Prologue 2/4

February 1st 1943

"This storm it's unnatural we can't even leave this Cathedral! We have sent two men out to find away through the Bolshevik's line. hopping beyond god, to get out!... but that was two days ago and not a single one came back. I fear there is something at the works here… I can feel it in my guts my instincts screaming out danger that I can't see!. Some of the men claimed it to be magic! I have my suspicions too towards this unnatural weather too. I cannot see two feet in front of me! And If I stand at the door or anywhere near where the winds could howl, the chilling winds out side this barrier isn't bypassing through here. No the winds are actually going around around us! instead of going through this cathedral. The chilling cold is still seeping through though, it's cold freezing hands slowly grasping at our lives.

The fires we have blazing are not enough to combat the bitterness of the late winter, especially the condition of our uniforms!. Our clothing is i'll proper winter gear, our fight should have lasted before the first snow fall. I remembered that Moscow was so close that our scouts could see the gold on top of saint Basil's Cathedral. Now all of us are using any scrap we could grab. And it hurts me seeing our brothers fighting each other over this garbage!. What have we become, to be in such a state… that we are willing to spill each other's blood?.

My hands are freezing and the senses of feeling anything is lost. I try to keep them warm over the dying flames. The men try to huddled closely to each other, trying keep warm or grabbing scraps of flammable debris. We found one of our own frozen dead in his sleep the touch burned me from the sickly cold skin, some of them have even looted his corpse for the jacket and his socks."

February 2nd 1943

"The blizzard has passed over night, I could still see the city that surrounded us, but it felt different. I would worry about that later some of our weapons are now in poor condition from the frost and ice. Most of the bolts are sticking or frozen in place, from that last scuffle with Ivan and we have a few men working hard to get them in working order. We can still see beyond the outermost city, only to see red banners with that dam star with its sickle and hammer! gently fluttering in the wind. So... Ivan stayed close to us during the blizzard.

I can see the few russkies running about like rats, shock guards, shock troops, the red rifle guards and finally the meat troops. I'v been watching them from my cover with a pair of binoculars, for the past two hours nothing changed. I had to keep changing my position from time to time and only then I could use my binoculars, only when I'm out of the suns rays. The sun can give me away as it has saved my life from the hunters. The suns rays can give away anyone's position when the light hits the glass just right, giving a flash like a flare... that is why I only use them to see what I can make out or see what is going on. I fear that the glare or the lens flash could give me away, making me open towards a sniper who can pick me off.

Three hours has passed since I last checked. I can see it in their eyes there body language, the men are skittish right now... they are planing something… and all we can do is wait and prepare for the inedible. It kills me that th-"

His pen dropped from his grasp as the once silence air was broken by seven distinct thumping sounds. All of them where familiar with it, it was a sound that burned into them an instinctual reflex took over. Scrambling away from the windows and walls taking anything that was solid enough. The troops held closely towards the ground some covering their heads while others watched. The whistling sang out above there heads, the shells screaming out from their fins, there shrill screamed down upon the Cathedral. The screams came to an end before blasting dirt, snow and debris into the air. Shrapnel flew far and sporadic, damaging anything in there path, glass, wood, stone and flesh. Jurgen could feel the shockwaves emitting from their pay load, he looked to the roof above them seeing the chandlers swing, the dust and lose material falling from such force.

"Get to the trenches! Grab any rifle that can work. do not allow them to take a single step into our lines!" Screamed the officer. With out a word, the men jumped back onto their feet. Running out. Like a well oiled machine they are, the rifles, machine pistols, light machine guns and boxes of pocket artillery, where distributed swiftly amongst the defenders. The dormant pak38 re-maned to punch a hole through Russian steel. In there haste snow was thrown the crunching sound under there steel boots, shells still screamed their approaching decent raining around them.

Jurgen grabbed his PPSH 41 kept close by and the magazine box that laid next with him. "Victor, Otto, Emil with me!. Make sure you have extra magazines, we are heading to the first line and grab that 34!." His voice calm and controlled, turning around he jumped into the trench. Gunfire erupted like fireworks, the sound and the adrenaline pumping across his body then into his heart. Bullets whispered or whizzed by his head, the snow splashing from impacts, still he pushed harder through the low earth. Men shouted out cussing out profanity towards Ivan..

