World on Fire: Crows to Peck the Eagles (IC, Closed)

[Wolfenium]

Nahe an Nakhimovskoye, Smolensk Oblast,
Russische Sozialistische Föderative Sowjetrepublik, Union der Sozialistischen Sowjetrepubliken
7 February 1942

Rhzev, the Meat Grinder.

The frigid winter had given way to spring, and the infamous sticky mud of the Rasputisa had once again taken its shift to grind the German Wehrmacht to a muddy halt. The faltering assault towards the Soviet capital of Moscow had allowed the communist resistance to take a much needed breather, and now, seizing upon the overstretched forces of Army Group Center, Red Army elements under Grigory Zhukov stormed what was to become the Rzhev salient, a daring, audacious assault to sever the occupied city and its defenders from the main line. However, the assault came far too early, and while intended to exploit the victory at Moscow, the Red Army was still reeling from the losses of the previous year. Thus, lacking munitions, manpower and a pathological fear of retreating against Stalin's orders, the offensive ground into a slog, falling ever behind its daring goals for a decisive engagement.

Standing atop the Dneiper river, a rural concrete bridge, the work of Soviet heavy industrialization under the five year plans, laid riddled with bullets and small crater scars. Littered atop its reasonable span burnt bodies and tank carcasses, charred from a recent engagement as dozens line the road into Nakhimovskoye. Sitting on a Soviet SSh-40 helmet in the middle of the road facing the Soviet line, a lone German officer heaved away at the noxious smoke billowing through his cigarette. Removing the butt from his fingers, he let out a long blow as the smoke expelled into the air, drifting along the wind as it hushed silently at the ruined landscape.

For the officer, the line of a wrecked spearhead was anything but a cause for joy. They had been here for days, and already, he and his beleaguered platoon had held off three consecutive assaults. On paper, he was a proud major in command of an independent 'Fighting Group' dispatched to aid Hoepner's Panzer Group 4. In practice, he was a jaded commander in charge of a company of social rejects, 'reformed' criminals and god-knows-who-else, cut down to nearly a third of its fighting strength, with a third more wounded and dying. And yet, no word came of a counteroffensive planned for the area, and hopes for a retreat and demolition of the bridge remained utterly dashed. But the haggard, stubbled smoker with worn eyes and frazzled black hair had yet to cave in. He was not about to die here, and as faint as it may be, he did hope for a change of heart from his superiors.

"Ah," blurted the sullen young man, as he pulled out an empty cigarette box from a breast pocket of his unbuttoned jacket, "need another stick."

Forcing himself up, the slouched officer tossed away the stub as he stepped it into the muddy road. Making his way towards a shelled-out farmhouse, his ears picked up the flurry of activity still buzzing away within. Shell craters, again remains of earlier battles, scatter throughout the village, as enemy mortars and artillery bombarded the position before and after each failed push. But worse news laid inside the makeshift headquarters inside.

"AAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHH," went a hapless soldier on a bloodstained stretcher, as a masked medic with tweezers dug out some shrapnel from his arm. All around the room, the dead and wounded were piled along the line, pushing the lone medic and her helpers to the limit. A sand blonde girl no older than her mid-teens, the medic was an oddity among an army built around the chauvinistic idea of a homemaking woman. In fact, what few combat fit members at his disposal were women, though much of this was far from a conscious choice of his. Watching his step around the casualties, the grim-faced officer entered an adjacent room, a small cellar with a captured Russian radio set. There, a young blonde, somewhat older than the medic from earlier, appeared deeply engaged in her work, trying to contact their superiors in Gzhatsk^[1].

"Any word," the impatient young man said quickly, seizing another box of cigarettes from a cabinet beside her.

"Nothing but static and Slav songs, Heinrich," the frantic operator said, the receiver clamped between her shoulder and tilted head as she tied her hair, "I've sent out seven requests to HQ for a withdrawal. I'm still trying to get a-"

"...Geier! Come-*static* Geier..." the radio suddenly cracked to life, prompting the girl to sit up as she grasped the receiver more closely. "Hello, Panzer 4 HQ," she quickly contacted, "this is Geier, over! Defences at Nakhimovskoye has crumbled. We've sustained heavy casualties and request withdrawal, over!"

"Copy t-*static*" cracked the radio, "*static*-est denied. Y-*static*-hold position *static*-orcements arri-*static*-counterattacl. Do *static* -ow the b*static*. I rep-*static* -o not blow the bridge-*static*"

Heinrich... did not take the refusal well. Seizing the receiver from his aide, he barked, ""the fuck you mean 'hold'!? I'm down to less than twenty men and a whole lot more deadweight wailing for a mommy or a body bag! Reds have more tanks than I have mags! How long can you expect me to hold!? Over!"

But again, the radio spurted, "*static*-old position! Help is o-*static*-way! *static*-need bridge-*static*. Your sacrifices will not be forgot-"

It was the final straw, as the pissed officer shot up the radio in a fit of anger. Shocked by the sudden shudder of rounds blasting from his gun, the secretary backed up in her seat as she saw the blood rush to the major's head. The smoking Mauser C96 on hand, he heaved heavily as he tried to get a grip on himself. Wiping his face, he seemed to be contemplating deeply on his options. As far as this went, he was committing a dereliction of duty, even if he doubted strongly that the bridge would ever be used by anyone not armed with a Mosin-Nagant.

"Tell Stella to blow the bridge," he grunted to the secretary, "I'm not waiting out another Red Rush just so some Panzers can take an afternoon drive. She set the charges, didn't she?"

"You said to set them up the moment we got here," Idunn reported, "Stella was done by nightfall."

"Right," grumbled the officer, heaving another puff of his smoke, "get the wounded in the trucks. We're getting out of the mudheap before anything big hap-"

*FHOOP*

Without warning, the ground behind the two exploded in a fountain of mud and flame, as a mortar exploded in dangerous proximity to them. Diving on the dirt, the stunned officer took the time to observe the shock attack as more rounds began to fall over their positions. Gritting his teeth as the tobacco bud squeezed its bitter contents into his mouth, Heinrich hurriedly got to his feet as he spat the stick out. Grabbing his secretary's hand, he quickly hauled them under cover as he tried to howl orders amidst the noise.

"Blow the bridge," he demanded from his unseen demolitions girl, "everyone get ready to start running. Stella, the fuck you go, bitch!? Blow the bridge! Schnell!"

"Ja, sir," yelped a girl's voice from the river bank, waving over a shell crater as the mortars continued to batter the defenders. Holed up in a position overlooking the road, a redhead, broad-chest girl tried to keep her head low as fragments flew overhead. Guarded by a plain-looking lad with round spectacles and an MP 35, she hastily leopard-crawled towards a mud-soaked demolition switch, grabbing the handle as she check the connection ports. However, as she twisted the switch, she could hear no eerie explosions from the bridge. A few more tugs finally forced her to look over the edge, as the bridge stood ominously intact amidst the barrage.

"Charges aren't working," she called, "they went dud!"

This bode ill news for the major. Biting his nail as he loaded his pistol, he yelled, "fuck! Then fix it! I don't care how! Running's no good if they can follow us! Find the break in the wires!"

"Find the break," cried out the startled soldier beside Stella as he tried to keep his head low from the shelling, "that's insane! They're trying to level the place!"

"Shaddup," his officer cursed again, "we're not hear to make complaints! Just get to it!"

Biting his lower lip as his blood began to rush, the hapless lad waited for the pause as he and his charge dashed out into the open. Following the line, they tried to spot for the break as they kept dodging between each crater. But the bank was exposed, and immensely dangerous. However, there was no time for them to worry about being blown to bits. The worst was still to come.

"I... I think it's dying down," Idunn commented, looking up as the mortar fire began to slow. She had a nagging suspicion a push was coming. Crawling back to the farmhouse with Heinrich, the two were hoping to make a headcount of the losses. But awaiting them was a shelled out ruin hit directly by a mortar, a platter of red and grey splattered across a wide radius over their wrecked carcass of a truck. Standing mortified in the middle, the medic appeared unnerved, coated from head to toe in the patients she was treating much earlier. Her hands outstretched, she appeared to have been casting a spell, trying to shield herself and a wounded soldier in a stretcher from the blast. But the barrier had limits, and did not appear to last long enough to keep out the ensuing mess. Sensing a breakdown, Idunn quickly tried to approach her, trying to calm the frightened girl down.

"It's ok. Ms Schwalbe, it's ok," she urged, "you're safe with us. You're ok. Try to calm down, you're fine."

"Ihhhh," she uttered in a jitter, pulling her hand back from Idunn's reach as she frantically tried to wipe the blood. Incoherent babble riddled from her tongue as she lost her nerves, as the secretary tried to hold on to her arms. Out of the ruins, a seemingly random rabbit hopped in as it too tried to coddle the poor medic to calm down. Amidst the manic counselling, the major merely looked on at the horror in frustration, bitterness riddled on his face, not with pity, but agitation.

"Great," he grumbled, taking another look at the sky as the last mortar shells stopped flying, "they're coming. Any minute now, Glitter Girl! We don't have any time!"

"I'm looking, I'm looking," called back the angered Stella, still pulling along the length of the wire with her escort as she tried to spot for faults. Shuffling her feet, she seemed increasingly desperate. But halfway down the cables, rifle shots soon started ringing. Beyond the river, the faint humming of diesel tanks was beginning to rumble in the distance. The Red Army was coming, and Major Heinrich von Wolfenstein, and his Strafkampfgruppe Geier was staring annihilation in the face.

Supernatural WW2 Penal Soldier Action
Chapter I: Crows to Peck the Eagles

---

1. Gagarin, Smolensk Oblast. Renamed in real life in 1968 in celebration of the first man in space.

[Minroz]

Situated near the banks of Dnieper River and the head of the bridge is a small trench, already dug up by the German soldiers who’ve already occupied it. These soldiers in question are members of Strafkampfgruppe Geier. Unlike their comrades who’re social rejects, they are regular members of the Wehrmacht – decent men who’re carrying out their duty as soldiers of their fatherland. Before Operation Barbarossa, they were once a squad of thirteen men, now only seven are alive and fit for combat. What happens to the other six, they are unfortunately dead, either killed-in-action or died of their wounds in the makeshift triage. Now, it seems to this particular squad that they’re on their own.

The remaining squad is commanded by Captain Arno Groebbel, a capable soldier hailing from the Prussian aristocracy and a humble man who adhered strictly to his military duties. Beneath his professional exterior, he is slightly jaded as much as his superior officer (Heinrich), Arno frankly believed there’s no way to hold his squad’s position for another Soviet assault. His men didn’t have enough ammo to hold up another enemy attack and not to mention he had lost six good men under his command already. Regardless, Arno will follow his orders and fight to the last man if necessary, if only to preserve his pride as a soldier.

Crouching in the trenches with his men, he glared at the other side of the Dnieper River as noises of the Soviet barrage came looming over his head. Arno and his men ducked into cover as the barrage hits the ground.

“Shiesse!” The blonde captain cursed, putting his left hand to hold his stahlhelm helmet while his right holding on to his Kar98k.

