Schutzengel [A World War 2 Roleplay[IC]]

[Iander]

14th November, 1942
7:32 AM
On the outskirts of Tobruk,
5 kilometers behind Allied lines

Julie put a hand to her head as her eyes opened, blinking several times as her eyes got used to the light. She looked around and realized she was sitting with her back against the side of a tank. When she got up and turned around, she realized it was their Panzer IV. She looked down her uniform. It had blood stains on it’s right side. She walked to the Panzer’s front.

The tank itself was a Panzer IV ausf. F2, the newest model of Panzer IV available to the Afrika Korps. The tank’s front showed clear signs of combat. It had a massive hole in the turret’s left side as well as right side, and also one on the lower hull. She jumped onto the tank’s hull and walked towards it’s turret. She opened the commander’s hatch and almost fell off of the tank when she saw the body parts that once made up the commander spread around the interior of the turret.

She put a hand in front of her mouth. She didn’t know why, it was almost instinctive. The tank looked like it had suffered an internal explosion, most likely caused by an explosion in the ammunition located right in front of the gunner’s seat. But then why hadn’t she been killed? Julie couldn’t remember bailing the tank, so how she had ended up on the outside, she didn’t know.

Then another question came to mind. What about all the others? She looked around the landscape. Several other tanks, German as well as Allied, stood burnt out in the inhospitable desert, almost looking like tombstones in the landscape. But which side had won? She jumped down from the tank and looked at the sun. It was either late afternoon or morning, because the sun was no way near mid. The only problem was, that she had no idea which way east was.

Scouting around the landscape, Julie could barely see what seemed like buildings a thousand meters or two away. That would have to be Tobruk. The last thing she remembered was fighting, but whether they were advancing or not, she did not remember. She decided to walk towards the city, hoping that someone there could explain what was going on.

OOC/Signups

[Der Kaiser Mikey III]

14th November, 1942
7:45 AM
On the outskirts of Tobruk
Fleeing Axis Caravan

A long column of vehicles stirred up dust, some military trucks carrying injured or fleeing men, others tanks trailing clouds of smoke, and still others officers town-cars piled with loot. Klaus Von Munster was one of the men who was sitting on top of a tank, smoking and spitting every now and then as bits of dust and sand flew into his mouth, but compared to some of the less fortunate men, he was blessed with a pair of goggles and sturdy tropical boots.

The caravan slowed down, and Klaus took up the MG34 mounted on the gun turret as the burning wrecks of some tank battle littered the desert on either side of the ancient road. Bodies and pieces of them were all around, and the smell of death and combustion hung in the air. Faces were solemn, and men were on their guard...

[Goram]

November 14th, 1942
0750
On the outskirts of Tobruk
3 miles behind the front lines


A small caravan of armour, trucks and men snaked it's way across the flat desert. Numbering six or seven vehicles, and a fully armed infantry company, the hodge podge of a unit had been tasked as a hunter-killer group. It was common knowledge on both sides that the front lines were not clear and that German units were stuck behind the British forward positions. No one had any doubt that these Germans would attempt to break out, back to their comrades.

With the victory at El-Alamein and the taking of Tobruk, there was no doubt that the Germans were on the run. However many of them still had fight left in them, and as far as these men were concerned the only good Jerry was a dead Jerry.

They'd cut their teeth in these hunting missions only the other day, when they intercepted a lone Panzer IV ausf. F2. The German tank never even got a shot off before three British tanks blew it away. The ammunition locker exploded, and all aboard were presumed killed. The one crew member who was seen to have bailed out, was gunned down with extreme prejudice.