Keeping his head and body low in the trenched earth. Making his way towards the first line of defence, where he will meet the Bolshevik head on. The shells screams where unrelenting as they rained down, forcing the men into cover from debris, allowing Ivan to close the gap. There safety built into the earth and wood became there worse enemy, allowing the mortars clear targets where they should support their allies.

taking his PPSH 41 loading a round magazine from his straps, clicking the box charging the bolt waiting for the red menace. Otto came over holding several cases filled with fresh rounds for both machine pistols and strip clips stacked to the brim. "Victor set the mg34 and start working on it! Otto, Emil grab some extra munitions and take some grenades with you." With that they took what they needed spreading apart to keep one another covered.

"Ivan is not letting up on his bombardment." Otto spoked from his right. His cold blue eyes focused on the city's outskirts, gripping his mp40 tightly the sound whispering quietly. His cap and the raggedy scrap of a scarf covering his mouth and nose.

Weapons clicking and belts clinking with each other. "Victor is the MG ready yet?." Emil called out placing grenades close by. He unslung the Geweher 41 pulling the bolt back feeding it two strips, clicking forwards. He rested against the ground small puffs of steam escaped his steady breathing.

Victor shook his head the slipping on the solid ice block. "Nee. But this ice is more solid then Ivan's head." He let out a small chuckle. Placing his light machine gun down the boxes near by, taking hold and unfolding the bipod. Taking the belt out a small thin metal sheet jutted out, guiding it through the feeding chamber. Pulling the bolt back and allowing it to slide forwards, locking the first round of many.

"Quiet I can hear something" Jurgen said over the explosions. True enough over the sound of bombardments, grinding treads came clear from the outskirts. Rolling into view a small sloped tank no higher then 2 meters crawled over the small mound of debris. Its small turret and smooth short barrel looked like a familiar shape… until it clicked in his head, seeing them from the start of the invasion. "Scheißdreck it's s a T60 get down!" He yelled out, the T60 light tank rolled over it's main gun firing it 20mm explosive shells. Fragmentation splattered snow, dirt and splintering wood where rounds struck. Troops ducked deeper into the ground, taking cover when ever the rounds struck too close or where the splashing leads to them.

The reds came out like a hungry pack towards a weak beast. "Konrad get on the pak right now! Everyone shoot! shoot at the reds!." Yelled the officer firing towards the red plague. Rifles, machine pistols and LMG's came to life, spewing led towards there hated Enemies. The reds took cover behind their fallen, using them as meat shields for cover. Shells still screamed above them like a banshee from above, keeping them down to keep the suppression levels to a minimum.

The T-60 continued its corse, twenty millimetre canon firing rapidly in short bursts. Konrad open fired, whistling towards the T-60 it struck hard on top leaving a smooth cut on top of it's head leaving it unscathed. "Dam it! It's is to low for the gun too hit it. I just need it to be lower to hit the dam thing!." Called out Konrad. The T60 that was closing in slowly, only stopping to turn its turret towards the pak crew.

The officer let out a low growl "Karl, Hubert, Rochus and Alfred go help him lift it!" Dropping out from there cover, they moved swiftly through there defence towards the gun. "Get down now!" Yelled the officer.

Several bursts came out as twenty millimetre rounds cut through the air. A round flying at such a velocity connected with raw force an unfortunate soul took the brutal force. Kinetic energy transferred into his leg the clothing tearing apart. Muscle and skin separating for the round, this kinetic energy forced a ripple to spread out through skin and tissue trying to soften or slow this energy. The energy was overwhelming that the skin ripped apart the muscle shredding itself apart, the mass moved through without resistance. Bone snapped and turned into splinters. He screamed out in agonizing pain, cries for help or desperation as he held onto the stump.

A grenadier got out of his hole pulling his injured comrade to safety. Blood trailing along with his injury "Karl! I need you to calm down! I can't help you if you keep this up." Called the grenadier holding him down trying to tie a scarf around just a little above his stump, to stop or slow the bleeding. His screams cut out as his body slumped into the snow. His breathing becoming more shallow "dam it!" He hit the ground several times screaming it out "you animals! You red bastards I'll kill you! I'll KILL EVERYONE OF YOU!" He yelled taking the MP40 from his dying comrade unleashing his hate.