“Hauptman, you know we’re low on ammo! We can’t hold this position forever for God knows where!”Called out Lieutenant Helmut Schmidt, Arno’s straight-laced adjutant who is next to him, clutching on Kar98k.

“In that case, shoot carefully and don’t waste any ammunition from now. Use our guns as clubs if necessary. We will hold here unless Herr Major Wolfenstein decides otherwise. Tell the men to hang on.”

“Jawohl!”

“Gott im himmel, can someone put the cork on the Russkie guns?” Muttered Gefreiter Seighard Reier, the squad marksman and perhaps one of the Geier’s ace snipers, highly known for his sarcasm.

“Geez wiseguy, did you want to die that badly?” Soldat Herman Kohl retorted to Seighard, clutching his MP 40.

“I didn’t say about it, Kohl. I wish we have more ammo and less Russkies to take out. And I want to go home and have a wife, that’s what I want.”

“You’re not the only one. Sadly, nothing we can say for sure unfortunately. We’re in this together.” Gefreiter Kasimir Abt, Seighard’s best friend and squad’s plump machine-gunner, armed with his MG 34 in anticipation of the approaching Soviet forces.

“Hmm, so beautiful~.” Soldat Hugo Bohn hummed, enjoying the scenery despite the grim backdrop his comrades is placed in. For some reason, he didn’t seem to be apprehensive like his squadmates in the face of annihilation.

“I don’t want to die now. Not like this.” says Soldat Albert Baum, the youngest man in the squad, no older than his late teens. Cringed at the sight of Soviet explosions, he gripped his Kar98K with nervousness. His nervousness disappeared when Helmut gave a sympathetic pat on Albert’s shoulder for reassurances.

“At ease Soldat, remember your training and what we’ve been through. Most importantly, we’re not dead Albert. As long as we fight well, we won’t fall. If it comes to death, make sure we do it in the glorious way so much we gave the Ivans a hell to remember. Alright?” Helmut consoled his younger charge.

“Ja, sir.” Albert made a weak smile in response.

“Good boy.” Helmut smiled, patting the lad once more before returning to Arno.

“How is the boy holding up?” He questioned his adjutant.

“Shaken but alright. We’re scared as you are. I guess this is it for us, sir.” The redhead lieutenant replied, cocking his rifle.

“No doubt it, Schmidt. That is if we don’t survive.” Arno spoke, using his binoculars to find the Soviet forces coming in.

“Hmm, when it comes to that, it’s an honour serving with you.”

Arno’s men will hold their defensive position for now. They probably figured it’s better to die gloriously than to suffer. Unless their superior officer Major Heinrich Wolfenstein ordered them otherwise, they would possibly live to see another battle.

[Wolfenium]

"...comrades, the fascist jackals lie in wait across the river! Their pestilence on our homeland will be put to heel! Comrade Stalin demands only their heads! Crush them beneath your treads!"

Ringing from what captured radios the unit had seized, the Soviet commander hollered his men for the final push across the river. In the distance, the hum of the dreaded T-34s began to echo into earshot, as their facades began to peer out from the forests. With only a single bridge between them and Geier, the hulking metal coffins began to line behind a KV-1, intent on crossing the bridge under the guard of the heavy tank. Such show of force, despite the ridiculous imbalance, hinted at a desperation from the Soviet force to break through their positions. While not confirmed, it appeared they anticipated much heavier resistance - the past few days seemed to have given their commanders an inflated view of German resistance, once that was almost insignificant before, and virtually non-existent now.

Looking around the scene, the major yelled in anger, "AT! Where's the AT! For the love of fuck where's-"

"-the AT?"

Bereft of its now-mincemeat crew, the PaK 40, one of the few German guns they acquired throughout the campaign, laid silent and in disuse. Cannon fire from the opposing Soviet tanks began reducing the already pounded bank into an even deeper brown, unconvinced or intent on the defences' destruction. With only a few dozen shots left, it was far from enough to stop the columns, but he had no choice but to stall them. They could not leave until the bridge was destroyed, lest they get overrun.

"Man the AT," he barked at whoever was still moving and not on a crewed gun, "man the AT! I want that KV nailed down on the bridge! Make a wall out of those metal scheiße!"

The good news was, the bridge was so narrow, only two tanks could probably travel side by side along its span. If they could disable the lead and whichever tanks that try to bypass it, they might be able to stall the advance. If not, it was every man for himself. They had little other means to take the tanks down, and the entire unit was very close to routing.

[Minroz]

"Man the AT," he barked at whoever was still moving and not on a crewed gun, "man the AT! I want that KV nailed down on the bridge! Make a wall out of those metal scheiße!"

The good news was, the bridge was so narrow, only two tanks could probably travel side by side along its span. If they could disable the lead and whichever tanks that try to bypass it, they might be able to stall the advance. If not, it was every man for himself. They had little other means to take the tanks down, and the entire unit was very close to routing.

“Jawohl, mein commandant!” Aron replied. He already figured out what his superior officer had in mind. Yet this means a lot of risks of getting hit by the Russian tank guns for him and his men. There’s no other choice.

“Schmidt!”

“Ja?” Helmut responded.

“Take Reier and Bohn with you and Man the AT over there! Fired them at the Russian tincans when they come onto the bridge, on the double!”Aron ordered.

“Jawohl!” without question, Helmut did as he’s told. Together, him, Seighard and Hugo rushed to the abandoned PaK-40. Eventually, the three finally manned the gun with Seighard as a gunner while Helmut acted as a watcher and Hugo is the loader. Swivelling the gun themselves, they aimed at the lead Soviet tanks on the bridge in particularly the KV-1.

“Feuer!” The redhead adjutant barked. The PaK-40 fired.

*Booom!!!*

[Cybraxia]

Silence.

That was all that Makoto wanted. A bit of respite before a battle. Was that to much to ask for?

Apparently so, as the booming of the cannons indicated. This future that he was now a part of... it was terrifying. Not that he'd show fear. He was trained against such distractions. To show fear was to show weakness. It would be a dereliction of his code, of his standards.

He had spent the last two weeks insuring that his condition was that of what it was when he was put under. And it was. He could perform all that he could all those years ago.

But why did it all feel so... wrong?

He pushed those thoughts out. It was not good to doubt yourself. He must adhere to the oath that he had sworn. He was dedicated to the protection of Japan and all who stood with her. Although the foes and names may have changed, his duty did not. He would be the Typhoon of Shadow, cutting down the horde that would descend.

His eyes snapped open, and he readied himself, equipping his armor and weapons. He started to leave, but looked down at his blade. 「影で燃やす」 (Kage de moyasu). A cursed tachi, used only by himself. It had been bound to him long ago, and it shall remain so until he died. Then his soul would enter it and find a new wielder. One worthy of it's power.

He stared for a solid minute before shaking his head. He had things to do. The enemy was upon their doorstep. He exited the tent and searched for the commanding officer.

[Wolfenium]

"Man the AT," he barked at whoever was still moving and not on a crewed gun, "man the AT! I want that KV nailed down on the bridge! Make a wall out of those metal scheiße!"

The good news was, the bridge was so narrow, only two tanks could probably travel side by side along its span. If they could disable the lead and whichever tanks that try to bypass it, they might be able to stall the advance. If not, it was every man for himself. They had little other means to take the tanks down, and the entire unit was very close to routing.

“Jawohl, mein commandant!” Aron replied. He already figured out what his superior officer had in mind. Yet this means a lot of risks of getting hit by the Russian tank guns for him and his men. There’s no other choice.

“Schmidt!”

“Ja?” Helmut responded.

“Take Reier and Bohn with you and Man the AT over there! Fired them at the Russian tincans when they come onto the bridge, on the double!”Aron ordered.

“Jawohl!” without question, Helmut did as he’s told. Together, him, Seighard and Hugo rushed to the abandoned PaK-40. Eventually, the three finally manned the gun with Seighard as a gunner while Helmut acted as a watcher and Hugo is the loader. Swivelling the gun themselves, they aimed at the lead Soviet tanks on the bridge in particularly the KV-1.

“Feuer!” The redhead adjutant barked. The PaK-40 fired.

*Booom!!!*

*Ping*

To abject horror, the shot ricocheted off the thick armour of the monstrous KV-1, as the tank column continued its relentless march. As the crews tried to lodge another shot, it too simply scraped off the tank like a pinball. Agitated, the major rushed over to the gun as the KV's turret started pivoting in their direction. Tapping on one of the rounds, he whispered a short incantation, causing the weapon to glow white hot.

"Must I do everything myself," he grumbled, shoving the round in as he shot the round. This time, the KV would not be so lucky, the round punching into the turret head as it opened up in a blooming inferno. Picking up another round, he shoved the piece to Hugo as he stated, "carry on. Do what I did just now. Aim for weak spots. We don't have that much ammo left. Make it count."

He could tell one dead tank was not going to slow the column down. With the lead tank out of action, the T-34s were already trying to bypass it, turning beside the burning carcass as the lead T-34 had its sights on the anti-tank gun.

Silence.

That was all that Makoto wanted. A bit of respite before a battle. Was that to much to ask for?

Apparently so, as the booming of the cannons indicated. This future that he was now a part of... it was terrifying. Not that he'd show fear. He was trained against such distractions. To show fear was to show weakness. It would be a dereliction of his code, of his standards.

He had spent the last two weeks insuring that his condition was that of what it was when he was put under. And it was. He could perform all that he could all those years ago.

But why did it all feel so... wrong?

He pushed those thoughts out. It was not good to doubt yourself. He must adhere to the oath that he had sworn. He was dedicated to the protection of Japan and all who stood with her. Although the foes and names may have changed, his duty did not. He would be the Typhoon of Shadow, cutting down the horde that would descend.

His eyes snapped open, and he readied himself, equipping his armor and weapons. He started to leave, but looked down at his blade. 「影で燃やす」 (Kage de moyasu). A cursed blade, used only by himself. It had been bound to him long ago, and it shall remain so until he died. Then his soul would enter it and find a new wielder. One worthy of it's power.

He stared for a solid minute before shaking his head. He had things to do. The enemy was upon their doorstep. He exited the tent and searched for the commanding officer.

Marching back, the ill-tempered major noticed the stoic warrior decked in full Hatamoto armour, still unfettered by the battle around him. Laying his palm over his ashen face, Heinrich could feel his temper reach boiling point. He was not sure if the ancient warrior was that dense to get on with the times.

"You took your sweet time," he cursed, trying to suppress his frustration, "maybe you need some tea before your pre-battle duel. Sword's no good here for now. Idunn and Schwalbe needs help searching for survivors in the farm, or what's left. If any Reds appear, kill them. I don't want to spend the next few months looking for a medic."

Despite his snide remark, however, Heinrich was conscious of Makoto's limits. He was, in effect, a close combat fighter, and telling him to stop a tank column was outright unreasonable, even suicidal. At the very least, he needed someone to watch Laila and Idunn while they try to get the wounded out. He would be needed in case the Red Army tried to get infantry ashore.

