So....My Tank Corps in Prussia...

[AAA]

Arajs was uneasy as Hansen started to nod off to sleep again despite the constant din and buffeting of the blasts, the frost and hard earth. Hansen, tough nazi superman Hansen, was showing signs of finally breaking entirely. Trembling fits, freezing in front of that Soviet tank attack, pet Jews, rambling steel worker romantic poetry and now sleeping through a bomardment incoherantly mumbling about StuGs with field kitchens.

Fumbling defective panzerfausts with frozen hands on an empty stomach seemed a distinctly nasty propspect. Doubly so since Hansen needed watching. If only the commie artillerists would let up for about two minutes he could slip out and search the dead bolsheviks for a bit of rations. Maybe one of the those bloody handed commissars had bought it during the first attack - they inevitably had cigarettes or vodka bottles in their pockets.

"Where the f*** is the air support?" he asked noone in particular, and toyed with the idea of sending Hansen's pet on a suicide mission to search for a dead commissar, or maybe a red StuG with field kitchen, whichever came first.

[M.H.]

...
"Where the f*** is the air support?" he asked noone in particular,..."

"Probably having another go at the nice dames right now down in the "Zum besoffenen Spatzen". Mumbled Hansen with his back to Arajs.
"Nothing beats a flashy flyboy uniform to get things going...especially in this weather!"

Furtively he sniffed at his fingers again...'He would be damned but they still smelled! Could it really be??? What if...'.

Slowly he turned his tired body around to meet the suspicious glare of his latvian comrade.

[Commissar D, the Evil]

AARRRRGGGGHHH!!

Now everybody thinks they're a bloody writer--well, as Hansen and AAA would say, "Carry on, Kameraden!"

Very Best,
David

[Commissar D, the Evil]

In other days, Arajs and Hansen might have had a very different and extreme reaction to their "pet Jew".

But Moshe exposed himself unselfishly,each day to bring them their rations. Neither Arajs nor Hansen could find it in themselves, due to their ingrained prejudices, to properly thank him--after all, a runner of his sort had a very little life expectancy at this stage--but each saved a portion of their meager rations and saw to it that Moshe was fed as well as they were.

Himmler would have been outraged and had all three of them shot.

Of course, the Commissar intended much the same. His infantry and a few T-34's reached the outskirts of the town, during the middle of the Soviet barrage and immediately infiltrated towards the three JS-2's position.

Thus began the war of the "rubble rats". Submachine guns at close range in a ruined town was not the type of game that any trooper on either side welcomed. But it had come to that. Tanks were somewhat irrelevant in this battle, simply because there weren't enough of them to go around. That left the nearly the entire affair in the hands of the "poor bloody infantry"--who did their best and died by the hundreds from Machine-Guns, grenades, bullets, bayonets and even the sharpened edges of entrenching tools.

Arajs and Hansen, being "old hares"in this war, weren't exactly the first soldiers out of their holes. But, their mutual and very hard earned respect, forced them into the raging battle. The Latvian S.S. troops followed them out of a mixture of respect and loyalty, but a walk of two city blocks brought them immediately into the fight. While they dodged and fired, Von Rosselsprung, the Festung commander planned ahead.

While he desired that any penetration of his lines be repelled with force, he wasn't ignorant of the events on his flanks or the massive force the Soviets could drive into Bad Frostberg.

His information came from Ulrich's and Tom's armored cars as well as a few random patrols. Each car was stationed on different flanks, but nonetheless, regarded as reliable sources of information. The maps told him the truth, and it was all very ugly. But Rosselsprung was, to the end, a practical and near visionary Commander, possessing neither soul, conscience nor fear.

[Commissar D, the Evil]

Wirblewind and Hauptman Robert Kohler, flew from their Hs-129's from their forward base, all that their squadron could aford at th moment. Wirblewind's ground attack fighter was all-white, in winter camouflage, while Kohler's machine wore a defiant all black, under the pessimistic theory that no camouflage would save the driver from any Soviet fighter.

For the first time, they were deliberately given the target of Bad Frostberg and briefed on the city's defenses and opposition.

It was odd, Wirblewind thought, to be targeted against a section of a German city, but such was war and both pilot's, somewhat oddly, wanted the mission.

"Defend the Fatherland" was such a hollow slogan when they were flying at Kusk or, before that, on the Don or at Kharkov--now it meant something, although neither would have preferred it to come to this.