The remaining men jumped over the debris getting around the AT gun "help me lift this gun so I can hit that dam thing!" Called Konrad they began to Lift the pak AT gun up, the men straining themselves as the gunner stacked stone blocks and debris underneath its recoil legs. Giving the gun a much better angle. Swiftly the gunner jumped on twisting its gears to realign with it's target, with a thunderclap it soared gracefully in the air, connecting heavily in the right front armour. The shell tore through its thin steel hide remaining intact throughout it's travel, on it's continued corse it slammed into the engine block. Ripping, shredding and bursting into fragments catching fire towards it's vital diesel fuel. Flames quickly spread inside this small tank licking the crew and her payload. quickly the T-60 burst open, flames clawing forth twisted steel and discharged rounds flying in every direction. Leaving the left and right side that was blown open, tracers leaping out like grasshoppers.

"ah ha! that's right you Bolshevik scum burn. Burn you retched creatures! The German race will be victorious! And we will take as many before we die!" Screamed Jurgen tap firing his PPSH-41 towards the advancing soviets.

"Jurgen I need help!" He looked over to see Emil trying to forcefully bolt out a round. "It's jammed I can't get it out" his shaking voice came out quickly.

Quickly Jurgen took the rifle examining the rifles mechanism. He froze what he saw the bolt was not stuck… no it was torn where the spring was. A sizeable gap was located there. Dropping the Geweher he grabbed Emil turning him around to see a wound just above his right upper torso missing his lung. "Emil patch yourself up now!" He leaned down taking a discarded MP40 and handing it to Emil. Before he could take it away, he tightened his grip "patch yourself up first" he growled out before letting it go to reload his PPSH 41.

The battle escalated over time, the soviet's where taking heavy losses, suffering more then Reich's military might. But the German heart was losing, no matter how well trained or battle hardened they where. There protection, there cover suffering from heavy mortar bombardment, the reds continuously suppressing them. Granting these beasts to take a step closer. The massing infantry of bodies and lead continued to litter the field. Spent casings covered the dirt and snow, the wounded bleeding as they fought at each other's throats.

"There is no end to them!" Yelled Victor the mg34 bursting towards the large mass, empty shell casings clinking on top of the growing pile. His boot clinked against the pile littering the ground, Four spent barrels laying in the snow, as one was still burning hot, melting the snow.

"Otto go back to the church and grab more munitions" said Jurgen his PPSH laid empty next to him. The MP40 in his grasp controlling the steady recoil, a resounding click came out. Locking the bolt thumb on the release. pulling the spent clip out allowing it to fall away, reaching over taking one of last eight magazines from the box. Several spent clips laid around him.

"jawohl mein kommandant." Yelled Otto stopping his suppression then taking off towards the Cathedral.

Jurgen called out as the red came closer then before "Emil I need you to suppress them." He didn't hear anything. "Emil" he called again "Emil are you still with us?." Jurgen called out once again. Nothing came back. Looking towards his right he saw Emil lying in the dirt, his bleeding stopped from his wound but his eyes are now glassy. "I thought I told you to patch yourself up Emil." He spoke under his breath redoubling his efforts towards the advancing enemy. Stopping to see how close they truly where just near meters away from his position.

"Jurgen watch out!" Yelled Victor lifted the mg34 swinging towards Jurgen's right. Hearing and seeing what he had planned he dropped into the dirt. The MG34 sang above him as Victor struggled with the weapons recoil. Victor fought for power from this beast the belt hanging off but getting smaller. Bullets tore through his enemies, ripping the flesh at such a close proximity, he could hear their screams behind him, and the heavy smell and taste of iron flooded his nose. Thinking quickly he turned onto his back seeing four Russian infantry managing to pushing through, lifting the machine pistol holding the trigger letting lose a steady stream against them. His machine pistol clacked telling him that it was empty, getting up and removing the empty mag he threw it, hitting a Bolshevik in his face, distracting him just enough for someone else to finish him off.

"Dam it! we can't hold here anymore." He spoke loading another magazine that felt light. "I don't know how long we can hold out from this pressure." Jurgen said finishing off the magazine he tossed the empty mag hitting another Russian. Reaching another clip from his belt only to feel air after a few pats until he felt the last one. A low growl came out of his throat "I'm on my last leg here!"

"The MG is out! I have no more belts to feed it" Victor said taking his MP40 quickly loading a clip.