The British infantry belonged to an infamous unit, the Black Watch. In days gone by they'd gone by the name "The 42nd Foot" and had earned battle honours at Waterloo and Balaclava to name but a few. The Highlanders had built an awesome reputation for violence and sheer killing ability. It was thought that no man alive could match the men in skirts in hand to hand combat. At current, the unit was halted. They'd received orders to locate and destroy a vast German column, that had been spotted by the Desert Air Force, attempting to escape. The orders were to halt and dig in, awaiting the German's arrival. Several other companies had similar orders and together the blocked off the most probable escape routes for the German units. This company of the Watch were well concealed, and even packed a pair of 6 pound anti-tank guns under camouflage netting. They had mortars, machine guns, PIATs and above all preregistered, on call artillery from a battery of 25 pound guns in Tobruk itself.

On one of the dug in Shermans sat a burly Sergeant Major by the name of Moore. He'd seen action with the Watch since he was but a teenager, in the waning days of the Great War. He'd served in the Empire in the 20's and 30's, before returning to France once again to combat the Nazi menace. At the ripe old age of 32, he was the definition of a career soldier. Now the Sergeant Major scanned the horizon, the heat shimmer made it hard to locate anything more than several miles distant. All Number One company could do was wait and hope the intelligence officers had made the right call. So now the Scotsmen sat in their holes and waited, bayonets fixed and weapons loaded for the opportune moment to launch their ambush.

[Iander]

Julie had walked for twenty minutes or so, and was now rather close to the city. In fact, she was close enough to take a look. It was doubtfully Tobruk. It was much smaller, with 10-20 houses, but buzzing with activity. She couldn't figure out if the men were German or English, but she knew it was her best chance of surviving.

She had joined the Afrika Korps for adventures, to live. Now, it would seem her fate might be bleeding to death in the inhospital deserts of Libya. As she got closer, a few hundred meters or so, she realized that the men wore Brodie helmets, not Stahlhelms. As she realized this, her heart skipped a beat. She would have to consider this carefully, as walking into the village might be her death.

But then, she heard the sound of an engine, coming her way. She was lying on a sand dune and quickly turned her head the way the noise came from. A jeep was coming her way. The jeep stopped 20 or so meters in front of her, and the driver jumped out. She was certain he had seen her, which would be hard not to in her Feldgrau uniform.

But Lady Luck was on Julie's side. The soldier simply got out and walked a few meters away from the car, back turned towards her. Julie didn't know exactly what to do, but an idea grew in her mind when she could see a beam of urine hitting the sand in front of him. She got up and, as silently as possible, ran towards the car, almost deafened by her heart. The Jeep was still on, she could her when she got closer.

She jumped in and pressed one of the foot pedals. When she realized that nothing was happening, she stepped on another one, and the jeep started rolling forward. Then she heard a yell. "Stop!" the voice of a young man said. But it was too late, and the jeep was in motion. She heard a hiss as a bullet flew over her head but didn't stop. She simply kept driving eastward.

[Der Kaiser Mikey III]

9:15 AM
Battalion HQ
Supply Depot

Klaus stepped onto the sand, entering the old WW1 British air hanger that had been converted into a German supply depot. Antique planes, furniture, and such were piled in one corner, while lines of vehicles were tightly packed inside, the engineers working round the clock to keep the army mobile.

He moved through to the offices in back, which were now occupied by the fleeing commanders who were trying to regroup and reorganize the fractured troops.

"What the bloody hell happened out there?" Roared Klaus' Oberst, a rather fat and refaced man with a thick blond mustache. "I ordered you to hold your ground!" He roared again, slamming his fist into the wall. Klaus said nothing, holding his tongue until the man calmed down enough to breath normally.

"We were surrounded, sir. We had to choose between certain defeat and waste of the Fuhrers tanks, or we could choose to join the caravan. We chose to retreat, but to fight again, mein Herr." He politely explained. After a few minutes, the Oberst waved him off, with a list of names and a signed order for a new Panzer. One that Klaus would command in the next assault on the Tommies.

[New Roman Empire]

14th November, 1942
7:55 AM
On the outskirts of Tobruk,
5 kilometers behind Allied front lines

Captain Brackmen was sleeping in a hole he dug. "Captain, wake up." Said the sargent. As he was shacking him. Then Captain Brackmen was starting to stir. Then he jolted up holding s knife to the sargents throat.

