"The ignorant mind, with its infinite afflictions, passions, and evils, is rooted in three poisons. Greed, anger and delusion."

Bodhidharma

XI

PANZERLIED

Major Carlo Rosso was quite understandably uneasy. Who knew that it would all come down to that, a bitter last stand against the whole world? And yet, as an Italian he would never have the opportunity to do what he was doing right now, taking part in the first steps of the future of aviation, if not for the state of despair in which the Wehrmacht found itself, allowing for volunteers from all over the world to join in, as long as they showed adherence to the values of Fascism and absolute loyalty.

Loyalty to money would also be acceptable, and several ranks of the SS thrived in that regard. But Carlo was a true Fascist at heart. He'd supported Mussolini from the very start, when he marched to Rome in 1922. At the time a simple teenager, Carlo had already set is eyes in the pure blue skies, and the freedom they represented. And, in his mind, it was the strong government of the Fascists, which many believed was unjust, that allowed him a place in the Royal Italian Air Force.

He'd fought the British and the Americans over Southern Italy, during his first deployments, dropping bombs over their positions, many times returning with his airplane filled with holes, but still able to fly. Even after facing the enemy fighters a few times, he was never shot down.

When Rome capitulated and betrayed the Duce, Carlo deserted and went to join the Luftwaffe. The joy he'd felt when he was accepted and looked forward for the next opportunity to fight the enemy was quickly dispelled when the Germans sent him to Berlin to do some second-class work. He wanted to fight, not freight.

But then another opportunity came by and he was eventually accepted to join the small cadre of pilots who would pilot the revolutionary Arado Ar234 Blitz. A simple aircraft with a tubular fuselage and straight wings, the Blitz had a ground-breaking Junkers Jumo 004B-1 jet engine under each wing. It was a joy to fly, and the power and speed it developed had nothing to do with the propeller-driven biplanes he fought with in Italy.

The world would never the same ever again, and Carlo was part of that tiny group which would change aviation forever.

Unfortunately, the Ar 234 B-1 reconnaissance jet was unarmed. That meant that if an enemy fighter came by, Carlo could only resort to its high speed to evade danger. And while in the ground the thick cloud cover precluded the intervention of aircraft, up there, above the indolent sea of white, there was only crystal blue overhead. The dark silhouette would be an easy target if anyone saw it.

His mission was of prime importance, though, and after a relatively short flight, he was able to see why. The sea of clouds extended for a wide distance in all directions but one. It was moving eastward, and to the west it abruptly ended, allowing for the sun to reveal the green farmlands of Central Germany.

Carlo knew there was an attack going on against the Americans laying siege to Leipzig, and that it depended on the cloud cover to succeed. Now, it seemed, to grunts down bellow had even less time left than the high command expected. As he made his report back to the base, he thought about which kind of drama was going on down there. What were the defenders of the Third Reich suffering against the so-called Western Allies? They talked of democracy, diversity and all of that, but to Carlo, those were empty words akin to corruption and weakness.

A man like him would never understand such ideals.

The sudden shaking of the entire aircraft startled Carlo. Looking around, he realized how much he'd neglected his situational awareness, a mortal mistake somewhat excused by his need to scrutinize what was underneath him to make his report. But as the Ar 234 started to bank right, the engines screeching wildly as the whole aircraft stumbled out of control, he realized how much his momentary lack of attention would cost him.

Carlo saw the pair of silver American P-51s, probably some hunter-killer flight, passing by his aircraft, turning away for another pass. But it wouldn't be needed, as their first burst had been precise enough. The right wingtip of the pioneer jet scout bomber was wrapped in flames, fuel and oil spilling from the holes punched in by the .50 cal machine guns.

Around him the aircraft kept shaking, the nose now pointing downwards as it started to spin. Carlo held to the control stick as firmly as he could, but it was obstinately pulling to the right. Clenching his teeth, the pilot put his feet on the windshield, trying to at least control the aircraft's descent, but to no avail. The flames had now engulfed the right engine. Still working, it screeched and shook, pieces falling away as the Blitz started to disintegrate.

His life has been filled with struggle and unwavering adhesion to ideals he saw as strong and necessary. And yet Carlo still craved for the sky, the pure liberating blue that was about to spell his very doom, barely realizing the ironic contradiction.

The forsaken aircraft now descending into the clouds was at the forefront of a new age, in spite of the regime that created it. But such a new era still had to wait; the old world had yet to witness the final act of its existence.

And so, the burning Ar 234 disappeared under the grey clouds, leaving a trail of black oily smoke in its wake, and taking Carlo Rosso with it into oblivion.