[Sonitusia]

Luisa wasn't exactly a fan of the Soviet front. Well, it was hard to be in the first place. But the fact that she wasn't going to be killing any of the men that had gunned down her father made her prefer sweating in the jungles of the Pacific with the Nipponese soldiers and fight the bloody Brits, Dutch, Australians, whatever. But no, here she was, in this shithole of a country, fighting an enemy she only knew from news reels. It really added up how much annoyance she had, but the Alpini soldier just had to bear with it.

Running towards the anti-tank gun position, seeing the column of dangerously sloped tanks moving forwards steadily, she pushed aside whoever was manning the gun whilst gritting her teeth, and grabbed the weapon with both hands. Momentarily her hands glowed, and the aura washed over the gun quickly. It then disappeared, and suddenly she began aiming the weapon without even touching it, only loading a shell and chanting under her breath, letting the 75mm gun do its work. With a deafening 'boom', a round was fired through the muzzle, and hit the lead T-34 in its driver's port. Ducking behind the gun shield as shots were fired towards her, she continued to guide the gun simply by looking at the tank that she wanted destroyed.

The sentient weapon did the rest of the work for her. "Fermare quei Soviet, idioti!" she shouted, calling everyone around her a fool while she struggled to continue coordinating the shots, only milimeters away from certain death.

[Cybraxia]

Makoto's eyes snapped to the Major as he coldly regarded him. It would seem that those of this time have little respect for his prowess, something he'd take to his advantage. He strode over to the nearest AT position and after a moment of searching, handed an Ofuda to the gunner. "Adhere this to your next shell, and fire at our end of the bridge. The middle of the opening is preferable." He said, still struggling with the language.

He turned to the major. "We call this kind of seal a 'fog gate'. It allows one way passage of entities. This particular one is more transparent, and has been modified to be attached to the explosives you use. It is not wide enough to completely block off the bridge, but it will stop the tanks for now. That is, if that is acceptable for my antiquated methods. It should allow for ten minutes of area denial."

With that, he began his trek to the farm, not waiting for a reply from the major.

Out of all the things that had trouble adapting, his magic did not. In fact, it was better than ever, at least as soon as he learned the translations of words in Japanese. This new technology allowed for more versatility in combat. A skilled warrior-mage could easily hold off forces many times his own, provided the enemy had no counter-mages. And as much as he hated to admit it, the firearms of this time were actually decent weapons. Gone were the days of reloading after every shot. Killing people had never been more efficient! He himself had settled for a pair of Walther PPKs. Although he preferred the uniqueness of revolver-type pistols, the lack of both available weapons and ammunition for those weapons forced necessity rather than want. And he admitted, the pistols were effective. Small, concealable, reliable. He had to admit, German engineering was good. Now if only their command was as competent...

[Wolfenium]

Luisa wasn't exactly a fan of the Soviet front. Well, it was hard to be in the first place. But the fact that she wasn't going to be killing any of the men that had gunned down her father made her prefer sweating in the jungles of the Pacific with the Nipponese soldiers and fight the bloody Brits, Dutch, Australians, whatever. But no, here she was, in this shithole of a country, fighting an enemy she only knew from news reels. It really added up how much annoyance she had, but the Alpini soldier just had to bear with it.

Running towards the anti-tank gun position, seeing the column of dangerously sloped tanks moving forwards steadily, she pushed aside whoever was manning the gun whilst gritting her teeth, and grabbed the weapon with both hands. Momentarily her hands glowed, and the aura washed over the gun quickly. It then disappeared, and suddenly she began aiming the weapon without even touching it, only loading a shell and chanting under her breath, letting the 75mm gun do its work. With a deafening 'boom', a round was fired through the muzzle, and hit the lead T-34 in its driver's port. Ducking behind the gun shield as shots were fired towards her, she continued to guide the gun simply by looking at the tank that she wanted destroyed.

The sentient weapon did the rest of the work for her. "Fermare quei Soviet, idioti!" she shouted, calling everyone around her a fool while she struggled to continue coordinating the shots, only milimeters away from certain death.

Slowing to a halt, the burning wreck did its work halting the Reds' monstrous advance. Already, the rest of the column no longer had any leg room to move, and it seemed like the rear elements had begun to reverse back to their bank. But just as the tank assault was looking to peter out, the front tanks continued to drive forth. As the deafening scraping of metal began to ring in the air, they appeared adamant at pushing the wrecks over the bridge and moving on, the irate Russian hailing demanding an advance at all odds.

"They're persistent," he grumbled, looking out on the bridge for a moment. They were already running out of shots, and Cecille had yet to blow the bridge.

Makoto's eyes snapped to the Major as he coldly regarded him. It would seem that those of this time have little respect for his prowess, something he'd take to his advantage. He strode over to the nearest AT position and after a moment of searching, handed an Ofuda to the gunner. "Adhere this to your next shell, and fire at our end of the bridge. The middle of the opening is preferable." He said, still struggling with the language.

He turned to the major. "We call this kind of seal a 'fog gate'. It allows one way passage of entities. This particular one is more transparent, and has been modified to be attached to the explosives you use. It is not wide enough to completely block off the bridge, but it will stop the tanks for now. That is, if that is acceptable for my antiquated methods. It should allow for ten minutes of area denial."

With that, he began his trek to the farm, not waiting for a reply from the major.

Out of all the things that had trouble adapting, his magic did not. In fact, it was better than ever, at least as soon as he learned the translations of words in Japanese. This new technology allowed for more versatility in combat. A skilled warrior-mage could easily hold off forces many times his own, provided the enemy had no counter-mages. And as much as he hated to admit it, the firearms of this time were actually decent weapons. Gone were the days of reloading after every shot. Killing people had never been more efficient! He himself had settled for a pair of Walther PPKs. Although he preferred the uniqueness of revolver-type pistols, the lack of both available weapons and ammunition for those weapons forced necessity rather than want. And he admitted, the pistols were effective. Small, concealable, reliable. He had to admit, German engineering was good. Now if only their command was as competent...

But other problems were already beginning to show. Handing the gunner a talisman, Makoto had the guts not just to supercede his orders, but to gloat in his face the power of his magic. Wasting no time to leave, the grim-faced major could not even bark back, though the desperation of the situation left little time for berating. He would have to save it for later.

Tapping at the talisman, he ordered the gunner, "do not fire that thing over unless the tanks get off on our side. Keep knocking out them out until they can't move the tonnage. Use that barrier before then and I'l make sure you get to suffer with him later, if we survive."

He was having nothing of the glory hog's antics. Whether he genuinely considered it a bad idea, or mad at his insubordination was still left unexplained. True, he was guilty of many things, but incompetence was not one of them. Far from it, in fact.

Barn

The barn was but a smouldering wreck, the mortar barrage reducing much of the area to nothing. Kneeling at the ground coated in blood, the frantic medic appeared traumatised, unable to get a grip as she tried to keep the life from bleeding from the survivors. Few, so far, appeared to be found, and those lucky to even have half a body were now lying next to the remaining truck available. Heinrich's second in command, Idunn was still scouring for more, but amidst the bits and pieces buried in the mud, it appeared that few else would make it out, and time was running short.

"Makoto, where have you been," she blurted, her soft-spoken tone a far cry from Heinrich's terse orders, "did Heinrich send you here? The mortar barrage hit the triage. I don't know if there's still anyone else left..."

From the looks of it, there may not be anyone else left in one piece...

[Sonitusia]

But other problems were already beginning to show. Handing the gunner a talisman, Makoto had the guts not just to supercede his orders, but to gloat in his face the power of his magic. Wasting no time to leave, the grim-faced colonel could not even bark back, though the desperation of the situation left little time for berating. He would have to save it for later.

Tapping at the talisman, he ordered the gunner, "do not fire that thing over unless the tanks get off on our side. Keep knocking out them out until they can't move the tonnage. Use that barrier before then and I'l make sure you get to suffer with him later, if we survive."

"Sissignore!" she replied without looking over, slamming another round into the gun as she kept the talisman afloat with a small amount of magic. Taking a peak over the gun shield, she watched as the tanks relentlessly pushed forward, trying to make a break by moving the wreck of the first vehicle forwards by sheer force. She replied by lobbing the high explosive anti-tank shell, with its lower muzzle velocity, over the front T-34 and hitting the fuel tank of the one behind. It erupted in a fiery explosion, and she loaded another Panzergranate 38 HL/B inside.

I have a few more APCBC, a couple APCR, and the most is HEAT. Which is practically untouched because the Germans are too stupid to use them correctly.

Sighing, she looked for another chance to fire a shot, eyeing the talisman near her. Not unless they get across...

[Cybraxia]

Barn

The barn was but a smouldering wreck, the mortar barrage reducing much of the area to nothing. Kneeling at the ground coated in blood, the frantic medic appeared traumatised, unable to get a grip as she tried to keep the life from bleeding from the survivors. Few, so far, appeared to be found, and those lucky to even have half a body were now lying next to the remaining truck available. Heinrich's second in command, Idunn was still scouring for more, but amidst the bits and pieces buried in the mud, it appeared that few else would make it out, and time was running short.

"Makoto, where have you been," she blurted, her soft-spoken tone a far cry from Heinrich's terse orders, "did Heinrich send you here? The mortar barrage hit the triage. I don't know if there's still anyone else left..."

From the looks of it, there may not be anyone else left in one piece...

Heinrich, that was the Major's name, wasn't it? He had never taken the time to learn it. "Yes. I have been sent to insure protection. But I can see that my services could be of use in other ways." He scoured his bag for more Ofuda seals. He pulled a few out and handed them to the woman. "These will seal the wearer's body for as long as they are attached. It should stop bleeding, enough for them to have a chance, however small that might be."

He looked around at the dead and dying. "Between you and me, that Major is a fool. He does not use advantages that he has available. I fear that we may be forced to make a hasty retreat. From what I hear of these 'reds', they will kill all that they believe is an enemy, even if that will not, or cannot fight back. If they do come, and you cannot bring the wounded with you, you may have to kill them. It would be much less painful than what these reds would do if they were to get their hands on them."

[Wolfenium]

But other problems were already beginning to show. Handing the gunner a talisman, Makoto had the guts not just to supercede his orders, but to gloat in his face the power of his magic. Wasting no time to leave, the grim-faced major could not even bark back, though the desperation of the situation left little time for berating. He would have to save it for later.

Tapping at the talisman, he ordered the gunner, "do not fire that thing over unless the tanks get off on our side. Keep knocking out them out until they can't move the tonnage. Use that barrier before then and I'l make sure you get to suffer with him later, if we survive."

"Sissignore!" she replied without looking over, slamming another round into the gun as she kept the talisman afloat with a small amount of magic. Taking a peak over the gun shield, she watched as the tanks relentlessly pushed forward, trying to make a break by moving the wreck of the first vehicle forwards by sheer force. She replied by lobbing the high explosive anti-tank shell, with its lower muzzle velocity, over the front T-34 and hitting the fuel tank of the one behind. It erupted in a fiery explosion, and she loaded another Panzergranate 38 HL/B inside.