"Damn it, sargent."I said Captain Brackmen. Then he got up. "Did we win?" He asked. The sargent just stared at him. Then I grabed my Lee- Enfield and loaded it.

"Kinda, the germans are running." Said the sargent. Then he sat on a rock and looked at the sun. Then Brackmen signaled the sargent to round up the men.

[Goram]

0800
Black Watch, Number One Company ambush position

Despite the relative youth of the day, the sun was already blazing hot. In contrary to the usual prejudice against the Scots, the members of the 42nd Foot all wore standard British Army desert garb. This called for khaki shorts and shirts, but there wasn't a man in the battalion who didn't wish for a kilt, despite the fact that the woolen garment would probably be fair heavier and warmer.

As the sun continued to rise, a sudden commotion came up towards Moore's right flank. Straining his ears, the CSM heard something about running and gathering men. Before too long, a Sergeant returned with handful of men. It seemed to all present that a patrol was going out.

"gonnae no dae that"

Moore muttered under his breath. To most men, what had been said would have been completely incomprehensible as most of the troops from the Scottish highlands spoke a dialect of English rarely heard anywhere else. Even to some Scotsmen, they were completely unintelligible, but to a Highlander the message was clear as day. The Sergeant Major was essentially begging whoever the officer was, not to go out on this patrol.

After a few minutes, the officer in question was spotted, sat on a rock. As Moore had expected, it was the Liaison officer who had somehow become attached to the Watch in the pell mell assault on Tobruk. The Highlanders didn't much like newcomers, especially not an English newcomer and not one man in the company treated this Captain with anything more than disdain.

"Arite lads, pass the word. Tha' English Captain is plannin' a patrol. Am'no allowin' you to go if he tells you to. Tell him I gave you orders."

[Iander]

Julie kept driving until she saw what appeared to be camo nets and foxholes in the desert, only a few hundred meters before her. If these were British, then how would she get past? But what if they were German? Wouldn't they shoot at a British jeep? She really hadn't considered that yet. She kept driving, ready to at any given time jump out of the vehicle.

As she got closer, she realized they wore Brodies too. Were there anyone but British in the desert? Perhaps the others had complately abandoned Africa and left the British to rule as they'd like? She stopped. She looked in the back of the jeep. It had a few canisters, presumably containing fuel, a box of ammunition and a camo net. She thought of it a second and made her decision.

Julie would surrender, but she would not allow her enemy to get the supplies. Hoping she hadn't been seen, she put the canisters on the ground, all three, though one at a time, then the ammo box and lastly her P38. She then covered it with the netting and drowe forwards again, hoping for the British to accept her surrender.

When she got within 20 meter or so of the trenches, she jumped out with her hands in the air, saying "Engländer, ich ergebet mich!"

[Der Kaiser Mikey III]

Klaus peered through the periscope of the massive Tiger I he'd been assigned to, keeping vigil as it traveled with a motley crew of other panzers, all headed back toward British lines.

The column had been hastily constructed, and were all ill supplied. Orders were to loot any supplies until Tobruk could be retaken. No reinforcements would make it through, and the little supplies that did would be sporadic and unreliable. It seemed to Klaus like defeat was certain. But his orders were to continue, and that he did. He'd said no more than necessary to the crewmen, who treated him with equal silence and apprehension. Their gunner was a seasoned Veteran, the driver a transfer from a cooking truck, the loader a transferred artilleryman, and the radioman an aging school teacher who had joined the Wehrmacht in stead of his frail son. All were different, yet the same in their mission.

That was when the radio crackled, and voices could be heard in the headset of Herr Kraus, the teacher. Klaus picked up the spare, and listened in, placing them down when he was finished. The tommies had been spotted not but few kilometers to the West, and the Panzer division was now to hurtle themselves full swing into combat.

[Goram]

As Moore watched the English Captain with curiosity, a shout rolled across the position.

