chaos horde advancing, I do wonder if the three events are linked. If they are, then should we look to link also"?
Detlef was quiet for a moment, "But could such a thing be done as a musical film, would it be too long"?
"Depending on what we cover and in how much depth, we could make a full feature of it, in musical terms, it would be a double album but probably not much longer than our usual show time. We should aim for a running time of no more than 3 hours"

"Only 3 hours? You wouldn't have many intermissions in that time, the full production of Drachenfels was 5 hours".
"You really do not think small do you Detlef"
"Never"! Detlef laughed with Lorenz "Small is no challenge - anyone can do that, Epic is where the challenge lays"
"I believe you are correct. Oh, we have the first demo of the Quarry song, we are thinking Himmelsstein, and it will centre on the view of one of the miners at the quarry"
"I will be please to listen to it, I think the script should suit it well"
"Thank you for your time Detlef, I will ring you agains soon, goodbye"
"You're welcome. Goodbye".

20 Kilometers North of Middenheim, Outskirts of Chaos Camp

The axe was driven with inhuman force and perfectly aimed at the neck of the Champion of Khorne by his opponent. It was not intercepted but barely deflected by the haft of his opponent`s weapon who managed to lift the path of the axes head enough so it grazed the helmet instead of taking a life. Rotating the handle of his axe forward the defender ruthlessly exploited the opening and drove the spike at the bottom of his weapon through the eye slit of his duel partner.
Incredibly his victim went to his knees but remained upright instead of falling, exposing his neck in the finest tradition of the Blood Gods chosen. Sweeping his axe around just so and striking with abandon the winner took the head of his enemy in one strike that parted gorget as well as flesh and bone. Holding the grisly trophy towards an unseen sky a formerly human voice dedicated his victory to his patron God "Blood for the Blood God, Skulls for his throne."

The moves of this duel had been so quick that normal human eyes could have hardly followed them yet Archaron had not been strictly human for quite a while now. He nodded approvingly at the victor and then looked to the next fighting pit where a similar scene was played out. The Champions of Khorne were competing for the honor of ascension, of becoming an avatar of their God. That the rests of their former minds would likely be subsumed by the demon they would be host to was no matter for them at all. A couple of more rounds would reduce their number to the point where Khorne would show his favor to his chosen ones.

The astonished shouts and less savory sounds behind him made Archaron turn to the scene of his last duel again. The Champion who had just so proudly presented the token of his victory was in the grip of Shakes. Blood was running from the eye slits of his helmet and his screams were wetly muted by more of it. Terrible force rent his armor apart and revealed an ever growing physique.
So soon-how would Khorne pick the targets of his favor, there were surely still far too many Champions left? The screams from other parts of the Great Armies camp indicated that something unusual was taking shape. At the same time the less mundane senses he had acquired over the centuries revealed that rifts opened into what humans called reality and hordes of beings emerged to this world.
The all-pervading fog that hid his army and the battlefield made him work to discover what had really taken place. He found that despite all the centuries he had spent he still had a sense of awe and wonder. Whatever had made Khorne sit up and take notice had done so in a big way.

Legions of bloodletters formed up in great blocks, hiding the muddy ground with huge red bodies, Horns and canine faces. Wielding weapons that few mortals could lift let alone fight they screamed their hunger and hate to the world. This immense army was not what inspired awe in Archaron.
Juggernauts of Khorne showed steel and brass were lesser steeds had flesh and bone. Higher than even than the huge Chaos General they were ridden by Chaos Champions of great might, many of them no longer mere humans. Neither they nor the Flesh Hounds that were running around threating everybody and everything could make the Warlord pause in wonder.

