Frontlines: Soviet Assault (IC)

[Independent States of Tula]

Frontlines: The Soviet Assault



Welcome, Comrade. Mother Russia needs you to guide her sons through the coming storm. The fascist beast approaches. You must slay her, Socialism must prevail!

OOC |Archive Thread

Current Date: 22 June 1941
1st Campaign: Operation Barbarossa | Episode 1: The German Onslaught

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22 June 1941
1st Campaign: Operation Barbarossa | Episode 1: The German Onslaught

Phase One


(Current Phase Map)
Squares indicate battalions of the 917th, Squares with a line represent the tank companies of the attached 115th

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Colonel Alexander Nikolayevich Dovorov was awoken from his bed by frantic shouts from his aides outside his door. Major Ivchenko was pale in his face and could barely speak. Dovorov was not in a mood to handle this man and said "Speak" rather tersely to the major. The major finally managed to utter the words, "The Germans have attacked us. We believe at around 3 this morning. No word from headquarters and retreating soldiers and streaming into the city."

In a rare moment of visible surprise, Dovorov was shocked. For a moment a flash of worry struck the man but he quickly composed himself. Attempting to appear composed before his men, Dovorov slowly reached for his coat hanging next to his door, put it on, and lit a cigar. If one could have seen his hands through the darkness of the room, they were trembling and lighting his cigar was almost difficult before Dovorov took a deep breath. His calming demeanor mastered he said to the gathered staff officers, "So it begins."

He made his way through his makeshift headquarters in a commandeered mansion in Vilnius's south-eastern outskirts. He looked to the major, "Do we have any intelligence?"

The major shook his head, "We have only vague estimates. The retreating soldiers have put the advancing Germans at over 10,000 backed by 100 armored vehicles."

Dovorov cut the man a deathly stare, "I WILL NOT tolerate the ramblings of cowards. Those numbers are the fantasies of whipped dogs and shall not be repeated. The correct response, Major, is that we have limited intelligence suggesting sizable infantry and armored elements but not more. How long till they arrive?"

The Major contemplated his response, "Our front lines are crumbling, they will likely be here by midday."

Dovorov looked around the room at the assembled Senior officers, "Comrades, we must hold here. The river crossing behind us will not be used by the Germans to flank our southern brothers. Our first line of defense will be along the rail lines. We have terrain advantage when the approach from the west. Our second line will be formed before the bridge head. If the first line falls, all units are to fall back through the city to the bridge and regroup for a counter attack. They have the initiative now, once we know our enemy's strength, we will take it from them. Deliver this message to the field officers - 'Germans have attacked with infantry and armor, hold a defensive line across the rail line at all costs.' "

The message was short but it was all the men needed to know for now. Dovorov's mother had insisted there was no God. He hoped she was wrong.

-------------------------

Midday 22 June 1941

The retreating men did not seem to be too far off in their estimates. Contact with the enemy had been made across the entire line. Dovorov still had no word from headquarters. German infantry and armor had hit them hard. The Germans did not seem to have any air support at the moment. In the absence of orders from above, Dovorov took control of the situation. he radioed into the local airfield and commandeered several air elements of Yak-1 fighters and Il-2 Ground-Attack craft. He hoped that air superiority here could help stall the German advance.

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Germans have attacked along the lines in the map above and will reach Soviet lines by midday. Officers, your first post may include your reaction to word from the German attack but it should also include your first contact with the German enemy.

[The NAR]

Generaloberst Erik Schauden, the Commanding Officer for the 7th Panzer Division, looked over a large map of Vilinius. Inside the tent were other officers, as well as radio operators and other communications personnel. Operators relayed orders to the Luftwaffe and recieved scouting reports, as well as sent out orders to various platoons. They were preparing to storm through Vilinius, but this was going to be different. Vilinius was the first city that had considerable Soviet ressistance. Generaloberst Schauden drew his finger to the location with the Reich's flag, in the South of the city. "Wir sind hier , zusammen mit dem Großteil der Abteilung . Ein Frontalangriff ist riskant , da die Sowjets stellen eher eine Bedrohung als irgendwo sonst so weit. Deshalb werden wir zuerst senden in unseren Bombern , um das Hauptsowjetkraftbefindet pumble . .. Hier " he drew his finger to the Soviet Flag, located just across the train tracks from the German Positions. He drew his finger down behind the German Position. "Unsere Artillerie befindet sich hier. Nach dem Bomber -Angriff , wird die Artillerie ihre Position zu hämmern , und die Infanterie wird gegen die Sowjets im Schutz der Artillerie voranzubringen. Wir ermöglichen Infanterie in der Nähe zu bekommen, weil die überlebenden Sowjets nicht werden dort immediatley erwarten unsere Streitkräfte ". The Officers around the table nodded, aknowleging what was said by the Generaloberst. He drew his finger east, to the train tracks. " Eine Gruppe von Panzers wird von den Männern der Sechsten Motor Rifle Regiment eskortiert werden und wird die Sowjets aus dem Osten zu engagieren ... " he drew his finger west to the other train tracks, just west of the Soviets. "Panzers here will be escorted by an element of the First Battallion, and will engage Soviet Forces from the west, while a secondary unit will block their six against Soviet Reinforcements". Schauden looked up to the officers. "Ist dies alles zu verstehen , meine Freunde?". The Officers nodded, all saying "Ja". Generaloberst Schauden saluted the men, and then began to coordinate the assault...