"Sergeant Major! Ah see a jeep!"

"Aite lads, stand to!"

Moore yelled in response.

As the jeep drew ever closer, more and more rifles came to bear on the vehicle speeding towards them. On all other occasions the war hardened Sergeant Major would have given the order to obliterate the oncoming vehicle, but on this occasion something stayed his hand.

At a twenty yard range, the driver slammed on the brakes and the jeep squealed to a halt. A small figure hurled itself from the vehicle and, with hands raised, shouted in German. Most of the Watch had expected a German, but none of them expected the figure that presented herself.

"It's a lass!"

One of the men said, in near disbelief. Indeed their eyes did not deceive them and the figure was, infact, female. Moore, surprised as the rest, managed to pull himself together and shout something that roughly translated to

"Stop staring like you've never seen a girl before! Bring her in!"

Several men, jumped out of their positions and advanced on the girl, rifles raised and bayonets fixed. The Corporal, a stocky man from Glasgow, roughly pushed the girl to the sandy ground and proceeded to vigorously pat her down before binding her hands and frogmarching her, at bayonet point, back to the lines.

Protocol called for the Officer Commanding, however the OC of the Company had been wounded in action recently and was in no state to take the young girl's surrender. Most of the other Officers had been killed or transferred out of this Battalion of lunatic Scotsmen and the only able bodied officer was a young 19 year old from a farm in the hills. Whilst the English airborne officer represented a possibility, no one wanted to give their prisoner up to him.

The boy was understandably nervous when brought before the captive, and despite some previous words of encouragement from his old Sergeant Major he barely stammered out

"Good Morning. I am Second Lieutenant Robert McGee. You have the honour of surrendering to Number One Company of the Black Watch, 51st Highlanders."

[Der Kaiser Mikey III]

More and more signs of combat greeted the panzer division as they continued Westward. The bodies seemed to multiply exponentially, and more often than not they had been lined along the road to await a pickup that would never arrive. Occasionally road crews could be seen collecting dog tags, adding them to already full crates that seemed to be on the threshold of bursting. That was the price of war.

Klaus ordered the crew to prepare themselves, and a shell was slammed into the gun. Reports had stated that they were close to the lines of combat. They were to push through, and create a small outpost along the road...a closer supply depot and base to stage the next assault. That was when the tank two spaces ahead of them exploded, the turret taking air and landing some 30 feet away, off to the side of the road.

[Iander]

Julie was born in a wealthy merchant's family and had attended private school, and therefore, she had also learnt English. But it seemed that she now had forgotten every single word she had ever learned in English when she needed it the most. But what to tell him? Rank, name and unit?

"Oberschütze Julie Riese, 21. Panzer Division, ich ergebe mich" she said, hoping that that would reply to any question he may have asked her. She was digging in her memory to find any English words that would help. She was good at English, and also remembered her teachings very well, but couldn't remember anything, to frightened by what might happen next.

[New Roman Empire]

Then the captain walked over to LT. McGee. Then he saw the german. "LT. McGee, Who is this and why was I not informed?" Asked Captain Brackmen. "Anyway, I got this telegram saying s german offensive might be on its wat to the front line." "They want us to prepare to move. If they attack they want us on that front line." Said Captain Brackmen.Then I stood there waiting for a reply.

[Der Kaiser Mikey III]

The Tiger fired its first shell as the tanks spread out, into the sand instead of the road. Chaos ensued, as were most desert battled. Plumes of sand shot into the air as incoming shells struck the desert floor. Men screamed, unseen in the sand and smoke. Flashes of light illuminated the confusion, and as they roared forward, the sounds of machine gun fire greeted them.

Klaus heard a fain buzzing noise, and as he left the seat beside the gunner to open the hatch and investigate, a loud explosion rocked the tank, a direct hit. Still it rolled on, despite the black smoke billowing around inside. The air burned Klaus lungs, and his sight was somehow blocked, he having been thrown around the small compartment by the explosion. He felt around, trying to wipe his eyes, to be greeted with soemthing wet covering his goggles. He felt around till he opened the hatch, releasing the smoke. He struggled for air, ignoring the gunfire all around him, removing the goggles, which were covered with blood. He checked himself, and hollered down for a report. All but the gunner responded...