Even his sharp senses had difficulty to see past the immense chest of the Bloodthirsty in front of him and make out its bull-like features. He could not see very far but the forest of legs showed the presence of many of these most mighty of all Greater Demons. Called by many names the Demons were many times greater than any man, some exceeding 12 meters. Equipped with wings strong enough to lift even their titanic mass and of such ferocious sight that they instilled horror in even the stoutest defenders. Armed with axes that could rend a ship apart and a whip capable to ripping the living flesh from a platoon of armored humans they were said to be the equivalent of an ordinary human army-each of them.
The presence of so many of them, of more at the same time that any legend or forgotten Grimoaire hinted at made Archaron stand fixed in awe and wonder. It was indeed the end times-this was when the forces of Chaos extinguished the eternal flame, when the Fimbulwinter took the land and when the human gods would no longer have a claim in this world.

Walls of Middenheim, some hours later

The soldiers that passed by Count Boris were marching in good step. Even on the parapet of the Middenheim walls they managed to keep formation and saluted smartly when they passed his observation post. Still, the grey-green uniforms donated by the Germans were as alien to him as the slender repeating "Karabiner" that the armsmen had been issued. They had shown all the qualities you could ask for in common soldiers and the range and firepower of their weapons was out of question. Yet the idea of huge amounts of commoners as an important part of the army did not sit well with the Count nor the strange ideas and tactics the new allies brought.

After the last soldier of the unit passed he turned again to watch the amorphous fog that hid so much of the valley in front of Middenheim from his view. The Germans said that they could penetrate the fog with something called radar and in part by something else they called "infrared" but still the enemy remained unseen. Fog and distance conspired to alter the sounds from that army but the dissonant horns and shouts could not overwhelm the bestial screams of unseen horrors.
The binocular he had been given could show him the dispositions of the Germans, at least partly. They were occupying the ridges on both sides of the valley that led to Middenheim from the North. Most of them were on the distant side of the heights, hidden from the Enemy by Woods and hills. Those who were facing the enemy hid themselves in dugouts and by using twigs and grasses. He would never state so openly but he disdained these soldiers who would not face their enemies openly. It had been explained to him that in their old world any soldier and any machine of war that could be seen could be killed and would be in short order-but so what? As long as you killed more of them as they killed that was fine-wasn`t it?

He found his reverie interrupted by the steps of another human that should not have been here-how could he pass his guards. Turning with a hand on his Warhammer he faced the nondescript figure of that German functionary, Ottokar Proktor. He had known even before the events around the Chaos spy ring that this German was far more that a faceless pusher of paper and the following events had proven his suspicions. He had similar men in employ-void of all notions about fair play with the enemy, honesty or empathy they were dangerous tools to be used when circumstances demanded and disowned when detected. But even compared to these the German was frightening-his façade showed a jovial disorganized bureaucrat to the world while his eyes missed nothing. No courageous warrior him to face the enemy, but the knife in the night, the poison in the wine, the rumor that destroyed the reputation and the subtly altered report that made the ruler act. And he seemed to be without most of the funny notions these Germans had about applying the question to ones enemies or simply killing when necessary without discussing things to no end.

"Good afternoon Herr Proktor. Do you want to see what your machinations have wrought?"
"My machinations? Please dear Count, I am just a small cog in.."
"Spare me. You have used me and mine like one of your machines and now the results come due. Are you now happy with this? An army second to none is before my city. None of your soldiers are between Middenheim and this army that will lay bloody siege to us all-why did you want this."
"In my world a ruler once had the wish that all of his enemies had one throat so he could cut it in one go. What our campaign of disinformation has wrought is exactly that-it has given our enemy one throat. There they are-all in one place, hemmed in by the walls of your great city and the Bundeswehr on both flanks. They are precisely where we want them to be."
"One of these days somebody has to teach you and yours about the danger of overcomplicated plans. What if the enemy does not act as you think?"
"As we stated in the briefing about that we have had the main body of the enemy under aerial observation for practically all time. If he would have delayed or went another way we could have adapted."
"From your mouth to Ulrik`s Ear. So what are you doing up here?"
"The Arty boys want to do something about the fog, this would give me the first personal sight of the enemy."
"Hope you like it"