"Where is Otto when you need him!." Yelled Jurgen letting lose. The Reds now reaching there trench line. he let out a feral roar as a rifleman… a young boy beryl in his twenties but his eyes held fire in them, a fire that was mutual with Jurgen's eyes. He charged at him with a bayoneted rifle as the boy screamed out his rage. Jurgen knew what was coming, he done this dance a few times before, twisting his body the blade grazed his uniform. Like a viper he grasped the rifle tightening his grip, with a roar he pulled with his might. The kursant lost his footing from the unexpected turn of events. Falling into the trench, Jurgen leapt at his chance drawing his hitler youth knife. The cold steel unsheathed from his boot slipped across the younger mans hand, releasing his grip from the mosin Nagant. Continuing his resolve the knifepoint came down with the might of man's fury, grief and loss. It cut through cloth and skin sinking deep into his chest, muscle tissue and strings parted from the bloody steeled edge before pulling out. Over and over again as the wound became into an horrifying sight. The boy was long dead but the knife kept running through, cutting more flesh and the blood staining his steel and what could be called a uniform.

A scream of rage shook Jurgen from his right. "Jurgen get out of the way!" Screamed Victor as pushed him aside, taking the brunt from a soviet shock trooper. Ivan came down upon them, into there trench, his rusty blade held firmly within his grasp. It came down but his intended target was pushed aside, cutting into Victor's right thigh embedding itself. A pained scream came forth, reaching out he pulled his own knife his breathing ragged and holding rage within. Shooting forth, thrusting into this shock troops chest, the steel came closer towards it's tended corse. But when the blade cut through the cloak, it made a sharp metallic clang on his chest that hid a steel plated body armour. The Bolshevik ripped his blade out, thrusting into his side stomach, pulling and gutting him. Victor tried as he might and desperately swinging to get through his plated chest.

Jurgen fumbling over his holster, losing precious time as Ivan thrashed at his brother like a rabid animal. With the clasp unhooked pulling out his C96 mauser pistol, cocking the first round. Abandoning accuracy pulling the trigger four times, it barked out four rounds, the first striking metal steel, the second, made his target flinched up holding his shoulder. A round missed completely as the last shot grazing his cheek. Noticing this opportunity with his wavering strength, Victor lunged up digging his blade right across his throat. The big bear of a man held onto the open gash trying to breathe, barking out once again Jurgen finished him off.

Rushing towards his comrade to aid him. But Victor reached out grabbing tightly into his collar "Get out of here Jurgen! Get back to the Cathedral." Victor seethed out the pain crawling across his features before pushing him. He began crawling towards the case of grenades. "I'm done... you can't do anything…. To what that Barbarian did to me." Victor coughed grabbing two model 24 grenades. He started to twist the cap twice before barking out "Los Los dummkopf!"

Jurgen got up taking the MP40 and his PPSH 41. Running back to the Cathedral, he lost his footing when an explosion erupted behind him turning he saw four Russians flying or knocked down, turning once again he kept low into the earth, bullets whizzed by or whispered to closely for his liking. Getting back half way through the defensive line, he saw other Grenadiers took up behind him closely retreating back further into there defences. Cracks of gunfire became few and far, the farther he went the less sounds of warfare came. Getting through the tunnel the grenadiers that where behind, started to take up defensive positions near the windows and debris.

What Jurgen and most did not expect was that Ivan was retreating!. Back to there holes back to their lines like the rats they are. It sent a thrill of victory down his spine. "We did it we held them off!" One screamed out cheering but only a few joined in with him.

It was close to sundown, it has been four hours since then, Jurgen and a few others braved outside the fields of battle, collecting tags and munitions from the dead. Jurgen came across several Russian troops and a soviet guard. Taking there clothes a heavy coat and a watch that was cracked, finally he removed an armoured chest plate taking it for his own use. Putting them on, he felt better, much better at having something to protect himself from the cold chilling winds. They lost ten brothers this battle only leaving them with thirty seven left, the sun had started to set with night fall. It was too soon for it to arrive and it would be worse as time went on, how could they survive another assault from the unrelenting Reds with there inexhaustible numbers?.