[Goram]

As the men tried to coax some sort of answer out of the girl, they were soon joined by the English officer. He asked why he wasn't informed, to which McGee replied with nothing short of contempt. He may have been young, but he understood the violent dislike of the English.

"Because, Sir, you're not our officer. This is our prisoner. We'll be following our own orders Mr. English Captain Sir."

He said, adding slang here and there in an effort to confuse the Englishman. The Captain would have been foolish to argue, considering he was in the company of at least 10 of the Scottish soldiers, none of whom particularly cared for him.

It seemed clear that the prisoner did not speak English, and the fact the the young officer did not speak German left them with something of a dilemma. It was decided that, at the first possible chance, she would be loaded onto a truck and taken to Tobruk. If such a chance did not present itself, chances were that the young German would meet a swift end and a shallow grave in the hot sand.

For now, she was pushed into a solitary hole, with two of the soldiers. One of them covered her with a pistol whilst the other watched the line. The girl's hands were tied behind her back a bag placed over her head. It was best she didn't know the lay out of the ambush position, in case she escaped.

Only minutes later, a cry went up. German armour had been spotted on the horizon, closing fast. The company had been cleared for action for some time and it was just a matter of firing the presighted, preloaded, weaponry that the unit carried. At a range of 5,000 yards the Quick Firing six pounders engaged at the very limits of their maximum range. Getting a kill at this range would have been a one in a million shot, but the intent was to halt the Germans before they knew that was going on.

The first pair of armour piercing rounds were fired only minutes after the column had been sighted. At this point it was unknown if this was a counterattacking force or if it was the retreating units they were there to intercept, however it mattered not. Seconds after the rounds were fired, the lead tank exploded in a ball of flame, throwing it's turret off into the desert. The kill was credited to the gun crews, but it was more likely that the vehicle struck a mine or some such.

As the Germans drew closer, they would be engaged by the concealed Shermans and then by the infantry positions. Ultimately, should the Germans be close to overrunning the Scots, a battery of 25 pound guns would engage and effectively end the fight. Thus far it seemed the Scots were having the best of the fight. Two German tanks had already been killed and one of the new and widely feared Tigers had taken a direct hit from an armour piercing shell, and it was now pumping out thick black smoke.

The air was now filled with the staccato crackle of rifle fire, the long ripping noise of the machine guns and the deafening explosions caused by the heavier pieces being used by both sides.

[New Roman Empire]

"I told you!" Said Captain Brackmen. Then his squad formed on him. They ran yo the trenches to man their position. "Get that MG up!" Yelled Captain Brackmen. Then two men from his squad set up s MG.

[Der Kaiser Mikey III]

Trucks to the rear began to deposit soldiers into the field, then turn around and head back. Panzergrenadieren ran alongside the tanks, firing into the sands and the defenses concealed therein. Men were being struck down all around them, and with the gunner out of commission, and the turret most likely unsafe to operate, Klaus was forced to man the single MG34 on top. He took a breath, then took up the weapon and unleashed hellfire into the lines of Brodie helmets that appeared above the lips of foxholes...

[Goram]

Moore calmly worked the bolt of his rifle, not firing at anyone in particular rather attempting, like the rest of the company, to suppress the Germans with weight of lead. Both sides took casualties as rounds hissed through the air, and mortars exploded in the sand. Out of a full company, three men had been killed and a host more wounded with varying levels of severity.