I have a few more APCBC, a couple APCR, and the most is HEAT. Which is practically untouched because the Germans are too stupid to use them correctly.

Sighing, she looked for another chance to fire a shot, eyeing the talisman near her. Not unless they get across...

Slowly, but surely, the wrecks blocking the path of the tanks began to grow in number, petering the offensive as the tank column bogs down over the bridge. For the moment, the ofuda did not seem necessary, though valuable enough to hold on to in case the enemy made another push. As the remainder of the tanks began reversing, relief appeared within sight. Not even the angry demands of their commander in the radio could convince them to push through, though feeding to the growing confusion.

"Ehm..." muttered the nervous Cecille, reaching the base of the bridge as she traced the wires. Checking the explosives stuffed inside, a pair of red eye glistened in the shadow of the crack, causing her to scream as the intruders - a pair of muddy rats - rushed out. Carefully dislodging the explosives, she eventually found the cause of the explosives' inertia. Chewed and frayed, the wires connected to the fuses had been damaged by the teething pests, likely the case for the entire array as a whole.

"Ah shit," she grumbled, as her guard nervously overlooked the opposite bank, "I need time to fix all the fuses."

Barn

The barn was but a smouldering wreck, the mortar barrage reducing much of the area to nothing. Kneeling at the ground coated in blood, the frantic medic appeared traumatised, unable to get a grip as she tried to keep the life from bleeding from the survivors. Few, so far, appeared to be found, and those lucky to even have half a body were now lying next to the remaining truck available. Heinrich's second in command, Idunn was still scouring for more, but amidst the bits and pieces buried in the mud, it appeared that few else would make it out, and time was running short.

"Makoto, where have you been," she blurted, her soft-spoken tone a far cry from Heinrich's terse orders, "did Heinrich send you here? The mortar barrage hit the triage. I don't know if there's still anyone else left..."

From the looks of it, there may not be anyone else left in one piece...

Heinrich, that was the Major's name, wasn't it? He had never taken the time to learn it. "Yes. I have been sent to insure protection. But I can see that my services could be of use in other ways." He scoured his bag for more Ofuda seals. He pulled a few out and handed them to the woman. "These will seal the wearer's body for as long as they are attached. It should stop bleeding, enough for them to have a chance, however small that might be."

He looked around at the dead and dying. "Between you and me, that Major is a fool. He does not use advantages that he has available. I fear that we may be forced to make a hasty retreat. From what I hear of these 'reds', they will kill all that they believe is an enemy, even if that will not, or cannot fight back. If they do come, and you cannot bring the wounded with you, you may have to kill them. It would be much less painful than what these reds would do if they were to get their hands on them."

Bowing her head a bit, Idunn could tell Makoto was frustrated. Despite his stoic tone, his inaction by Heinrich's orders appeared to have caused him unease. She could sense a deepening anger within, an eagerness to plunge his sword into battle straight away, and a nagging frustration at being held back, much less dismissed despite his talents. Giving a small earnest smile, she gave her brief insight to him.

"I understand you want to contribute, Ishikawa-dono" she spoke, her Japanese unusually fluent for a European, "and you feel at times that Sir isn't in the right mind not to send you out where you can fight at your best. But please understand; he is not a fool. Have you heard of the Chinese Spring and Autumn Period strategist, Sun Tzu? His first line in the Art of War is that 'all warfare is based on deception'. Heinrich restricts our use of magic not because he doesn't believe it to be of use, but because it is useful to us. The more we show our advantages, the more countermeasures our enemies will create to stop us. He doesn't want to expose our abilities too early in case the Soviet esper corp figure out our weaknesses. Instead, he wants them to show their hand first, and have us deal with them accordingly. We are already fighting at a disadvantage. He could not afford to throw out his best tricks just yet."

"Surely, you of all people do not want to resort to mercy killing if we're overrun, do you," she added with a grim undertone, "he's trying to figure out a way for all of us to make it out. Be patient with him. He's still trying his best."

Perhaps, no one but her could understand what goes through his mind. Always right beside the Major, Idunn was his shadow and confidant, a foil for his sour disposition and temper. Despite her open, gentle persona, even less was known about her compared to Heinrich himself. All that Geier knew was that she was special to him. Just how special was subject to both praise and ridicule.

"Thank you for the charms, by the way," she replied, "Schwalbe would need this desperately. Maybe you should be a medic too, just kidding."

[Cybraxia]

Heinrich, that was the Major's name, wasn't it? He had never taken the time to learn it. "Yes. I have been sent to insure protection. But I can see that my services could be of use in other ways." He scoured his bag for more Ofuda seals. He pulled a few out and handed them to the woman. "These will seal the wearer's body for as long as they are attached. It should stop bleeding, enough for them to have a chance, however small that might be."

He looked around at the dead and dying. "Between you and me, that Major is a fool. He does not use advantages that he has available. I fear that we may be forced to make a hasty retreat. From what I hear of these 'reds', they will kill all that they believe is an enemy, even if that will not, or cannot fight back. If they do come, and you cannot bring the wounded with you, you may have to kill them. It would be much less painful than what these reds would do if they were to get their hands on them."

Bowing her head a bit, Idunn could tell Makoto was frustrated. Despite his stoic tone, his inaction by Heinrich's orders appeared to have caused him unease. She could sense a deepening anger within, an eagerness to plunge his sword into battle straight away, and a nagging frustration at being held back, much less dismissed despite his talents. Giving a small earnest smile, she gave her brief insight to him.

"I understand you want to contribute, Ishikawa-dono" she spoke, her Japanese unusually fluent for a European, "and you feel at times that Sir isn't in the right mind not to send you out where you can fight at your best. But please understand; he is not a fool. Have you heard of the Chinese Spring and Autumn Period strategist, Sun Tzu? His first line in the Art of War is that 'all warfare is based on deception'. Heinrich restricts our use of magic not because he doesn't believe it to be of use, but because it is useful to us. The more we show our advantages, the more countermeasures our enemies will create to stop us. He doesn't want to expose our abilities too early in case the Soviet esper corp figure out our weaknesses. Instead, he wants them to show their hand first, and have us deal with them accordingly. We are already fighting at a disadvantage. He could not afford to throw out his best tricks just yet."

"Surely, you of all people do not want to resort to mercy killing if we're overrun, do you," she added with a grim undertone, "he's trying to figure out a way for all of us to make it out. Be patient with him. He's still trying his best."

Perhaps, no one but her could understand what goes through his mind. Always right beside the Major, Idunn was his shadow and confidant, a foil for his sour disposition and temper. Despite her open, gentle persona, even less was known about her compared to Heinrich himself. All that Geier knew was that she was special to him. Just how special was subject to both praise and ridicule.

"Thank you for the charms, by the way," she replied, "Schwalbe would need this desperately. Maybe you should be a medic too, just kidding."

Ishikawa reacted visibly at Idunn's fluency in his language. But after a moment, he returned to his brooding self. "You mistake my intentions. I do not wish to fight, I wish to end the fight. The longer this war goes on, the more innocent blood is spilled." He sighed. "I understand that to win you must deceive, but deception is not the only useful stratagem that we have. These reds do not care for deception. They merely muscle through whatever we have, even if they must trample their own dead to do it. There is no honor in this fighting. But, I understand what you say. In case they do have brains behind that brawn, we must be ready."

He looked to the wounded in the barn. "I do not wish to kill them, but it would be far more painless then what the reds would do, I fear. There is a saying: Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst. If your faith in the Major is not misplaced, then we should have nothing to fear. But still, be prepared for what lies ahead. If they do break through our lines, we will attempt to stall them for as long as we can."

[Wolfenium]

-snip-

Bowing her head, the thought of killing her own men left a sour taste in her mouth. She was not averse to seeing Makoto's logic to the matter, but doing so knowing they have no chance of survival as a result, and having to explain to their families why was an even greater burden. Stepping back as she prepared to deliver the charms, she took a solemn bow of thanks. Regardless of the prospects, she could only hope the worst did not transpire.

"I hope so too," the aide mused, "mercy killing isn't justifiable no matter how I look at it..."

---

Binding a fresh pair of fuses as she clung on to the beam supports, Cecille was covered in grime, sweat and who-knows-what as the rumbling of the tanks shuddered overhead. There was no time left, and she feared the appearance of espers capable of dealing with her. With her sister still gone from overwatch, she felt even tenser than ever. Of the two sisters, Astrid would have done better care to keep the explosives live. She felt guilty for letting them degrade on her watch.

But as she began to climb towards the final posts, a frightening shudder began to echo out as the Slavic invaders began chanting. They were throwing in the human waves now. If the tanks could not get across the smoldering wrecks of their own, then the Soviets were hoping the infantry would.

"Ah shit," blurted the demo-girl, climbing through the bridge like a jungle jim as she raced to reset the last few charges.

---

Charging forward through the cleared bridge, a sea of green and red were rushing out of the forests to meet the battered defenders. A few, carrying small boats, most rickety and likely requisitioned from local villages, were pushing for the banks in earnest. The assault was predictable, and a well entrenched enemy would have easily laid waste to their numbers. Problem was, Heinrich had little men nor machine gun positions left, and he was still waiting on Cecille.

"Ah shit," he grumbled, calling on Luisa and Arno's crew, "I want an MG overlooking the bridge and the bank. Keep them off the demo crew and keep them off the bank. Luisa, get the Jap's barrier ready. And watch for friendly fire. Hope that bugger knows how to stay clear of friendlies."

Rushing for the courtyard of the farm, he spotted Laila and Idunn patching up and loading the few survivors into their M3 Half-track, one of the many wonders of American automobile manufacturing brought over as Lend Lease aid to the Soviets. A large Baltenkreuz was crudely painted over the original red star, with what little paint they could obtain. Moving over to the open back, the hapless commander tightened his gloves as suddenly grabbed the startled medic, grumbling, "come here. I need a barrier."

Their finest hour was coming. Victory or death awaits.

[Sonitusia]

"...Luisa, get the Jap's barrier ready. And watch for friendly fire. Hope that bugger knows how to stay clear of friendlies."

"Porco dio," Luisa hissed, taking the talisman and sticking it neatly onto her last APCR round, which coincidentally was her last piece of ammunition. A quick chant under her breath pushed the talisman further against the shell's tip so that aerodynamics wouldn't be ruined, and she took her aim. The Reds were less than a hundred meters away, and it didn't help that her position didn't allow for better gun depression.

Obviously there would be those dreaded espers, which made Luisa even more ticked off. Trusting her comrades to take out the enemy infantry, she fired her round near the column of tanks still trying to grind through, and the resulting collision with the bridge created a rather large dust cloud which promptly got sliced in half as a transparent barrier between both sides was erected. The armored specter that haunted the Germans was completely halted. For now, at least.

Not wanting the gun to be captured by enemy forces, Luisa quickly shredded the gun down into scrap, a majority collecting into her backpack as resources for improvised weaponry later on. She quickly retreated as several shots from bolt-action rifles landed around her, beginning to run towards Arno's position, but then suddenly hitting the ground as an idea came to mind. That Nihongo said it's one way, right?