So, they flung themselves willingly, despite the mass of Russian anti-aircraft guns and dominating flights of Russian fighters into the burning inferno of Bad Frostberg.

[Luftman129]

So, they flung themselves willingly, despite the mass of Russian anti-aircraft guns and dominating flights of Russian fighters into the burning inferno of Bad Frostberg.

Wow, air support for us at last!

Thanks,
Chris

[Commissar D, the Evil]

Phylo's three Panthers moved slowly towards the lodgment of JS-2's in the Southern suburbs.

All of his men were Ostfront veterans and knew the risks, which was the reason they moved so cautiously through the rubbles-strewn streets towards their objective. All of them knew that, against JS-2's, they were vulnerable and it would cost them at least one and, probably, two tanks to achieve their objective.

They accepted this mission with fatalistic calm, despite their apparent caution.

"Orders are orders", each of the panzer-men reminded themselves. And only the Festung Commander could withdraw them, an unlikely event indeed.

Still, it was a hopeful sign that their own infantry fought in the streets and houses before them, clearing each one of the strikingly determined "Ivans". The Panzer crews didn't know it at the time, but this was largely Hansen's, Araj's and their S.S. troop's work. Flinging themselves out of their precious and seemingly safe shell-holes, the Waffen S.S. and the regular Army soldiers pushed heroically against the enemy.

Even then, the best of the now disbanded Volksstrum surged forward and joined them in a single-minded and suicidal defense of their homes, despite Rosselsprung's orders to the otherwise.

The the Soviet infantry facing them was confronted with the thought of either withdrawing from their forward positions or face a veritable rain of panzerfausts.

Hansen, Arajs and the Latvian S.S. generally had little time for the panzerfausts, however handy they might be under the circumstances. They fought their own little individual battles--always fatal to someone--with MP-40s and short bursts of fire, or with stick grenades in the already destroyed hallways, cellars and tumbled-down walls of the city. For them, it was a nightmare of dust, blood and the draining slow progress. With each "small fight", good men died and each inch won only meant a Kamerad's blood-stain on a wall or floor, whic led to a small bit of their willpower and courage inevitably seeped away.

[Commissar D, the Evil]

All the Commissar could see from his possession was enveloping cloud of dust and smoke thrown up by his own artillery. None of his messengers returned, so, he was in the unclear position of either reinforcing success or failure.

But Commissar D's eyes were focused far past Bad Frostberg, at the Baltic Sea not far beyond it.

It was indeed an odd, strange thing--that, after all these years of war, he was transfixed by a goal beyond his sight.

An odd, odd thing indeed.

[Luftman129]

What's odder still is that there was a Kriegsmarine officer defending the railway station with an armored railroad car.

Thanks,
Chris

[Commissar D, the Evil]

Aw Chris, I think he sees it as a "Pocket Battleship".

Cheers,
David

[phylo_roadking]

But Moshe exposed himself unselfishly

hmmm...all guys together....

[Luftman129]

Aw Chris, I think he sees it as a "Pocket Battleship".

Cheers,
David

Haha, yes, a "Pocket Battleship" indeed!

Thanks,
Chris

[Commissar D, the Evil]

Stay tuned Mates, all is not as it seems......

Best,
~Commissar D, the EviL

[Commissar D, the Evil]

The only real problem with close combat with the Russians was that it was indeed close combat.

Arajs and Hansen were quite content to sit in their shell-hole until three Russian grenades arrived at the same time. Both threw themselves forwards in their truly desperate attempts to escape death.

The only difference in their escapes was that Hansen landed in a shell-hole full of Russians while Arajs threw himself into a remarkably empty, if muddy, trench. The Russian grenades exploded, throwing back mud in his face, but, in the meantime, even before the explosions, Hansen was trying his best to clear a Soviet shell-hole with an MP-40 and one clip of ammunition.

He quickly ran out of ammunition and cursed the simple fact that his submachine gun didn't carry a lug for a bayonet-not that any of the surviving Russians would have been overly impressed by cold steel at the moment.

So Hansen was left with a dry gun, a vindicative swarm of Russians and no reasonable hope of reinforcement.

[M.H.]

...
So Hansen was left with a dry gun, a vindicative swarm of Russians and no reasonable hope of reinforcement.

*gulp*

So...is now the time?