As in on cue the hammering of the German guns drowned out the sounds of the Chaos army. Bright lights above the Chaos Army indicated where the artillery shells used for ranging were ignited so that they would not warn the enemy. The tracks they made on the guns phased array-radar was sufficient to show the needed corrections and the fall could not have been observed anyway.
The pause for corrections was nearly imperceptible and the guns each fired a minute-long fire mission that dropped more than 2 tons of steel into the target area. Actinic lights lit up the fog showing that they had at least hit something.
As the fog ran out of reasons to exist in a sane universe it went even quicker than it had come, lifting its veil over the battlefield all at once, going from totally obscuring via translucence to not even there in a minute. Both ruler and spy watched the spectacle silently, first as there was nothing to comment and then as the sight was not what they expected.
"Oh my…."

OP/LP on the left flank of Middenheim Valley

Corporal Jan-Eric Huber was no so sure what he was doing here. Like some other elsewhere he and his fellow soldier were manning a foxhole a couple of hundred meters from the ridgeline occupied by the German forces. Their job was to watch everything the enemy did and report back via the wireless. What made the mission so far senseless in the best tradition of many armies was that the fog prevented seeing the enemy or anything else in front of them. Even sound was an unreliable medium. Much of what they heard changed direction and intensity with such frequency that it was clear that everything they heard was highly distorted. It was best not to heed to the sounds too closely-madness lay there. On the other hand their ears were the only thing that might provide some warning.
Somewhere far behind them ground radar was probably getting some data but they could only die heroically, giving some warning to the troops behind them.

The Corporal had his own method to deal with the threatening madness. While he listened as well as he could his fingers moved rosary pearl by pearl while he silently went through then words of the prayers he had learned in a world now gone. The routine soothed the mind immensely. He heard the artillery to his right and wondered what they might fire at. Not long after that the fog lifted with supernatural speed and finally revealed the source of the sounds that had pressed at his mind.
He never felt that he soiled his pants, never realized that he called out to a God that might be there or not nor heard the semi-sane babbling of his comrade on the wireless. His mind was filled solely by the sight of the Devil and his minions. A Grand Demon in the valley below his listening post made indeed a good stand-in for the Satan that had filled his fantasy when the priest had spoken about him when Huber was at an impressionable age. Red-furred, huge, horned and of Bestial visage it had a presence that was far too mighty just to be called "evil". This being just was and his needs were supreme over the wishes of pure mortals-who were they to try to apply their childish rules on it.
His fellow soldier had to pull him out of the foxhole and force him to run to the German lines. Slowed down by the Corporal who had clearly lost his wits they were both caught by a pack of Flesh Hounds and ripped apart about 200 meters before they reached their own lines.
Luckily for the Germans they were not the only scouts and there were other methods to gain information. All along the ridgeline troops ran forward to man prepared positions and Combat vehicles started their engines before moving out.

The scene that greeted them seemed to come out of a Bosch painting. Red-clad horrors covered the plain before them, screaming their hate and hunger to the world. Charging the first enemy they saw was their nature, so without deliberation or command Khorne`s best stormed the hills that were defended by the Germans.
They were met by a firepower that would have stopped a human assault of similar size in its tracks. Dozens of machine guns poured streams of tracers into demonic flesh. Less numerous but individually aimed rounds from hundreds of assault rifles went through whatever armor there was with ease and blew craters in the back sides of their targets. Grenades exploded between the attackers, mangling legs beyond any hope of repair and dropping the victims on the ground.
Yet, this was not a human army. Being of a different flesh the Bloodletters shrugged off hits that would kill any human. Units that had lost most of their members assaulted as if they were attacked by puffballs. The grisly sight of opened belly and smashed limbs only drove the survivors onwards without any regard for their safety willing to take bloody revenge to the injuries done to their peers. They were taking serious losses, even these brutes could sense that but they also saw that there were only a few hundred meters between them and the humans that dared to attack them from such a range. Now they were bled but it would be nothing compared to the slaughter they would wreck when they reached their enemy.

