March 23rd 1935, Inner District of Kijell
Michael cowered in the crater, his rifle pressed against his chest. In the chaos of battle, he had lost the rest of his squad and when he had begun to wander around in search of them, an NCO he had not recognized had ordered him to turn back or else he would shoot Michael himself, mere seconds before he himself got picked off by a salvo from a machinegun. Not wanting to become the next subject of someone else's deadly kind of target practice, Michael had rushed towards a crater left by one of the craters left from the brief instance the siege guns had actually fired on this city and he had stayed there ever since, waiting for things to die down. While he listened to the sounds all around him, he cursed this war. He cursed the politicians and he cursed the military high command with their constant warmongering. If it wasn't for them, he would be at home, with his friends, his family. Helping with felling the trees and enjoying his evenings after a day of work while he played his harmonika as they gathered around the fire...but alas, instead he was forced to be here. In a hole in a town he never had heard off in some far-off place he wouldn't even be able to point out on a map.
Eventually the machine gun somewhere down the street ceased fire, just for a new sound to come from the other end of the street, as a tank crawled its way towards the machine gun, gradually becoming louder as it came closer, the metal tracks sheering on the pavement resulting in an unpleasant scratching-noise. A brave, or perhaps just panicked soul kept firing on the tank regardless, with little to no effect, as the tank just continued to advance down the street, eventually coming closer towards the hole Michael was in, some dirt and pebbles ending up on this uniform as the vibrations from the tanks movements caused some soil to drop down into it as some of the edges became loose.
With no anti-tank weaponry present to stop it, the tank continued to advance, eventually coming to a halt and firing. Michael had always feared tanks. Large, imposing, almost invulnerable steel beasts, armed with large caliber guns, bringing certain death upon infantry... and while anti tank lances could be somewhat useful, it usually took several hits of those to take care of a tank...if they even hit in the first place, that is. Truly dreadful and terrifying machines... This tank however didn't seem to pay him any form of attention. Which was good, since he wasn't keen on dying today. He was not sure if the tank was one of their own or not, after all...
Had the mechanical beast passed him yet? Michael wasn't sure... i seemed like it did, judging by the sound, but judging on where the sound seemed to come from, he would have guessed it had. But the vibrations had stopped, which meant that the tank had ceased moving. Just as he was about to peek out from his hole to check, however, an explosion could be heard, followed by an even louder one, which instinctively made Michael lay down closer to the ground. Seems like something had hit the tank...something that packed quite a punch, considering how loud it had been. May the Valkyrur have mercy upon the crew, he thought to himself, just as he heard the screams. Cries for help, cries of pain, just to be silenced by the reemergence of the machine gun as it opened fire again, playing its rhythmic solo of death in this symphony of war...
After what felt like an eternity he dared to move again. Brushing off the dirt, he laid there, waiting. It seemed like the gunshots had ceased for now. Shaking heavily, he reached into his left breast pocket. He had to calm himself down, so he took out his harmonika and began to polish it before moving it towards his lips. Maybe if he just played for a bit, it would make the situation a bit better...
March 23rd 1935, General Klackner-Bridge, Kijell
Otto climbed up onto the roof of his tank when he suddenly heard something in the distance. A series of high pitched noises. He stopped to listen for a few seconds before entering the turret, humming the tune to himself as the engine started and their tank rolled towards the bridge.
March 23rd, abandoned Town Hall, Kijell
Elise observed the market square through her scope in search of enemy activity. All of the sudden, she would hear a noise coming from one of the alleys leading to it. After making sure the market square was safe, she threw herself to the ground and crept towards the nearest window overlooking the alleyway. Was... was someone playing music? Elise waited for a couple of seconds before getting onto her knees and searched for the source of the music..
March 23rd, inner district of Kijell
As the assault team advanced down the street, Steven decided to use the opportunity and check the ammunition box of his machine gun. As he leant over to open the top, he suddenly heard a strange sound coming from down the street. He quickly went into position again, gripping the spade grips of his machine gun and kept them aimed at what he assumed was the source of the sound. Eventually he relaxed a bit when he realized it was the sound of some music instrument. Steven sat there, listening to whomever was playing it as the air was filled with the pleasant tune. Whoever this was, they were good. After a minute or two, the music gradually became more quiet and ended completely. Steven pondered about what to do, and eventually, he just clapped. He clapped for what was essentially just a beautiful performance. For a brief moment, this complete stranger hiding somewhere had taken his thoughts off the ongoing war around him. Perhaps encouraged by his reaction, the stranger then stepped out of his hiding place, a crater near a building, the familiar silhouette of an imperial soldier emerging. Steven froze as he stared at what was supposed to be his enemy, unsure what to do. He seemed harmless, all he was "armed" with was a musical instrument in his right hand. Before he could leave his perplexed state and react however, the silence was disturbed by a shot.