The men where sprawled throughout the Cathedral some resting others taking watch. Making his way but stopping as he saw one of the men outside, holding onto tags. Changing corse he made his way out standing beside him, before he could speak the grenadier spoke first. "I fucking hate this forsaken city, its like hell on earth… I lost friends… I lost count on how much my brothers in arms where shot, stabbed or blown up." He took a deep shaky breath. "Hitler caused all this… this pain, this suffering that we have to go through or better yet this unachievable victory." Jurgen looked down at this excuse of a soldier but he could not blame him… no it was a man that was pushed too far all of them was pushed too far… too far gone to return. The sound of a gun cocked next to him looking over, the man had his P08 out, he looked over towards Jurgen, before saying his last words. "Hail… Hitler" he said no he spoke it with discus and venom before shoving it in his mouth. Pulling the trigger. The gun erupted shattering his skull and grey matter, he watched it all happen he felt rage, sorrows mess of emotions flooding him. He left walking away from a soldier that broke.

Heading towards the Officer on the second level, his heart felt heavy a miasma of hopelessness flooded the air, choking the men with everything they have. The wood creaked under his boots the bitter cold biting his exposed skin. Reaching the top level where the Officer was standing an MG42 laid next to his commanding officer. Shell casings littered the wooden floor barrels where carelessly tossed aside from there skirmish."herr kommandant we have lost ten men during the skirmish and one of the men has executed himself I fear there is something much worse in the coming morning." Jurgen said sitting next to the officer, releasing a tired sigh.

"Tell me Kommandant... what do you see wrong tonight" the officer said starring off into the night sky.

He looked ahead seeing this infernal city and there a red banner that he will always hate and fear. "All I see is the infernal Red banner of the soviets! And a wasted city that's been in Hell for the past two months!" Yelled Jurgen. He stood up as he waved an arm across the fields "The ground is littered in bodies! there blood dripping into there lands, we will make them drown in it." Jurgen grabbed his PPSH-41 tightly, his left fist held above his breast.

The Officer looked over to him then looked towards the night sky once again "That is not what I wanted to hear... look to the moon Jurgen and tell me what is wrong. And look closely to the city again." The Officer spoke calmly sitting back down, clasping his hands together beneath his chin, staring into the distance

Jurgen took a deep breath turning to the starry sky, but his blood felt cold his mouth agape. "What happened to the moon!" He softly asked out loud taking a seat next to his commanding Officer. His combat fatigue begging to grasp at his last ounce of energy. The moon shone dimly in the night it's fragments giving off a dreadful aura. The city beyond the Red banners was more taller but still looked like a war torn hellish city.

A flare flew high into the air a small puff could be heard illuminating over there heads. Getting up and hiding behind cover. Waiting for the reds to come… but there was no chanting or battle cries just gunfire clattering on there side. Staying in there defensive positions prying for a false attack. When nothing came Jurgen gathered the courage to peek, both of them seeing nothing.

The gunfire clattering across was no where near them in fact, it was somewhere else. "You think it's the division staging a counterattack?" Jurgen said giving false hope that they broken through again.

"No... like what you said Jurgen. Tomorrow will be worse." The officer spoke coldly watching the muzzle flashes of a skirmish across the field.

February 3rd 1943

I can't sleep I was able to get a few winks, but the constant gunfire is familiar... that is what I kept telling myself or want to believe. No I can hear howling out there and the others could too. Ripping a good rest away from us!. Wolves do not travel into a city like this... not when the fighting is still fresh. I can't believe I'm writing this but I hope the reds could hold out. Something is off and I do not want it to be magic. The Führer was right all along that magic dose exist!.

This skirmish we have lost ten and tonight. One of the men had enough putting a bullet through his own head. A coward if he ended his own life. weak if it came to it. I had thoughts of ending it with one round before but no as a trained Waffen SS that will never come to me in such a way.

Now only thirty nine of us remained. I just hope that what ever comes our way it will fall under the iron boot of the German race. I will not faultier in the face of our enemies I will fight till the last drop of blood and my last breath tearing at there lungs!.

Authors Note

Edited on October 3rd

Serious Ham (love that name) Dreadpool

I am keeping him as a true Nazi of the Feared Waffen Schutzstaffel. He will not have a heart of gold no... he has a heart of Iron forged in the fires of war and loyalty. And I do hate it when I see a Waffen SS solider has a good heart an is not a fascist. And I am counting on you two to keep me on track if I deviate because I am Canadian so I have a good heart.

And James I will embrace the ways of the age of 1933 to 1950 keeping it true to the time period and have him as what he is supposed to be.

And I give thanks to you all for the read and your reviews

Give out your reviews to help me improve because I'm doing this through my phone :(