"War is cruelty. There is no use trying to reform it. The crueler it is, the sooner it will be over."

William Tecumseh Sherman

VIII

THUG OF WAR

Colonel Messner had established his command post in small house a few kilometers away from the American lines. The area surrounding it was composed of farmlands, with high fences, small woods and clusters of tiny houses and barns spread all around. To the Americans it looked a little too much like Normandy for comfort, and they were purposely staying away from it. At least for now that the occupation of Leipzig was their main objective in the region.

The building itself was as inconspicuous enough to not draw too much attention to the casual observer, and had been abandoned for some time now, the owners having probably escaped when the invaders started to get too close. Probably a wise choice, taking into account what was about to happen.

His command staff was surrounding him in the living room, the furniture they'd found there now covered in military equipment, radios, maps, weapons, and so on. They had a multi-staged plan aimed at keeping the Americans occupied, and even drawing them out of their defensive lines, hopefully making life easier for the SS independent Panzer squadron, maybe even managing some sort of breakthrough. At least something that would eventually help in allowing for better terms of surrendering. Every bit counted, as they said.

Messner was a pragmatic man, and even fatalistic if given the chance. He'd also seen too much to simply give up now, although the possibility of surrendering did cross his mind more than once. It was obvious that the enemy was crushing Germany, there wasn't even a hint of doubt about it. The war was lost, it had been so for several years already. But he was an officer, and a proud one at that. He could never live with himself if he didn't do everything in his ability to serve the Army and his country. If the day ever came when he would had no other way out, he would raise the white flag.

Until that day arrived, though, he would fight.

And even so, and in spite of his extensive combat experience, which started in those skirmishes against the Polish horse riders, five and a half years ago, and grew larger across the French woodlands, the Russian steppes and the farmlands of Holland, there were still things that surprised him. Among them were those girls in their tanks, and their outlandish ideas.

"What you're talking about is called a plastic defense." Messner told Maria, speaking to the microphone, and waiting the girl to reply.

According to her, the Panzer IV purposely stayed behind while the rest of the other units took positions along the ambush areas determined during the planning stage for the operation. He could almost imagine Anglerfish Team, the tank hidden among the trees, Maria sitting on the radio-operator's post to speak directly to him, and her crew clustered around the hatch to listen to the discussion.

"I believe so." The girl replied, her tone as humble as always. But Messner had already caught the hints of a strong personality on the way she spoke. It was hard to notice, and most people would ignore it as it meshed with her gentle and caring demeanor. But Messner wasn't like most people.

"It's an intriguing idea. The scout teams had confirmed your assumption, though. There is an American column coming in pursuit."

"I see. We should then spread out and allow for the different tank crews to act independently, although with coordination from my part."

"There are a few issues with your plan, though." He had to admire the girl's courage, truth be told. They were indeed daring, in spite of their lack of training and being as terrified as anyone else. But that also meant that, in spite of Maria's impressive knowledge, some basic details still escaped her. "First, your fuel is limited. We have some to allow us to return to Torgau, but we can't refill you to maintain the pressure on the Ami. On the other hand, I have to question you about your people's ability to do this."

There was slight delay in the answer. The girl certainly digesting what Messner had just said. He wouldn't ever say it out loud, of course, but he didn't really mind if the girls openly said they have had enough. The day had already been brutal as it was, and they did more than anyone had ever asked of them. However, he could really use those tanks for a while longer.

"I believe them." Maria finally said, her voice shaky. "I'll give instructions for the crews to RTB once they start running low on fuel."

"Very well, then. Good hunting." And then Messner put down the microphone, his mind already wandering about the possible scenarios for the next skirmish.

Several kilometers away from the command post, inside a small pack of trees, Maria left the radio-operator's post of the Panzer IV and climbed back to the command hatch. The rest of Anglerfish Team returned to their posts, while Ysabelle felt like gushing.

"Individual hunter-killers?" she said to the commander. "That's inspired!"

Maria nodded at her.

"If the enemy doesn't know how many tanks they're facing, they might as well divert more troops to face us, making the main strike force's life much easier."

"That doesn't makes me any less nervous." Simone replied. "That means we will have to face even more enemies."

"We'll have to be careful, then." Maria said. "Meike, watch the fuel. Once we're in the lower fourth, we'll pull out."