There was a T-34 still on the German's side of the barrier. Track destroyed and innards charred, but the turret stayed intact. Well he never said to retreat.

Crawling several meters as carefully as possible, she stood up and quickly ran towards the tank. The barrier in front of her line of sight, and she could see the smoke of diesel trying to burn through the engines of the armored vehicles that still lived. And here she was, running towards the one tank that wouldn't be operable anytime soon. Too hell with that thought, I have repairs to conduct. Mid-sprint, she stuffed a hand into her bag, and pointed another towards the T-34. Taking a deep breath, she quickly exclaimed, "Restituo, Metallum, Vehicullum!"

The tank basked in a glow that would probably alert anyone on the bridge, but there weren't any Soviets that could do anything about it. Luisa skidded and almost tripped over herself as she reached the Red's ex-vehicle, and she quickly tossed the metal into the air, which was then followed by a flurry of more scrap metal from the PaK 40. It all dove into the driver's hatch, and quickly patched up the machinery inside as Luisa tossed the dead driver out and taking his place. Without any second thoughts, she oriented herself with the controls, and held onto the gears as she waited for all the metal to complete their tasks, the tank still glowing. Even if it was only a soft hue of grey, it was like a beacon in the battle that was underway, and several soldiers still on the bank fired at the tank, the 7.62mm rounds bouncing off harmlessly, but still enough to bother the technomage as she concentrated on the metal that she was controlling, tapping her foot on the hull floor impatiently, needing it to be complete before the barrier fell.

This is a really stupid idea. It was when the T-34s behind the barrier started trying to fire as well, and it seemed that the magic was stressing from all the strength it had to hold back. Blessing whatever deity the Nihongese mage believed in jokingly, the lack of movement from metal notified Luisa that her task was complete, and she reached back with hand outstretched, charging up the engine with a little bit of magic force before she pressed the ignition. It was loud, it was annoying, and she hated every second of being fired at while trying to get the field fixed tank up to speed. Wincing as it whined to life, as soon as she felt that it was enough, she slammed the ignition. After a few seconds of more dreaded whining, the sputtering of the engine came to life, and she hit the gas.

The T-34 rolled forwards, the Italian skillfully driving the tank away from the barrier, ignoring everything fired at her by the Soviets simply couldn't destroy their own vehicle. The glow from before had long disappeared, and she slipped further away from the bridge.

[Minroz]

Charging forward through the cleared bridge, a sea of green and red were rushing out of the forests to meet the battered defenders. A few, carrying small boats, most rickety and likely requisitioned from local villages, were pushing for the banks in earnest. The assault was predictable, and a well entrenched enemy would have easily laid waste to their numbers. Problem was, Heinrich had little men nor machine gun positions left, and he was still waiting on Cecille.

"Ah shit," he grumbled, calling on Luisa and Arno's crew, "I want an MG overlooking the bridge and the bank. Keep them off the demo crew and keep them off the bank. Luisa, get the Jap's barrier ready. And watch for friendly fire. Hope that bugger knows how to stay clear of friendlies."

Rushing for the courtyard of the farm, he spotted Laila and Idunn patching up and loading the few survivors into their M3 Half-track, one of the many wonders of American automobile manufacturing brought over as Lend Lease aid to the Soviets. A large Baltenkreuz was crudely painted over the original red star, with what little paint they could obtain. Moving over to Makoto, he finally ordered, "human waves, on boats and over the bridge. I'll deal with the medics. Go crazy."

Their finest hour was coming. Victory or death awaits.

“Shiesse!” Aron cursed at the infamous human waves of the Soviet Red Army. He remembered in his memory about the hordes of screaming Russian conscripts, charging forward with their sheer disregard to their attrition. While Aron survived the enemy human waves before, this doesn’t he had it easy. Readying his Kar98K, he gestured his men to do the same. So they did. Despite their lack of numbers, Aron’s men are among the finest soldiers the Wehrmacht could ever offer that’ll make the fatherland proud, tempered by flames of past battles. In other words, their fighting skills make up for their short numbers.

“Jawohl, mein Kommandant!” The blonde replied in acknowledgment to his superior. “Abt (Kasimir), Baum (Albert)! You two head over to the bridge and the bank. Abt, take position with your machine gun over the bridge and the banks. While Baum will help you with the loading and covering fire. I need you to help cover the demo crew from the Ivans off their backs. Schnell! (Go!)”

“Jawohl!” The two mentioned soldiers responded. They did as Aron ordered, rushing towards the location which overlooked the bridge and the bank. Kasimir and Albert prepared into defensive position, safe enough from enemy fire.

“Oh Almighty father in heaven, give us your strength to fight from these faithless vermins.” Aron made a quick prayer in his mind before aiming his Kar98K at the approaching Soviets who’re rowing themselves on their boats. He and his men are planning to fire their leads at the enemy once they’ve landed on the banks.

---

"Porco dio," Luisa hissed, taking the talisman and sticking it neatly onto her last APCR round, which coincidentally was her last piece of ammunition. A quick chant under her breath pushed the talisman further against the shell's tip so that aerodynamics wouldn't be ruined, and she took her aim. The Reds were less than a hundred meters away, and it didn't help that her position didn't allow for better gun depression.

Obviously there would be those dreaded espers, which made Luisa even more ticked off. Trusting her comrades to take out the enemy infantry, she fired her round near the column of tanks still trying to grind through, and the resulting collision with the bridge created a rather large dust cloud which promptly got sliced in half as a transparent barrier between both sides was erected. The armored specter that haunted the Germans was completely halted. For now, at least.

Not wanting the gun to be captured by enemy forces, Luisa quickly shredded the gun down into scrap, a majority collecting into her backpack as resources for improvised weaponry later on. She quickly retreated as several shots from bolt-action rifles landed around her, beginning to run towards Arno's position, but then suddenly hitting the ground as an idea came to mind. That Nihongo said it's one way, right?

There was a T-34 still on the German's side of the barrier. Track destroyed and innards charred, but the turret stayed intact. Well he never said to retreat.

Crawling several meters as carefully as possible, she stood up and quickly ran towards the tank. The barrier in front of her line of sight, and she could see the smoke of diesel trying to burn through the engines of the armored vehicles that still lived. And here she was, running towards the one tank that wouldn't be operable anytime soon. Too hell with that thought, I have repairs to conduct. Mid-sprint, she stuffed a hand into her bag, and pointed another towards the T-34. Taking a deep breath, she quickly exclaimed, "Restituo, Metallum, Vehicullum!"

The tank basked in a glow that would probably alert anyone on the bridge, but there weren't any Soviets that could do anything about it. Luisa skidded and almost tripped over herself as she reached the Red's ex-vehicle, and she quickly tossed the metal into the air, which was then followed by a flurry of more scrap metal from the PaK 40. It all dove into the driver's hatch, and quickly patched up the machinery inside as Luisa tossed the dead driver out and taking his place. Without any second thoughts, she oriented herself with the controls, and held onto the gears as she waited for all the metal to complete their tasks, the tank still glowing. Even if it was only a soft hue of grey, it was like a beacon in the battle that was underway, and several soldiers still on the bank fired at the tank, the 7.62mm rounds bouncing off harmlessly, but still enough to bother the technomage as she concentrated on the metal that she was controlling, tapping her foot on the hull floor impatiently, needing it to be complete before the barrier fell.

This is a really stupid idea. It was when the T-34s behind the barrier started trying to fire as well, and it seemed that the magic was stressing from all the strength it had to hold back. Blessing whatever deity the Nihongese mage believed in jokingly, the lack of movement from metal notified Luisa that her task was complete, and she reached back with hand outstretched, charging up the engine with a little bit of magic force before she pressed the ignition. It was loud, it was annoying, and she hated every second of being fired at while trying to get the field fixed tank up to speed. Wincing as it whined to life, as soon as she felt that it was enough, she slammed the ignition. After a few seconds of more dreaded whining, the sputtering of the engine came to life, and she hit the gas.

The T-34 rolled forwards, the Italian skillfully driving the tank away from the barrier, ignoring everything fired at her by the Soviets simply couldn't destroy their own vehicle. The glow from before had long disappeared, and she slipped further away from the bridge.

Suddenly, someone had hopped up on Luisa’s T-34 tank. It was Helmut Schmidt, Aron’s redhead adjutant. Earlier he sent Reier and Bohn to rendezvous back with Aron himself before rushing to get onto the tank.

“Entschuldigen Sie (excuse me), Ma'am.” Helmut grunts as he got inside, sitting onto the gunner seat. “Can I have ride inside this tincan with you?”

Despite his stern demeanour, he sounded like he’s cracking a sarcastic joke. After getting himself oriented with the T-34’s gun controls quickly, Helmut aimed the tank turret towards where the Soviet soldiers are.

“Feuer!” He yelled, pulling the trigger.

[Wolfenium]

-snip-

It was hellfire from here on out, as the desperate defenders barraged the sea of red with what little lead they had. Pinned behind the tank carcasses as the 'buzzsaw' rattled the charred yet sturdy armour, few could get past over the wrecks into the open back beyond. Those that did were chopped by the hail of lead, splattering the bridge even more in blood. But even that hurdle was little compared to the invisible wall now propping up. The hapless conscripts who had leapt past at the inopportune moment now stacked the barrier before them, as Luisa hastily tried to get one of the vehicles back online.

Those in the rowboats, confined in easy to kill boxes, faired little better, ducking under enemy fire as they get shot up by the riflemen. Those that fell to the bullets, even if alive, were sometimes forcibly ejected into the murky depths by the desperate crew, as if trying to lighten the weight to move faster. But the bank seemed little closer by the minute, and their closing distance was making it easier for the Germans to snipe.

But the Germans' task were not as easy either, as the T-34s pounded their position with utmost anger. Turned into impromptu artillery pieces, what little cover they had left were now being systematically levelled. Raw numbers alone made trying to kill a serious chore and with every shot taking a Red down, many more were still waiting for their moment. As the boats inched towards shore, it seemed like they barely cleared any of the boats. The tide appeared relentless no matter how much Geier tried to hold, and they were reaching shore...

”Uro, flamma immortalis."

In a sudden burst of fire, one of the boats lit ablaze in a vibrant blue flame as its occupants' screams echoed in the noisy sky. Bailing out in panic, the hapless conscripts tried to douse the flames in the murky Dnieper to no avail, burning alive as what few survivors raced on the shore only to succumb to ashes. With each shot, the boats were quickly taken out by the masked Japanese, though the waiting NKVD machine gunners behind them forestalled any real thought of retreat. The desperation, even with death waiting, would have marvelled the fanatics of the Far East. Here, they were target practice for Heinrich, braving the hail of bullets before him as Laila held up the barrier spell from behind.

"Why do I have to do things myself," he griped, drawing another cigarette from his pack, "better wrap this up before the espers arrive."

Now the Reds know who they were up against. As radio chatter began screaming for the vaunted NKVD to send help - anti-magic espers, essentially - the rest were now racing to keep the field clear for Cecilla, hastily priming the charges for the final blow.