Walls of Middenheim, same time

Count Boris still had the luxury to watch the battle without the need to take command. The much-enhanced Chaos army had been a rude shock when it was revealed but the newly arrived Khornates had immediately assaulted the ridgelines to both sides of the valley to the total exclusion of anything else. The main body of the Chaos army was impressive, human warriors of all shapes and stages of mutation shared the battlefield with demon-infested war machines ready to attack the walls of his fortress. Banner which should not be observed too closely flew over armored figures that had probably not be see outside of their carapaces for centuries. Multicolored lights shown sickly over mages who had exchanged their mastery of all winds of magic for their sanity, never regretting the exchange. A huge mob of Orcs covered the right side of the field with uncountable bodies all ready to wage battle for the fun of it. These forces advanced but more cautiously, paced by the slowest members of the army.

The Count of Middenland watched the Khornates assault on the Germans on the left flank with interest. He knew from personal experience that these troops could install fear and panic in their victims even before they attacked. He was still not sure about the German troops who preferred to hide and generally to attack from afar. Any mention of the honesty of a cold steel attack just made them look at him askance.

To his relief the Germans stood and fought. Whether this had something to do with the fact that they started attacking when the enemy was really far away and they simply kept at it or if they simply had the guts he could not decide but that they fought was enough. And the fearful slaughter that the Germans inflicted on the attackers was inspiring to the Count who started to see the Germans with different eyes.
Khornes troops were charging up the hillside with vigor until they reached the silver line of the stuff the Germans called barbed wire. It had seemed to be so flimsy when he had inspected the line but somehow it held and caused the enemy to bunch up in front of it. Even from this distance he could see trashing Bloodletters and Flesh Hounds trapped in the wire ripping themselves grievous injuries when they tried to free themselves. Pushed by the back ranks they were trampled under the hooves of their comrades into bloody paste all the while the Germans poured fire into the mess like never before. Hundreds of small and big explosions devastated the horde, strings of tracers tore down ranks upon ranks of the demons front.
It looked like the Chaos offensive would be halted there and then when a group of Grand Demons joined the assault. A group of Demons – nobody had heard of such a thing before and it would have been a fearful sight if they would not have been targeted by the German heavy weapons. Fountains of blood showed that even these creatures were not immune to the attacks by the Counts strange allies. It was a sight to behold-until 3 of the Demons flapped wings that could have sheltered a small village and took flight. Landing in the middle of the vehicles they laid about with their huge axes.

Walls of Middenheim, same time

Ottokar Proktor was livid with anger, a lot of it directed at himself. How could he and how the others who hatched this plan could forget that this was another world. The fact that an army did contain so-and-so many beings 48 hours ago did not mean that it could not swell to a much larger size until now-and the newcomers might be the most dangerous members of said army too.
He just had to hope that the plan had enough "give" and that it still worked. It should, but the sight of so many supernatural beings at the same time shook him more than he was willing to let on.

While he tried to get his bearings back he watched a trip of Great demons attack several "Fuchs" personal carriers from close range. One of the Bloodthirsters had smashed his axe so deeply into the front of one of the transports that he had to push at it with his right leg to get it out again. He had already bisected the gunner with his whip, even when the machine gun did not seem to do him appreciable harm. Having finally freed the axe from the armor it had pierced the Demon kicked the vehicle several times till it rolled over to its side. Dashing in the bottom of the combat car the demon released his whip to push in his hand and to extricate the remains of its crew.