After wandering across the farmlands for a few minutes, the Panzer IV finally came to a halt beside a small house with stone walls. Back at the village they'd ambushed the Americans and actually managed to knock out another tank, before being forced to pull out when the remaining M4s advanced to pursuit the lone German assailant. Maria already knew beforehand that they would only have one shot at that, and actually managed to make it count. The boys and girl aboard the StuG III weren't as lucky, and missed their shot once again.

"Hippo Team says they're all well." Simone reported. "The enemy didn't manage to hit them. They will join us as soon as possible"

"I'm glad…" Maria leaned back on the command chair and sighed, rubbing her forehead gently. The plan to attack the Americans from both sides, using the artillery strike as a cover was something that she came up with after Messner gave the cue through Simone. Still it had been a very risky gamble, and both crews could very well have got themselves killed due to a simple mistake.

Even so, and in spite of the spike of fear that still made her body shiver and her face feel ungainly hot, Ysabelle tried to remain enthusiastic. What else could she do? So, she turned towards Maria.

"This was great planning. One more kill and we'll become aces, and-" Her words died out when she noticed that Hanna was quivering, like if she had been suddenly afflicted by a terrible fever. "Hanna?"

The Prussian girl was embracing herself, her expression a mask of sadness.

"Those men… I've set them on fire, didn't I?"

Maria turned towards her, but the girl seemed completely embroiled in the dark shadow now covering her thoughts. Slowly, the reality about what they were doing was starting to actually settle in.

"Well… the Shermans do that." It was the only thing Ysabelle managed to say, as even Maria remained silent while Hanna's sobbing filled the fighting compartment. Actually, before Ysabelle lost her sources, she'd discovered that the Americans were working on a way to solve the problem with the fires in the Sherman tanks. If they hadn't been implemented yet, or if that crew had simply been unlucky enough to be issued an older model, was something she couldn't know.

Maria hesitated at first, but then she placed a hand on Hanna's shoulder. The other girl immediately turned towards her, her eyes wet and on the verge of bursting into tears.

"We've done enough." Maria said. "I think we can pull out now."

Hanna opened her mouth in shock. She quickly recovered her composure, and passed the back of her hand over her eyes to clean away the tears.

"No, I'm good." Her voice was shaky.

"Hanna…"

"No," she shook her head, "We can't leave the Panzergrenadiers like this." She turned to Meike. "We still have some fuel, right?"

"Yes." The driver replied, looking back over her seat.

While this conversation went on, Simone had been dealing with the radio traffic. At this point she turned back to her friends.

"Hippo Team has arrived. Rabbit Team is already here too."

Maria considered the situation for a moment. Again, her left hand was twitching, although less noticeably than before.

"Tell them I'm going to meet them." She glanced back at the Anglerfish Team's gunner, who now seemed slightly calmer, although there was still a veil of sadness over her semblance.

"I'll be all right." Hanna told her.

Unable to find any words for that situation, Maria simply nodded at her, and then left the vehicle. Feeling she shouldn't leave the commander alone, Ysabelle decided to go after her.

Augusta and Erwin were waiting for them behind a cereal silo, their respective vehicles hidden in the nearby woods. The girl had her hands behind her back, and glanced sheepishly at the ground, surely aware of what the conversation would be about. The boy, though, seemed more at ease, one hand in the pocket of his coat, the other hanging beside his body, glancing at Maria and Ysabelle while they approached the duo.

"I'm glad to see you're both all right." Maria said as soon as she joined them.

"There's only us left?" Augusta asked, looking around wearily.

"That's the case, yes." Maria replied. "Mallard Team took a direct hit, and it is believed that only Master Sergeant Aschenbrenner managed to escape."

Immediately the other commanders lowered their heads.

"Poor boys." Augusta murmured. No one really knew Mallard Team, but the boys comprising it were all younger than most of the girls. That made the news hard to swallow, especially with the Baderberg tank squadron having suffered its first casualty so recently.

"Turtle Team also got hit. They've lost the tank but everyone managed to escape safe and sound."

The observation made Erwin raise his head, this time looking somewhat relieved.

"At least there's that," he said.

"What now?" Ysabelle asked the commander.

"Well, the Americans will probably move north to force us away from their flank. If we put enough pressure we might still scare them a little more."

"Seems like a plan."

Maria looked to the sky.

"I wouldn't put much hope on it, though. The rain has stopped and we don't have any real trump cards left."

It was true. The weather seemed to be getting warmer and the clouds less dense. Soon the sky would clear, opening the path to the enemy air force.

"We need to make an important decision now." She told the others.

"Do we?" Erwin seemed doubtful, although not outright hostile. Ysabelle still remembered that he wasn't especially opposed to Maria's command, and was even slightly enthusiastic of it, having followed her orders without questioning up to that point. His stance seemed to be caused by something else, maybe the commander's hesitant posture. He was a boy, after all.