-snip-

-snip-

Firing a round into the mass of soldiers spilling over the bridge, the field soon splattered in a hail of mud, heat and shrapnel. Any unfortunate enough to be within the blast were reduced ot nothing, their body parts painting the newly-formed crater. Caught in the open, the hapless survivors tried to rush for cover as the merciless machine gun shot them to pieces. There was no way out for the but forward, however, and their numbers were still leaking faster than they could stem.

"Push," screamed an angry commandant taking cover behind one of the wrecked tanks as noise reigned from the tanks on the far bank firing at their zombified counterpart, "push, cowards, push! They're just a handful of men! Do you want the espers to deal with you later-"

*BOOM*

Finally, in a sickening shudder of concrete and metal, the hapless soldiers could feel the ashpalt below then began to sink and slide, an ailing groan of warping metal as the damaged beams of the bridge began to cave in to its failing strength. As realization began to seep in, the horrified conscripts finally began to run back, the bridge falling apart span by span as it crumbled at an accelerating rate. Many failed to make the run to the end as they were thrown into the river, while others tried diving in and swimming ot save themselves. A crazed few, already near the end of the bridge facing the Gerams tried again to vault over on solid ground. None of these options guaranteed survival, and the final blow would claim many lives for the river, though ultimately never enough for the Germans to hold the bank for good.

Gripping the detonator as she doused herself in mud from a slide in, the panting demo girl could see her handiwork in action, the screams of the Reds drowning what gunfire remained. Watching by her side, the bespectacled soldier could only breathe a sigh of relief as he saw the end of combat for the day. On hindsight, it was probably too early for it. They still had to pull back to friwndly positions, wherever they are.

"About damn time," grumbled the agitated major, tossing the exhausted cigarette bud on the floor as he stepped it into the mud, "next time you scare me like that, I'll strap you to the TNT to keep watch 24/7. Everyone pack up and pull out. Anything that can't be carried or loaded, destroy it. Everyone still breathing, get on the tank or my jeep. The halftrack's for wounded and med staff only. Fiat, check the fuel. Let's hope it can take the drive back to Vyazma. We got five minutes to split before the espers come."

It was finally over, at least for now. With the dead strewn throughout the area, there was no time for burials. What comrades they had to leave to the Soviets to mutilate would have to make way for the survivors in the vehicles. And what ammo and weapons could not be taken had to be destroyed to keep them off Soviet hands. It was the grim reality that confronted Geier and many others throughout the Eastern Front. An unforgiving war of attrition, and a bleak dash for safety ahead.

[Sonitusia]

Wiping some grease off of her brow, the T-34 came slowed down so that Luisa could do some checks, quickly calculating the fuel that the Soviet engine would consume before she had to use magic to push the vehicle forwards. Nodding towards the man in the turret, she began the run down. Tapping the fuel gauge a few times, she furrowed her brow in annoyance. Things weren't looking too good.

"Well, the fire didn't burn it all, strong thing, this V-2 engine," she reported, sticking her head out of the hatch as the tank came to almost a complete stop, "But it did eat a lot. If we don't take any detours, we can probably get there at cruising speed. Otherwise, we'll either have to leave this thing behind or I push it with magic. Most of the rounds we have left are armor piercing, so we'll have to rely on the machine gun for anything infantry."

[Minroz]

With the Russians stalled by the destruction of the bridge and together with the efforts of Geier defenders, it turns out as a breather for Arno’s men who had spent their ounces of energy fighting the reds to keep themselves and their comrades alive. But none of them were foolish enough that the battle is over. They knew they have more battles ahead of them; such is life in the Eastern Front. Captain Arno Groebbel wasted no time replying to his superior officer.

“Jawohl Herr Major, it shall be done.” He spoke with brisk professionalism. The blonde man got up and jogged over to meet up with the rest of the Geier.

By the time his men had rendezvous together, Arno quickly instructed them to help out with packing or assisting the wounded survivors to the halftrack. At the same time, they have to destroy what they can’t carry. Regarding their dead comrades, they’re personally ambivalent of leaving them behind without graves. As much as they wish to bury the dead, out of camaraderie respect, they know they can’t bring them along. Arno and his men have their orders and responsibilities to fulfill.

Wiping some grease off of her brow, the T-34 came slowed down so that Luisa could do some checks, quickly calculating the fuel that the Soviet engine would consume before she had to use magic to push the vehicle forwards. Nodding towards the man in the turret, she began the run down. Tapping the fuel gauge a few times, she furrowed her brow in annoyance. Things weren't looking too good.

"Well, the fire didn't burn it all, strong thing, this V-2 engine," she reported, sticking her head out of the hatch as the tank came to almost a complete stop, "But it did eat a lot. If we don't take any detours, we can probably get there at cruising speed. Otherwise, we'll either have to leave this thing behind or I push it with magic. Most of the rounds we have left are armor piercing, so we'll have to rely on the machine gun for anything infantry."

Helmut popped his head out of the cupola, looking grouchy. He didn’t like the odds as much as the rest in Geier.

“This means we had to make do with this tincan until it burns out. Kaput. It will be nice if we don’t encounter any more reds on our way.” He griped.

[Wolfenium]

Wiping some grease off of her brow, the T-34 came slowed down so that Luisa could do some checks, quickly calculating the fuel that the Soviet engine would consume before she had to use magic to push the vehicle forwards. Nodding towards the man in the turret, she began the run down. Tapping the fuel gauge a few times, she furrowed her brow in annoyance. Things weren't looking too good.

"Well, the fire didn't burn it all, strong thing, this V-2 engine," she reported, sticking her head out of the hatch as the tank came to almost a complete stop, "But it did eat a lot. If we don't take any detours, we can probably get there at cruising speed. Otherwise, we'll either have to leave this thing behind or I push it with magic. Most of the rounds we have left are armor piercing, so we'll have to rely on the machine gun for anything infantry."

Biting his lip a bit, Heinrich clearly did not enjoy hearing this. It was hard for him to obtain a tank as it were, but logistics had, more times than he could remember, forced him to dispose of his weapons. Peering at the now demolished bridge, he lamented the loss of the disabled tanks to the Dneiper. But given the desperation caused by Cecilla's neglect, he had to prioritise.

"Hold on to it as far as we can," he stated, "but we're not taking the road. Too dangerous at this point without any intel on the other fronts. Who knows. Maybe we'll run into a fuel dump."

With the Russians stalled by the destruction of the bridge and together with the efforts of Geier defenders, it turns out as a breather for Arno’s men who had spent their ounces of energy fighting the reds to keep themselves and their comrades alive. But none of them were foolish enough that the battle is over. They knew they have more battles ahead of them; such is life in the Eastern Front. Captain Arno Groebbel wasted no time replying to his superior officer.

“Jawohl Herr Major, it shall be done.” He spoke with brisk professionalism. The blonde man got up and jogged over to meet up with the rest of the Geier.

By the time his men had rendezvous together, Arno quickly instructed them to help out with packing or assisting the wounded survivors to the halftrack. At the same time, they have to destroy what they can’t carry. Regarding their dead comrades, they’re personally ambivalent of leaving them behind without graves. As much as they wish to bury the dead, out of camaraderie respect, they know they can’t bring them along. Arno and his men have their orders and responsibilities to fulfill.

Wiping some grease off of her brow, the T-34 came slowed down so that Luisa could do some checks, quickly calculating the fuel that the Soviet engine would consume before she had to use magic to push the vehicle forwards. Nodding towards the man in the turret, she began the run down. Tapping the fuel gauge a few times, she furrowed her brow in annoyance. Things weren't looking too good.

"Well, the fire didn't burn it all, strong thing, this V-2 engine," she reported, sticking her head out of the hatch as the tank came to almost a complete stop, "But it did eat a lot. If we don't take any detours, we can probably get there at cruising speed. Otherwise, we'll either have to leave this thing behind or I push it with magic. Most of the rounds we have left are armor piercing, so we'll have to rely on the machine gun for anything infantry."

Helmut popped his head out of the cupola, looking grouchy. He didn’t like the odds as much as the rest in Geier.

“This means we had to make do with this tincan until it burns out. Kaput. It will be nice if we don’t encounter any more reds on our way.” He griped.

Glaring at Helmut, something about his words seemed to rub off Heinrich the wrong way. Given how bad things tend to go whenever they seem to be looking up, he had very real reason to frown. The promised reinforcements still had not arrived, and in all likelihood, they had either turned back, taken out or simply not left at all. Whatever the case, returning to friendly lines was now the imperative, and he was sure the Soviets had now pushed it far beyond their side of the Dneiper this whole time.

"Let's move out," he stated, pacing back, "we're going off-road. Idunn, call Astrid to rendezvous. I need more smokes..."

Getting onto the jeep with Idunn on the wheel, the hapless commander could only take whatever fate throws at them. And Fate tended to throw a lot, and they hurt. A lot.

---

Около Нахимовский Смоленской области.
Русский Советская Федеративная Социалистическая Республика, Союз Советских Социалистических Республик.
7 февраля 1942

This afternoon, Soviet spearheads have broken through the fascist positions across the Dneiper river, liberating the towns of Dneprovsky, Pochinki, Nakhimovsky. The main drive towards Vyazma remained unabated despite heavy German resistance. Already, many have routed in the face of the Soviet pincers as the Rzhev salient is close to being sealed. Comrade Stalin demands on the utmost commitment to driving the western savages out of the homeland. Ultimate victory is at hand! Bleed the German dry, comrades!

Sadly, the news broadcast in the late afternoon was, as always, a palatable distillate of the truth, as Soviet conscripts lined in collective mourning the bodies of many comrades from the muddy riverbank of the Dneiper. Some, burnt beyond recognition, could only be identified by their dog tags. Others simply could not be recovered, drowned and buried under the rubble of the sunken bridge on the far back. While the operation was, in all technicality, a success, the failure to capture the bridge in Nakhimovsky despite overwhelmingly favourable odds was exceptionally grating. In no uncertain terms was this a defeat, but the costs were absurdly disproportionate, and against what was soon to be revealed to be very minimal resistance.

Standing on a pool of nervous sweat, the officer in charge of the drive could feel the pressure of his interrogators bearing down on him. Facing not just the dreaded agents of the NKVD, but its even more frightening, pale-haired colleagues, the hapless commander could only stammer excuse after futile excuse as he tried to find a way out. The fact was, however, that he had gravely underestimated the enemy. Despite overwhelming numbers and fire support, he was unable to break the defenders at all. As a result, just when they appeared on the cusp of overrunning the Germans, the bridge was suddenly blown apart, turning the entire stretch into a bed of honour for some fourty to fifty infantry, along with the loss of several tanks. Eyewitnesses even admitted to the theft of one of the knocked out tanks, and the landing meant to support the push across the bridge turned out to be a massacre. In all, he had some hundred dead on his watch in the last day alone. In sharp contrast, barely twenty German dead were accounted for, and an undetermined number, likely few, vaporized in the mortar attack. And that was the grand total, barely a tenth of their size at most.