Most of the Scots were battle hardened, and those who weren't soon would be. The men pointed bayonet tipped rifles, firing and reloading as fast as the bolts would allow them. The machine gun crews engaged with long bursts, several having to resort to urinating on the barrel sleeves to keep them cool enough to operate. Inaudible over the sounds of battle were the battle cries that the Scots offered, enlisted and officers alike, yelling obscenities at the Germans. Even the Company's wounded had limped forward and were fighting with anything they had at had. Even the wounded Major had pulled himself up and used a rifle as a crutch to hobble into a hole and blast away with his Webley revolver.

[Der Kaiser Mikey III]

Another explosion, from a mine no doubt, shook the tank, this one blasting off a tread, and sending the vehicle veering to the left. Klaus was thrown from the vehicle, and into the trench that harbored the enemy. He knocked down a soldier, whose rifle fired and struck the man next to him. Klaus rose, kicking the man in the jaw before drawing his sword and pistol. He fired twice, killing a man before downing another with a stab to the gut. He turned, silencing a machine gun before feeling a hot stab of pain in his shoulder. He fell back, the blade of a bayonet embedded deep below the collarbone.

[Goram]

The stricken Tiger rolled lazily towards the trenches, .303 calibre rounds impacting and deflecting at all angles, until a mine struck it squarely. One of the crew members, carrying a sword, leaped into a trench and managed to kill several of the British troops before Moore noticed.

The Sergeant Major came up behind the German and pulled his trigger. The weapon jammed in his hands and that left him with only one alternative. Drawing the weapon back, he thrust it forward with all his might, impaling the German on the long spike bayonet. Withdrawing it as the man fell, he thrust forward again, stabbing him a second time.

Satisfied the German was dead, he returned to putting rounds down range, as the presumed dead German was dragged out of the trench to give the troops more space. As this happened, the remained of the Tiger crew was fallen upon by the enraged Scots. Rifle butts were used as clubs and punches thrown. Whilst the tank crew fought valiantly, they had no chance and each one died on the end of a bayonet and left in the hot sun.

[Der Kaiser Mikey III]

The stricken Tiger rolled lazily towards the trenches, .303 calibre rounds impacting and deflecting at all angles, until a mine struck it squarely. One of the crew members, carrying a sword, leaped into a trench and managed to kill several of the British troops before Moore noticed.

The Sergeant Major came up behind the German and pulled his trigger. The weapon jammed in his hands and that left him with only one alternative. Drawing the weapon back, he thrust it forward with all his might, impaling the German on the long spike bayonet. Withdrawing it as the man fell, he thrust forward again, stabbing him a second time.

Satisfied the German was dead, he returned to putting rounds down range, as the presumed dead German was dragged out of the trench to give the troops more space. As this happened, the remained of the Tiger crew was fallen upon by the enraged Scots. Rifle butts were used as clubs and punches thrown. Whilst the tank crew fought valiantly, they had no chance and each one died on the end of a bayonet and left in the hot sun.

Klaus came to in the sand. from the odd angle he'd been deposited, he could see his pistol and sword at the bottom of the trench. It seemed as if the battle was in full swing, with German infantry now reaching the first line. Klaus rolled in, falling hard on his shoulder and cringing. He resisted the urge to yell and swear, for he knew it would mean his death. He crawled among the blood, filth, and gore of the trench before retrieving the weaponry. He took a few deep breaths, then slowly crawled to the first foxhole in sight that seemed unoccupied.

[Iander]

Julie was still sitting in a fox hole with two guards as the battle ensued. The extreme noise of the guns was only rarely broken, but even then replaced by the screams of the wounded. She was blindfolded and a such could not see what was going on, but she never the less had a nice idea of what was going on. This wasn't intended as a proper defence, this was to buy time. But for what?

Then another thought jumped to mind. What would her fellow Germans do to her for surrendering? If they did break through and find her, then what? Would she be shot for cowardice? But what if they didn't? Then what would the British do to her? She could only hope for the best, and perhaps even pray. She was a catholic, and although not the most religious person ever, she had attended church once or twice. She started praying for her life, and for that she may see her family again.