It took her a moment to realize she was starting to call her crew by their given names. It seemed natural in the heat of the moment, and, as far as she could tell from everything she'd learned from her books and her conversations with her father, it was a sign of trust and connection with the troops.

She would have preferred to get closer to those girls in other circumstances, but welcomed what she had anyway. And now, there was a job to fulfill.

Rain poured down from the sky once again. It had been falling sporadically, so the soil was still solid enough for vehicles to move over it. But it was slowly becoming muddier, and soon even that would become impossible to do so.

That was probably why the Americans moved to the narrow road which descended to the tiny village in the center of the farmland. After dismounting from the Hanomag, leaving Turtle Team safe with the vehicle's crew, Eren went to one of the buildings, now occupied by German soldiers, having been abandoned by the respective owners some time ago. It was there that he was informed that the enemy had bitten the bait. He thanked the corporal whom he spoke to, and then ran across the field, to a ditch some five hundred meters away from the buildings.

Armin was there, along with Corporal Kirstein, so Eren joined them.

"How bad was it?" Armin queried, his detached tone failing to hide the worry he'd felt for his friend.

"It's Holland all over again." Eren shook his head, and then peered over the edge of the ditch. "The Americans are almost here."

"How many?" Kirstein asked.

"A section, tanks and infantry." Eren waited a moment as Kirstein ordered the men to prepare the Panzerfausts. "How many tanks do we have?"

"One, hidden among the buildings."

"One?" Unable to hide his shock, Eren turned to face the other two. "Where are the others?"

"The Colonel is allowing them to act independently." It was Armin who replied. "Cause confusion in the enemy ranks and such."

"They will only get themselves killed." Eren hissed under his breath. "Königsberg and the others were lucky enough as it is."

There was no more time for that discussion. Someone yelled that the Americans were coming, so the Panzergrenadiers hidden behind the ditch as well as they could. Eren still took out his helmet and peered over the edge of the ditch, making his best efforts to not get noticed.

The M8 Greyhound appeared from behind a set of nearby trees, rolling down the road, a few GIs packed over its engine cover, one of them manning the 12,7mm machinegun mounted over the turret. The 6-wheel scout car approached the village carefully, and it stooped two hundred meters or so away from the first house. The troops dismounted and started a slow run to the village, using a set of fences as cover. Behind the M8 came two Shermans, older M4A1 models. They also packed several infantrymen, which promptly dismounted and formed a perimeter. There were more vehicles in the column, but they were hidden by the trees.

The American scout team was now just a few meters away from the first building, the squad leader gesturing to his men. Eren noticed he was trembling, and felt his hands and forehead wet. Was that sweat, or the rain? His breath was gushing between his teeth, as he carefully observed the scene. The Americans wouldn't get in a better position. It was up to the rest of the ambush group to start the attack. So where were they?

It happened on the other side of the road, out of his line of sight. The Char B1 crewed by Master Sergeant Alexander Louis Aschenbrenner and his three SS boys, forming Mallard Team, crawled out of the small barn it had used for cover until then. It went there as soon as Messner realized the American's objective, and barely managed to find a hideout before the enemy made its approach. Now it was awkwardly moving its wide bulk over the mud, directly into the American line.

Realizing what was about to happen, the enemy started reacting, but it was too late, the Char B1 fired first, it's hull-mounted howitzer exploding in smoke and thunderous noise, the M3 half-track at the tail of the column disappearing behind a cloud of dust and mud as the round hit the road beside it and detonated. Meanwhile a group of troopers came out of the barn and spread out, deploying their machine guns. From behind the barn came support fire from two mortar teams, and the MG42s placed on the village proper came alive right after the first shot.

"Here we go…" Eren mumbled. He donned his helmet and rose to fire his rifle. The weapons of the rest of the Kirstein's platoon were also filling the air with their deafening clatter. One of the troopers hiding in the house closer to the American troops managed to fire a Panzerfaust at the first American tank, failing to hit the hull, but cracking its right track in two. The shooter was immediately silenced by an American grenade the scout team hurled into his window.

The M8 turned to roll out of the line of fire, barely avoiding another Panzerfaust, probably more because of luck than skill. The remaining tanks weren't as lucky, as they were now stuck between the immobile bulks of the other two vehicles, the troops around doing what they could to defend them.

Eren gritted his teeth. This would be nasty.