"Yes. We've lost two tanks, and only have three left. I also understand that the crews might be tired and wary of fighting for much longer. I'm considering to having us pull out."

Ysabelle gasped at those words. She couldn't believe Maria, of all people, was actually considering pulling out of the battle without Messner's consent. She understood that sometimes combat commanders had to take those kinds of initiatives to save their units, but Hanna was right. In spite of their own fears, if the teenagers from the Baderberg Tank Squadron retreated, the Panzergrenadiers would be left to fend for themselves, without armor support.

"What?" Was the only thing Erwin managed to say. On the other hand, Augusta seemed relieved by Maria's standpoint.

"I want to know what is your opinion regarding this situation." Maria eyed each of the other two tank commanders, waiting for their reply.

In front of her, Erwin moved uncomfortably from one foot to the other. "Is this a democracy now?"

"Erwin…"

"Führerin, you are in the lead, remember?" He shook his head nervously, as if trying to gather the courage to say what needed to be said at the moment. "You haven't been wrong until now. Yes, Duck and Mallard Teams got hit, but we still managed to do our jobs."

"But, Morgernstern," Augusta began, "the crews are scared. Having all those shells flying around is isn't nice."

"Nor is it supposed to be, Fräulein Sauer. But we've came this far, haven't we?"

While they talked, Maria stood silent, eyes on the ground, her mind in a loop of doubt and confusion. Although when in the heat of battle the solutions came to her almost naturally, dealing with the human element of the squadron was something else entirely, especially without Anja there to help her with it. Ysabelle understood that at that moment. Maria only had her to back her up, even if she didn't realized it. Ysabelle felt that she had to do something.

"What about Panzer Vor?" She said all of a sudden, calling the attention of the three tank commanders. "Wasn't that supposed to be our battle cry? To represent our warrior spirit?"

As the others remained silent, Ysabelle decided to go on, moved by a strength she didn't even knew she had.

"We are committed to this! I know it's dangerous and scary, but we cannot turn our backs to Eren, Armin, and the others now!"

At that point Maria looked away, deeply thoughtful, and, for a moment, Ysabelle thought she did something wrong. And then the leader looked back to those around her, her eyes starting to regain the steely edge from before.

"Very well, then. If everyone agrees, we'll make one final effort."

Immediately Erwin assumed a more relaxed posture, an uneasy grin in his face.

"That's more like it!"

"Will we?" Augusta was much less enthusiastic.

"Yes." Maria replied, her voice hardening. The other girl sighed and resigned herself to the situation.

"Very well. One more effort."

With the decision taken, Erwin used the opportunity to make one more thing. He raised his right hand, tightly clenched in a fist. It took them a few seconds, but the girls realized what he was doing. They also raised their fists and yelled in chorus.

PANZER VOR!

And then they returned to their vehicles, ready to drive into the thick of it one more time.

"So, how's it going to be?" Hanna asked Maria once she was back to her post.

"We're going to fight one more time, Hanna." The commander replied. "I'm sorry."

The gunner smiled, albeit sadly. "Don't be. This is our job now, isn't it?"

Silence took hold of the fighting chamber once again. Ysabelle had idolized Maria for the last month, ever since she'd trusted her secrets to her. The sister of Marco Nitzschmann could only be a great warrior of the same caliber as her brother, and so she followed blindly, believing in every single of her decisions.

By now it became evident to her. Maria was simply human. In spite of everything she knew and her natural talent for combat, deep inside she was just a girl. Ysabelle sighed as the realization sunk in. And then, out of the blue, she started singing, the lyrics coming to her mind in the heat of the moment, as inspiring as they've always been to her.

Ob's stürmt oder schneit, ob die Sonne uns lacht,

Der Tag glühend heiß, oder eiskalt die Nacht,

Maria recognized the song immediately, in spite of the high-pitched voice of Ysabelle making it sound much cuter than it had any right to be. It was quite the popular song, actually, so once Simone and Hanna realized what it was they joined the tune.

Verstaubt sind die Gesichter, doch froh ist unser Sinn, ja, unser Sinn

Es braust unser Panzer im Sturmwind dahin.

At this point even Meike knew what it was that her friends were singing. It was fitting to their situation, after all. With the chorus repeating, Maria decided to also join in.

Es braust unser Panzer im Sturmwind dahin.

Mit donnernden Motoren, so schnell wie der Blitz,
Dem Feinde entgegen, im Panzer geschützt
Voraus den Kameraden, Im Kampfe ganz allein, Ja ganz allein.

So stoßen wir tief in die feindlichen Reih'n!

And so, the Panzer IV roared and moved forward, flanked by the M3 Medium and the StuG III.