[Der Kaiser Mikey III]

Klaus sheathed his blade, fumbling with the weapon until it slid in. He took his breaths in deep shallow drags, ignoring the dead Brit who lay as his bench. He ate some of the mans bread, drank his whiskey, and smoked a cigarette, before daring to peep over the edge.

It seemed as if the majority of the combat had died down and moved on to the north, along the side of the trench. Men were still fighting in small pockets, but for the most part, it looked as if the English had won this section of the assault. He quickly pulled himself out, and half jogged half stumbled forward, in a partial delirium, till he fell face down into an unnoticed foxhole, and on top of three people crammed inside...

[Goram]

For the most part, the fighting in Number One Company's section of the line had tailed off to the odd machine gun burst or rifle shot being thrown at any movement in front of the lines. By the sounds of things, Numbers two and three companies where in the middle of giving the Germans a bloody nose, and the period rumble of artillery fire indicated that it was one hell of a fight.

"Arite lads. Fightin's over. Police up these bodies"

Moore yelled. Fighting was only part of the battle, now the dead had to be policed and the wounded looked after. The stretcher bearers had perhaps the grimmest jobs of all, tasked with removing the dead men and then acting as a burial detail. All in all, The British had lost 23 men killed and about the same number wounded leaving No. 1 company at around half strength. However, the defenses had done their job and not one tank had been seriously damaged.

As the burial details got to work, other men were tasked with granting the German's the same courtesy. The fallen foe where buried next to their smoldering vehicles. The Scots removed the bolts from German rifles and attached their bayonets. In lieu of a cross, the bayonet tipped rifle was driven into the ground and the dead man's helmet placed on the stock. Several of the Scots were deeply religious men who even took the time to say short prayers over the graves of the men they knew to have been killed by their hand or bullet.

Several German's had been taken alive in the action, who for want of an escort and ammunition, and been told to walk free back in the direction they'd come. In all the excitement, the Scots had almost forgotten about their female prisoner. And as the ammunition could not be spared to simply shoot her, and a guard could not be spared, Lieutenant McGee simply told the young girl to join the other prisoners in walking away. Whilst ammunition could not be spared, a bayonet or length of rope could be and the ex prisoners were told in no uncertain terms that they had two choices. They could either leave or die at the end of a bayonet or with a short drop and a sudden stop.

The greatest surprise of the day, however, came when a half dead German tanker fell into a machine gun nest. The black uniformed body fell directly onto a paraffin burner being used to brew tea. The teapot spilled into the sand, and the hot liquid fell into the lap of one of the Scots who, quick as a shot, leaped out of his trench. The other two, however, regarded the German with complete surprise before one gathered his wits enough to call for a stretcher bearer.

[Spetznaz Assault Teams]

Benjamin Silva
Polish Carpathian Brigade
Front Lines

Silva glanced back at his rag-tag squad of Poles. He and his men had fought, cursed, and bled their way out of Poland, and then Europe, after the Nazi's invaded. They had formed up out of a group of semi-elite Polish Infantry, and managed to break through the German lines, then make their way to Switzerland. From their, the men had stowed away on a boat to England, and joined up with the Polish Carpathian Brigade.

Benjamin Silva waved his hand forward, and the men jogged with him. They were now skirting just behind British Foxholes, toward where a brief but bloody tank and infantry battle had occurred just moments before. While the rest of the Polish Carpathian Brigade had their job, his squad had specific orders. Rain Hell on the Nazis, in any way you can. He and his Squad were overjoyed by their orders, and had taken them to the extremes. From those orders, they had crawled across German lines at night, blown up tanks, supply depots, and slaughtered entire squads in their sleep. It was bloody, unforgiving work, but it was killing Nazis, and there was nothing these men liked better.

They were coming up on the outskirts of the battle now, mostly wounded and dead lying around them. A Nazi came out from behind a burning tank, limping. He called out in English.

"I surr-" But got no further before one of Silva's men shot him point blank in the head.

"Cholera nazistowską drania. Jestem polską" The man cursed at the fallen body. Silva just kept jogging.