Another Fuchs was burning while laying on its side while the third armored transport drove in circles trying to keep its distance from its two pursuers', firing its machine gun for all it was worth. Having sated its first hunger the 3rd Bloodthirster took off for a short flight that stopped the mad curving of the last German vehicle short and pierced the windows in the front with a well-aimed axe stroke.
Rearing up and screaming its triumph into an uncaring sky the Demon silhouetted himself too well. Two missiles fired from a far-off Boxer hit him at both sides of his spine and their plasma jets emerged in the front of him, burning everything in the Demon`s chest. Autocannon fire blew great globs of otherworldly flesh of the other two. Finding the challenge irresistible the two Bloodthirsters took to the air again and tried to close with the more interesting enemies.

At the same time the assault on the German positions had reduced the fire that was poured into the lesser Bloddletters and their Flesh Hounds that were bunched up in front of the S-Wire. Somebody on the German side was on the ball as Ottokar watched with satisfaction the huge explosions that walked over the horde of Khornates. The artillery again showed why they were here.
The spy saw that several Bloodthirsters started to move in that direction-he could just hope that there were forces to intercept them.

250 Kilometers from Altdorf, 10000 Meters AGL B52 "Grey Lady" same time

When Colonel Kozlowski looked out through the left cockpit window he could see a starkly beautiful and deadly plane holding station slightly above and behind his bomber. This was as it should be-the close escort he had been promised had shown up on time. 4 Eurofighters were now accompanying the aging warplane on its way to battle. Well, if the Germans did things by the book it was on fitting if he did the same.

"Crew, this is the Captain. We are nearing Indian country, so give me a station check and stay sharp.
"Captain, Co-pilot here. All 8 are burning, all systems nominal"
"Captain, Nav here: By INS and triangulation were are track and on time."
"Captain, Radar Nav. I concur with Nav about position and all systems are nominal, but I have yet to pick up our beacons. Our side works, the ground-pounders have not yet started to transmit."
"Captain, guns here. All systems are green and the EO picks up the escorts just fine. The gun is tracking as well, but I do not think the fighter jocks are happy."
"Guns, Captain here-stop playing around. These guys are supposed to keep our asses from the frying pan."
"Wilco"

The Grey Lady had gotten her tail gun back. While there would have been enough 20 mm M61 guns around from old Phantoms the actuators and radar had been eliminated as well. As a substitute a MLG 27 27 mm autocannon had been made to fit. While it did not bring its own radar it had Electro-Optics and laser ranging for fire control and it had plenty of firepower as well. The gun was serviced by the former Electronic Warfare officer as most of his equipment had been removed from the plane. There was nothing it could be used on in this blighted world. His place had been taken by the only newcomer to the crew. The young imperial just loved flying and did his best to fit in. Still, to the air force officers raised on a muscular kind of Christianity his job seemed …wrong at the very least. But without him there was a danger to the Grey Lady and the mission so they accepted him.

"Captain, MWO here. All wards are in place and all indicators work. There is a strong concentration of magic at 192 degree, probably the Imperial Academy at Altdorf. There are several other magic users but all low key. Nothing aimed at us at present."
The Grey Lady was the only bomber which ever had such a specialist on board, yet they still had made a new acronym for him. Felix Berggarten was the first MWO, the Magic Warfare Officer in history, whether there would be other ones depended on the outcome of this mission in more ways than just one
"Ok folks, stay sharp and stay tight, we have an invitation to a barbeque."