"240 dead, Major Babayev," the NKVD commander stated coldly, reciting the numbers as he combed the silver fringes in front of his eyes, "70 missing in action and some 500 soldiers wounded. Not to mention the loss of four, maybe five tanks, including a KV-1 heavy tank. I heard they even managed to run off with one too. What a surprise."

"Sir..." he stammered nervously, "I had no idea. The mages... they only came out at the last minute. If I had known, I would have called in the Esper Corps sooner. I had no way of knowing."

"Oh," remarked the commander, lifting his chin at the commentary, "and I suppose it's our fault for not being here to help, am I correct? If I recall correctly, your scouts reported no more than fifty men holding the far bank, without armour, artillery nor air support. I fail to understand how you could not have just flooded the bank with soldiers at the first chance. No mage could have held up such numbers, not even the best of the SS."

"You don't know those people," the lad blurted in panic, his eyes darting at the esper's colleagues as their ruby eyes glared into his shaken soul, "they were disguised as Heer soldiers the whole time! My snipers were silenced each time they tried to take a closer look! I had no way of knowing how to deal with them! The idiots were too scared to confront them! How was I to push them on!?"

However, as he tried to force his complaints further, the hapless Red Army officer caught from the corner of his eyes an approaching esper, a young lad no older than a teen, likely a new cadet indicted into the service, complete with esper training. Unlike his dour-faced superiors, the lad appeared to be waiting, a predatory gaze as if waiting for his commander's word. Frightened, the major pleaded in desperation, "please, give me another chance. I'll get even with that German suka, I swear! This won't happen again. Do you know hard it is for STAVKA to replace all its officers!? You'll be hampering the war effort!"

Such heresy, as it turned out, proved the final straw. Taking his officer cap off as he inspected it, the nonchalant colonel did not appear to have heeded him. No, he seemed even more convinced of his offences than ever before. Looking back up at the man, it was obvious he had made his decision. Tapping the visor of the hat, he said, "don't worry, Major. Let us worry about your replacement. Like you said, this won't happen again."

Then, as if on instinct, the gleeful greenhorn quietly grabbed a steel pipe by the table as he passed along, motioning steadily at the panicked officer as he began to spew pleas for mercy. His shadow hovering over the cowering officer, he hummed a small, jovial tone as he relished the telepathic order. In one swift motion, he swung his arm in an arc, sending the pipe into the victim's skull in a swift, crushing blow. The speed of the hit silently bolstered by his powers, the lad drove the steel bludgeon into the condemned's head another couple of times for good measure, eagerly enjoying the spray of blood and bone over his body.

Grimacing a bit as he looked aside, one of his seniors, a young feminine-looking Captain with long white locks grumbled in agitation, "could you be any more crude, Malachenko. Sir stated simply to kill him, not to dirty his uniform with the fool's innards."

"What's wrong, slut," the foul-mouthed boy mocked back, gesturing his bloodied arms in a I-don't-know pose, "scared of a little brain juice? Aren't you forgetting, that in the great socialist society, all men are but proles to wield their own destiny as a people. Such finicky behaviour is unbecoming of a representative of the people's will. How then can you take the gruelling task of battle if you're frightened of a little blood?"

"It's not the blood that irks me, Dimitry, it's you," the man answered back, shifting his eyes at their superior as he quietly observed the exchange, "such ungainly attitude is nothing short of uncivilized hooliganism. People like you are the reason why capitalists show such disdain toward the working masses. By engaging in such uncouth, vulgar language, you're only proving them right that some men deserve to be above others."

"Pffft," the lad merely scoffed, squatting as he waited on their instructions, "I have nothing to prove. I have no need to prove anything. You, on the other hand, seemed to enjoy playing dandy boy. Must be tough putting up the act of a perfect lady. Must be a lot of mouthwash you use compared to your sister."

Frowning at the hooligan's response, the man seemed tempted to hit back. Dimitry was, to sum up plainly, an ape, the kind of bottomfeeder that disrupts society with his criminal behaviour and vulgar tongue. His liberal usage of Mat only cemented his role as a lowlife clown. Of all the people in the service, the captain could scarcely imagine how this subject could get into the Esper corps.

"Dimitry, Mikhail, that's enough chit-chat," their officer finally intervened, "we have a timetable to keep. We still need to break into Vyazma. Yulia, found anything?"

Looking back over at the remains of the German AT, the group could see a young girl with a braid hard at work, her glowing hand hovering over the disabled AT as she tried to pick up the enemy's aura. True enough, telltale signs of magical activity were strewn all over the battlefield. Most likely, they were saved until the very last moment for good measure. Not an unwise choice, in all honesty. Had the scouts reported magical activity earlier, it was likely the espers would have been sent to dispatch them earlier.

"Plenty, actually," she reported, standing back up from her squat as she felt a tinge of nervousness, particularly at Dimitry's unsightly coat of blood and sinew, "they seemed to be done in desperation. They're not many, though. My senses only picked up at least six of varying strength. For all intents and purposes, this was a largely non-magic unit the assault troops were dealing with. The only issue was that they have brains, and dealing with an enemy that lacked it."

"Powers then," questioned the officer, professional as always as he crossed his arms behind his back.

"One healing-based witch, the rest mages. At least one is an Onmyoudo specialist. Might be a violation of the Soviet-Japanese Neutrality Pact, but we'll never know until we find them."

"Six," Dimitry remarked with sarcastic glee, "how 'shocking'. Makes you wonder why these fucks never tried just bombarding them to hell. They've almost levelled the entire bank as it is. Making the treeline disappear shouldn't be that hard."

"Reckless overconfidence will get you nowhere," the effeminate captain reprimanded him, "this unit was outsmarted. No doubt they were delaying the detonation of the bridge just to lure more fools for the meat grinder. Sir, any reports of enemy reinforcements sent towards our position?"

Stroking his chin, the commander took a bit to recall. Checking back at his reports, he stated, "yes, a detachment from the German 9th Army. Suspected to be a push for the bridge. Whoever was manning the defences here probably knew they were about to rout and ordered the bridge taken out at the last moment rather than wait. A wise move, though a tad late for comfort in my book. Pity the tanks failed to cross when they could. Our pincer is losing time because of this. I believe Captain Ulrikh is in charge of cutting off reinforcements. What's her status?"

"Hold on," the girl informed them, holding her hand to her head as she tried to contact their comrades telepathically, "yes, she's fine, as is her team. Her troops reported heavy enemy casualties outside Maskino, with minimal losses on their side. They won't be pushing us off the east bank any time soon."

"To put it shortly," the captain remarked confident, "whoever held us off here won't be escaping now. It's at least 15 kilometers from here to Maskino by road, and they're not in good condition. What's more, we'll be able to spot them trying to sneak past our checkpoints disguised as Soviets, even if they spout Mat like gopniks. We should be hearing from them quite soon, Colonel Kurakin. It's just a matter of when."

Looking down on the muddled footprints, however, the colonel was not about to raise his glass just yet. Just because they had managed to push beyond the river did not mean they had encircled the pesky defenders. They needed to find the first, preferably using the espers. However, with so many needed for frontline duties against Ahnenerbe, they have no time to hunt for stragglers. The best case, perhaps, would be simply waiting them out until they cave in to starvation, thirst and lack of supplies. The worst case was to respond to every depot they try to raid with brute force, and not even he would dare attempt a raid without considerable strength.

"I hope so too," he simply stated, moving off again as he headed back to his jeep, "if we were dealing with stragglers, perhaps they'll simply surrender without a fight. If they're a unit, however, they could potentially cause damage to our logistics and wreak havoc. Pray that isn't the case."

For once, Kurakin was not absolutely sure he could weed out the stragglers. If a small handful could hold off an enemy with grave numerical and firepower superiority, they could potentially take on espers and rear troops as well. Already, Ahnenerbe has taken out scores of espers and normals along the Eastern Front, consolidating its magical assets into a dangerous fighting force. He hated to imagine how he was going to deal with saboteurs behind their lines. They may be on home ground, but that did not mean the enemy could not just masquerade as them.

The 19th NKVD Esper Division would have to be on watch for this.

---

Straße in Richtung Maskino, Smolensk Oblast,
Russische Sozialistische Föderative Sowjetrepublik, Union der Sozialistischen Sowjetrepubliken
7 February 1942, Dusk

Driving along the road towards Maskino, the battered veterans of Geier had finally gotten off on slight. Unwilling to be bogged down by the relentless snow for too long, the drivers carefully rode through the road, their Soviet markings concealing their true allegiance. For good measure, however, the colonel had other things on stash - Soviet uniforms tailor made in case of a rout. Dressed as a Soviet colonel as with the rest, Heinrich kept his cap down as he tried to get a wink of sleep. The rest were fortunate enough to get uniforms too to disguise themselves. The bad news, there were not many to begin with, and the fact that he still had spares out of some twenty uniforms showed just how much their manpower had fallen.

Seated at the front of the half-track was Astrid, their scout. Hugging her rifle as she tried to get some sleep, she had been awake for quite some time, having endured days of overwatch trying to fend off Soviet snipers trying to recon their position. Her head on Cecille's lap as the nervous sister drove, she was understandably tired from the ordeal. Rarely had she ever rested whenever Cecille was on duty. Often putting herself in Cecille's place, the younger of the two 'twins' - despite their considerable age gap - felt a bit guilty burdening her.

"Hm," Idunn went, slowing down her jeep as the small convoy spotted something illuminating from the darkness, "what's that."

Slowly, but steadily, the shadows soon emerged from the darkness. The drab grey colour scheme gleaming from the light, the frozen shadows of a destroyed tank column laid strewn across the road. Panzer IIIs, Panzer IVs, StuG IIIs, the entire stretch proved to be a graveyard of scrap metal, the bodies of its crew strewn all over the field, decrepit and mangled from a Soviet attack. All over, telltale signs of its destruction feature in their torn armour, from the tears of its armour to the burst compartments of its ignited ammo racks. Most still had the shots of a T-34 gun, but some appeared to have been taken out by smaller, human-sized foes. One StuG III looked like it was torn from end to end like a rope. Others looked like they were seared by a giant blowtorch like sheet metal, the molten holes now solidified like lava. The most telling, however, was the lack of Soviet casualties among the bunch. No lost tanks, barely a few grave markers. Nothing. It was as if the Soviets had utterly routed them in an ambush without as much as a scratch. Stirring from the change of motion, Heinrich quietly tipped his cap up as he looked at the scene. Grimacing a bit, he held his hand up to halt the tank and halftrack in place, getting off the jeep as he yawned over the weary lack of sleep.

"So this is where our reinforcements went," he grumbled, looking over the carnage, "I should have known. Everyone, check for salvage. We can hold up in that lodge nearby until daylight. We should be safe as long as the rest of you shut up and pretend you're mute. Maybe try to pick up some Russian so the sentries don't stump you while you're at it. Oh, and no magic. I don't want to attract espers like fruit flies, you hear?"

This was a discomforting scene. If the espers were able to demolish an entire tank column with ease, what chance did they have?