Eurofighter 012, close to Middenheim, 5000 meters AGL, same time

Colonel Hoppe led the 12 Fighters from the 31st Fighter Wing "Boelke" that were tasked to clear the skies above the Middenheim Battlefield. The intense furball over the Quarry had made the planners at the Reiksbund sit up and take notice that there was more of an air threat than the Luftwaffe staff had acknowledged before. Therefore Andreas Hoppe had more than enough fighters to fulfill his mission.
Switching the radar of his plane to the air search mode he first believed that the normally reliable electronics had a malfunction: numerous targets cluttered the MFD at low attitude but definitively flying. Bringing his 12 planes did not seem like such overkill than a minute ago.
Radar and his electrooptics revealed a hodgepodge of enemy fliers-Wyrms and some surviving Dragons flew towards Middenheim. Screamers attacked the Germans on both sides of the valley and something which looked like the old pictures of Satan flew over the battlefield. Time to clean house.
Pulling his 3 flights into a rough line the Colonel used datalink to make sure that his fighters would not overtarget. The cries of "Fox 3" indicated the launch of 24 AMRAAM missiles who found their targets without fail. Build to kill supersonic targets made from titanium they were able to shred the living fliers they encountered with ease. While the Greater Dragons or Bloodthirsters could survive the shrapnel and overpressure working on them the missiles destroyed the membranes of their wings, leaving their victims to drop screaming to the ground.

The Bloodthirsters learned that lesson quickly and decided to hoof it-literally. The rest of the flyers tried to fight-or escape as well as they could. Against the Typhoon, one of the best fighters every build, their best was not very good. Breaking up into their elements the German planes went on a hunt for everybody and anything that was above ground. Hoppe had already expended another AIM-120 threw his Fighter in a turn that made his G-Suit inflate around his legs to prevent a blackout. The Screamer appeared in his sight as if by magic and the cannon ripped it apart quite handily-but the bits of otherworldly flesh that got sucked into his left turbine killed any hopes for an extended fight. Nursing his right engine to gain additional ground the German Colonel had to relinquish command an limp of the Battlefield.

Small forest on the Hillside to the right side of the Middenheim Valley, same time

Warden Merkel could move through any kind of forest unseen and unheard if he so choose. Unheard was not a problem as there was enough of a din coming from the battlefield to hide the passage of a company of the Reiksguard in full armor. Unseen was a different proposition altogether. The Orcs had not been where they were supposed to be when the fog was lifted off the battlefield and so the "beacon" the KSK was to emplace had to be moved as well.
To Lieutenant Hermann`s dismay the place where it would have to be emplaced was already very close to the Orcs flanks and they could be sure to have some troops inside the forest already. Shooting their way in was not a sure proposition-the close ranges inside the forest would negate most of the German advantages.

So Dirk had approached the Warden whether he would be willing to infiltrate with him and the "beacon" that gave of no light and he had agreed. So now the two humans were slithering along on their stomachs, trying to avoid all sound and even more important sight. They heard the harsh sounds of Orcish language all around them but the brushwork and their camouflage managed to hide them from the Greenskins. When they reached a meadow around a rocky outcropping they had enough sight of the battlefield to suit their purposes. The Warden heard the sniper whisper into his wireless before turning to him.
"Ok Merkel, we set up here and wait for the word. When I give the signal then turn this knob like this and push it down. When the light is green all is well, otherwise get me. I have to look at the enemy`s advance."
"Can do"
"Good, get to it."

Warden Merkel was illiterate and his knowledge about the world outside of the Forests around Castle Wolfenfels was severely limited. He never expected to fight in a big battle and was not trained to do so. His "betters" at the Castle would have found the idea of him taking part in "honorable combat" distasteful to say the least.
But for all of that when he turned and pressed the knob some time later on command he played a key role in the most devastating attack on the Warhammer World for a long time.