[Sonitusia]

With the engine already coughing in dehydration, Luisa pulled the T-34 to a stop as she examined the extensive damage done to the German tank column. It was monstrous, using both brute force and magic to create devastation upon the reinforcements which were supposed to arrive. Luisa was glad that their commander had ordered the retreat, otherwise they'd have been waiting for no longer existing forces to save the day. Nonetheless, she hoped the poor blokes gave the Soviets a hard beating before they were annihilated. They deserved the honor if they did. Not seeing any Russian carcasses lessened the possibility, but one could never tell.

After jumping out the hatch, she finally got to take a look at the vehicle she had stolen from the Russians. It was a standard Model 1941, being an overall better machine than the original Model 1940, but the main gun still wasn't suitable for destroying anything heavier than a Panzer IV. Luckily, it could penetrate itself at ranges below a kilometer, that was of course considering they hit their mark. Hoping that Helmut was a good shot, she decided she would probably need to strip one of the vehicles that they encountered with of their gun. But then she remembered that they might come in contact with a patrol and she began to hesitate. She couldn't just put a 75mm KwK in the turret or they'd be extremely suspicious.

She wondered how much metal would be needed as she grabbed her scrapping equipment. She would have preferred magic, but of course that would just attract the ever annoying esper to their camp, and she would have to do things manually. Luisa found a thankfully intact StuK gun from a StuG and got to work, cutting the metal down into small blocks that she could carry one by one back to the T-34. Finding some blankets, she covered the metal by rolling it inside, then placing them onto the T-34 as if they were crew blankets. She was guessing that there'd be an emergency situation where the HEAT rounds the KwK 37 could fire would come in handy, and she even loaded a few of the rounds inside, hidden among the T-34s normal rounds. Satisfied with her work, she continued by slowly adding extra metal to areas she deemed rather thin, bolting them on with whatever tools she had before finally fashioning a 'bullet-proof vest' that looked similar to the ones used by assault engineers, making sure it fit her well. Working up a sweat, she seemed to have completed the process in about four hours due to doing everything while sneaking, making sure not to attract too much attention.

Considering she had driven a pile of shit the entire way along with the extra hard work, she was extremely exhausted by the time she entered the lodge. Barely saying any words, save for, "Cyka blyat," she made it to wherever it was everyone was resting as if she were drunk on vodka, crashing into the space.

[Wolfenium]

The lodge the ragged soldiers chose to camp was just a quaint little log cabin. Though fairly run down and abandoned, the rustic feel added a bit of homeliness to the set. And from the intact furniture and cookery, it appeared its residents had vacated the premise not long ago, though in which direction was uncertain. Taking up office in what appeared to be the study, idunn had already set to work arranging and cleaning the room, her meticulous housekeeping more fitting for a maid than an actual aide-de-camp. The rest, as the officer simply said, would whatever was still available, though the wounded would get priority to the larger bedroom, which was quickly converted to an aid station. Cecille, unfortunately, was set on sentry duty with some of the remaining combat-fit soldiers. Watching the approaches, they would have to fill in for Astrid for the time being, the latter hogging a bedroom all to herself, and unlikely to be evicted without the risk of being pummeled.

For now, nothing seemed to be amiss in the dead of night. They would sorely need the rest, though in all likelihood, they might be seeing the front creeping away with every minute.

[Minroz]

"So this is where our reinforcements went," he grumbled, looking over the carnage, "I should have known. Everyone, check for salvage. We can hold up in that lodge nearby until daylight. We should be safe as long as the rest of you shut up and pretend you're mute. Maybe try to pick up some Russian so the sentries don't stump you while you're at it. Oh, and no magic. I don't want to attract espers like fruit flies, you hear?"

This was a discomforting scene. If the espers were able to demolish an entire tank column with ease, what chance did they have?

Aron and his men had seen the sight and it didn’t make any more comfortable for them. They can take on Soviet conscripts but dealing with espers were entirely different story. They’ve already heard tales about Soviet espers decimating German divisions on their way. Seeing the scene of destroyed tank columns had confirmed their fears. Regardless, they’re soldiers of the Fatherland; they will fight the feared espers when the time comes.

“Jawohl Herr Major.” Aron replied to his commander. He then ordered his men to carry out Heinrich’s instructions. On the other note, luckily for the Geier, the blonde officer is actually fluent in Russian. That and few more languages he knew. It was one of his hobbies before Aron joined in the military.

The lodge the ragged soldiers chose to camp was just a quaint little log cabin. Though fairly run down and abandoned, the rustic feel added a bit of homeliness to the set. And from the intact furniture and cookery, it appeared its residents had vacated the premise not long ago, though in which direction was uncertain. Taking up office in what appeared to be the study, idunn had already set to work arranging and cleaning the room, her meticulous housekeeping more fitting for a maid than an actual aide-de-camp. The rest, as the officer simply said, would whatever was still available, though the wounded would get priority to the larger bedroom, which was quickly converted to an aid station. Cecille, unfortunately, was set on sentry duty with some of the remaining combat-fit soldiers. Watching the approaches, they would have to fill in for Astrid for the time being, the latter hogging a bedroom all to herself, and unlikely to be evicted without the risk of being pummeled.

For now, nothing seemed to be amiss in the dead of night. They would sorely need the rest, though in all likelihood, they might be seeing the front creeping away with every minute.

Eventually Aron’s squad had finished salvaged what they can or bring, it’s time to hit the night until daytime for the rest. They’ve made themselves at home in the cabin. Aron’s men had taken their liberties to take on sentry duties since they’re among the only soldiers in the Geier at the moment to be fit for combat. Later, half of his squad had finished their shifts and busied themselves with their card games to pass time. At the doorway, the blonde captain himself took turns with Helmut who’s already done his sentry shift.

“Good luck, sir.” As the redhead passes by, he gave a brief nod to his superior officer.

“Likewise lieutenant.” Arno returned the nod.

As he made his walk on the way, the German officer began to notice Cecille, alone in her sentry duty. Sighing with the gruff, Arno didn’t think the redhead girl should be alone on her sentry duty, given her innocent character. In his mind, it’s like putting a sheep near the den of wolfs. Making up his mind, he walked over to her.

“Are you alright?” Arno asked her. Despite his intimidating appearance, he’s actually a gentle, kind-hearted man. It’ll come to surprise to everyone who didn’t look beyond his appearance of a strict officer which characterised the wehrmacht. “It’s going to be very cold outside. You should head back inside the cabin, Cecille. I’ll take over from here.”

[Wolfenium]

“Are you alright?” Arno asked her. Despite his intimidating appearance, he’s actually a gentle, kind-hearted man. It’ll come to surprise to everyone who didn’t look beyond his appearance of a strict officer which characterised the wehrmacht. “It’s going to be very cold outside. You should head back inside the cabin, Cecille. I’ll take over from here.”

Lying on a slit trench dug into the freezing dirt, Cecille appeared motionless and tired, lying on her chin with her ushanka down as Arno's words floated above him. It took a couple of calls before the hapless girl started to stir. Half-asleep, she blubbered an incoherent "ok", trying to force herslef out of the trench despite her lack of balance.

Pausing for a moment as if waiting on Arno to get in, the hapless pioneer seemed hesitant to ask. Biting her lip, she blurt, "umm... Sir... Can I... have a minute?... You don't think the Major is... mad at me... is he?..."

Given what happened earlier, it was not hard to see why. Cecille's negligence nearly cost everyone their lives. It was only after some nail-biting defence that they managed to buy her time to blow the bridge. But many had died as a result of that lost time, and it weighed on her a great deal. Even if the others never blamed her, she herself could not help but blame herself. Her sister would have never made that mistake. She was meticulous, almost to the point of paranoia, and she would have stayed up to make sure those fuses were ready to go at the first opportunity. How then, could Cecille bitterly imagine being able to compare to her?

-snip-

"Finally done, I see," a voice quietly spoke to Luisa, greeting her as the tired girl laid around. Bespectacled, and patched up, the lad covering for Cecille back at the river bank seemed fine, or at least in better condition than some. With Laila working non-stop to tend to the wounded, it was little wonder the survivors were able to get back into shape. Sadly, there were limits to Laila's powers as well, greatly exhausting her to breaking point. And there was the issue of grievous wounds that even she could not heal completely. The greater the severity, the less able she was able to stabilize his condition. Yet, many more might have been whittled off if not for her. But Laila needed another medic as assistance, and Idunn, with her own extertise in first aid, had other tasks to attend to as well.

"How many times have we ended up as stragglers already," he mused, "three? Four times since I came here? A bit tired of this kind of existence, to be frank. Still, it's not every day we run into a place like this. There's a shower linked to the local well that you could use. Lieutenant Idunn already checked and decontaminated it. Just don't hog it for too long. Whoever built this place must have been somewhat hardy and good with the hands. I don't think he'll like having Germans infest his house, though."

[Minroz]

Lying on a slit trench dug into the freezing dirt, Cecille appeared motionless and tired, lying on her chin with her ushanka down as Arno's words floated above him. It took a couple of calls before the hapless girl started to stir. Half-asleep, she blubbered an incoherent "ok", trying to force herself out of the trench despite her lack of balance.

Pausing for a moment as if waiting on Arno to get in, the hapless pioneer seemed hesitant to ask. Biting her lip, she blurt, "umm... Sir... Can I... have a minute?... You don't think the Major is... mad at me... is he?..."

Given what happened earlier, it was not hard to see why. Cecille's negligence nearly cost everyone their lives. It was only after some nail-biting defence that they managed to buy her time to blow the bridge. But many had died as a result of that lost time, and it weighed on her a great deal. Even if the others never blamed her, she herself could not help but blame herself. Her sister would have never made that mistake. She was meticulous, almost to the point of paranoia, and she would have stayed up to make sure those fuses were ready to go at the first opportunity. How then, could Cecille bitterly imagine being able to compare to her?

When Cecille almost lost her balance, Arno gingerly hold her up in time. It’s clear to him that the poor girl is tired, very much. Not to mention conflicted. Seeing her in the despondent state told him that, his insightfulness had seen faces like Cecille’s in his time in the military before the Russian campaign. It was the look of remorseful regret, the feeling of unable to do anything enough especially one’s doing so for their comrades.

Hearing the sand blonde-haired girl’s enquiry, Arno didn’t spoke a word in response. It’s as if he’s contemplatively thinking, deep in his own thoughts on the subject. Thinking about it, he felt he’s just like Cecille. Except his remorse lied in the loss of subordinates who died under his command, Arno felt the obligation to keep. Despite accepting realities of the battlefield and inevitable casualties, Arno doesn’t believe it’s acceptable to accept that easily. In his pity, he doesn’t think himself any better. After a minute passes by, Arno gave a reassuring pat on Cecille’s head. Like a father to his child.

“Nein, pioneer. Herr Major is always like that with everyone in the division. He was just getting stressful from all the work he has to do. And he’s trying to keep us all alive. Major is just worried about you.” Arno said like a professional soldier but there’re traces of gentleness lingered in his voice. After some moments of silence, he spoke further. “Was something else bothering you, Cecille?”