Left Flank of the Battlefield, close to the walls of Middenheim, same time

Ob's stürmt oder schneit, ob die Sonne uns lacht,
Der Tag glühend heiß, oder eiskalt die Nacht,
Verstaubt sind die Gesichter, doch froh ist unser Sinn, Ja, unser Sinn.
Es braust unser Panzer im Sturmwind dahin.
Mit donnernden Motoren, Zum schnell wie der Blitz,
Der Feinde entgegen, im Panzer geschützt
Voraus den Kameraden, In kämpfe die ganz allein, ja ganz allein.
So stoßen wir tief in die feindlichen Reih'n!
Wenn vor uns ein feindlicher Panzer erscheint,
Wird Vollgas gegeben und ran an den Feind.
Was gilt denn unser Leben für uns'res Reiches Heer? Ja, Reiches Heer.
Für Deutschland zu sterben ist unsre höchste Ehr'.
Mit Sperren und Tanks hält der Gegner uns auf,
Wir lachen darüber und fahren nicht drauf.
Und schüttelt er gar grämlich und wütend seine Hand, Ja seine Hand.
Wir suchen uns Wege, die keiner sonst fand
Und läßt uns im Stich einst das treulose Glück,
Und kehren wir nicht mehr zur Heimat zurück,
Trifft uns die Todeskugel, ruft uns das Schicksal ab, Ja, Schicksal ab.
Dann wird unser Panzer ein ehernes Grab!

(If it storms or snows, or the sun smiles on us,
The day burning hot, or the icy cold of night.
Dusty are our faces, but happy is our sense, yes, our sense.
They roll our tanks forward into the storm's wind.
With thundering engines, to fast as lightning,
Towards the enemy, sheltered in the tank,
Ahead of our comrades, In the fight all alone, yes all alone.
Thus we push deep into the enemies ranks!
When before us a hostile tank appears,
Full throttle is given and we close with the enemy.
What does our life matter but for the Reich's army? Yes, Reich's army.
To die for Germany is our highest honor
With obstacles and tanks the foe blocks our path,
We laugh about it and don't drive upon them.
And even if his hand shakes morosely and furiously, yes, his hand.
We search for ways, that no one else found.
And if we are abandoned by treacherous luck,
And if we don't return back home again,
If death's bullet finds us, and fate calls us away, yes, us away.
Then our tank shall become an honorable iron grave!)

The loudspeakers on both sides of the Leopards turrets were doing their best to project the "Panzerlied" to the battlefield but had a hard time to make themselves heard above the huge Diesel engines that had their own song.
Straining their tracks with more than 1800 horsepower the diesels roared like nothing else on this world. The tanks were propelled forward like motorboats, leaving rooster tails of dirt and grass behind them while they sought to get to the ridgeline in front of them in time.
Uli Stoiber still had no problem hearing the traditional tankers song-he had sung it himself often enough and so even the bits of pieces of sound that reached his ears were assembled into a whole inside his head.

The line about the tank becoming an iron grave were resounding doubly after his close brush with death at the river crossing. Only the quick reaction of the tank crew already at the far riverbank had saved his bacon when they immediately revered their tank and pulled Uli`s ride from the stream.
The bilge pump had helped to get rid of some hundred liters of water and to everybody's amazement the tank was not the worse for the untimely bath. This was a great machine and the exhilaration of the fast ride made Uli Stoiber remember again what was so great about driving to the battlefield.

"Driver halt"
His mall tank detachment of 5 tanks all stopped at the ridgeline, long training making sure only to expose the turrets of their fighting vehicles. They had arrived in time, the Bloodthristers that had threatened the artillery had not yet arrived, but were still a kilometer away, closing fast. He hit the button that stopped the music-all well and good on the ride but now communication was more important.
"Gunner, engage targets of opportunity" allowed the tank commander to scan the battlefield. Several demons ran towards them, wielding axes and whips that looked like they could damage even his tank.
The turret turned under him minutely before he heard his crew.
"HE up"
"Engage target"
Booom. As the ground was wet enough there was no big dust cloud to hide the results of their shooting. The HE projectile had hit the target squarely of its chest, blasting off a big portion of it together with the right arm. The face of the Bloodletter showed astonishment that anything could hurt it when a second hit removed the head. Others were luckier, some shots seemed to bounce of the limbs even when that should have been impossible or missed when it was very unlikely. Yet, the 5 tanks under Ulrich`s command were easily able to shoot 6 times a minute and the demons were only able to ignore such shots every so often. Uli was about to order the retreat to the next position when the last Demon dissolved like a fading picture.