---

Hauptmann Ackermann, the famed WW1 Fighter Pilot and outspoken National Socialist, had recieved the orders from Generaloberst Erik Schauden to engage the Soviet Positions. While he didn't fly a Stuka himself, there were two of the Dive Bombers under his command in his Squadron, piloted by Leutnant Schaus and Unterfeldwebel Kottmann. For this mission, it was the job of Erik and the four others to simply provide support and ensure that no Soviet Air Forces show up and if they do, to knock them out of the sky. Ackermann and his Squadron roar through the skies, quickly approaching their target. The Stukas ascend to a higher altitude, getting in position for divebombing, and the fighters maintain space to make chances of being hit low. "Schaus, Kottmann, viel Glück. Lebend nach Hause Brüder Hit" said Erik, and they both said, "Tod für das Vaterland ist besser als das Leben der Niederlage". The rest of the squadron laughed, agreeing. The Messerchmidts parted, making a huge area for the Stukas. Already, Soviet flak was flying at the Squadron, but few rounds hit the planes. Then it began to roar... hat terrifying wail that struck fear into the hearts of the enemies of the Reich, and filled the veins of Germans with pride and patriotism. Going so steep, it was nearly impossible to hit the Stukas, and when they lifted up, they both dropped a large payload. One Stuka, Schaus', was loaded with terrifying High Explosive Rounds, which were dropped primarily over the Soviet Defenses and artillery, while the incendiary rounds of Kottmann's were dropped over housing and living areas, engulfing them in flames...

System will decide how much damage

---

Back at the German Lines, Oberleutnant Wilhelm Ascher and his platoon lays in fox holes they dug the previous night, staring through the field and into the town. Some were smoking cigarettes, others telling jokes, but for some reason... Wilhelm wanted to sing, wanted everyone to feel joy before they went to fight. He picked the most popular song in the Regiment, and sang as loud as possible so that everyone could hear him. "Auf der Heide blüht ein kleines Blümelein!!". Everyone immediatley snapped their attention to Wilhelm and began to sing.

"Und das heißt... ERIKA!" they all cheered and continued singing together. "Heiß von hunderttausend kleinen Bienelein!! Wird umschwärmt... Erika!! ". Just as they were going to continue singing, they saw their air support approach, and a Soldier, Heinrich, called it out. "Schau!" he said, pointing at the Stukas as they began diving. The whole line of German Soldiers erupted in a cheer as fire and screams erupted from behind the cluster of buildings, at the Soviet lines. Ausblasen deinen Arsch , Ivan!! Nicht zum Wärme Sie Russian Stiche verwendet !?" yelled the same soldier, and the Wehrmacht men around him laughed again. Wilhelm couldn't help but grin. These men, his men... were his brothers, they were family, and he loved just... having good times with them. Though it wasn't all good times... this is war...

Cheers resumed when the sound of distant artillery shook the ground, and artillery shells began to crash onto the Soviet lines. Most were High Explosive, but many were fragmentation rounds and incendiary rounds. The Panzers in the East and West were moving into place, and it was time for the infantry to move in as well. "Für das Vaterland! Für Blut und Ehre!" yelled Wilhelm, and the Soldiers cheered. Wilhelm grabbed the whistle from the dirt and blew hard, then yelling "ANGRIFF!". The Soldiers roared and hopped out of their trenches, moving across the field with ease. Wilhelm was at the front of the line, and would lead them past a few houses. He peered inside the window of one of them, and there was woman with multiple small children who looked scared, but happy to see a German. Germany was liberating the Baltics... saving them from Stalin.

Taking cover in the buidlings, the German Soldiers engaged the Soviets. Morters crashed into the enemy lines, while Germans opened fire. Grenades were tossed into their lines, but it would still be difficult until the Panzers arrived. Wilhelm took cover inside a home, firing out the window with two other soldiers. The German Soldiers had better equipped and more coordinated, with air superiority and artillery support. Though, man vs. man is always hard...

---

Karl Thorn, Oberleutnant and Commander of the Infamous 5th Battalion, 5th Platoon, sat in his Panzer IV with the rest of his crew, and had been there for about 20 minutes. When the bombers came, Karl hopped out of the tank and sat on top, watching the Soviet Encampments be engulfed in flames, and then enjoyed watching German Artillery smash into Soviet lines. He climbed back in the tank just as the whistle was sounded, and Wehrmacht infantry advanced against the Soviet lines. That was their signal to advance and flank the Soviets from the West, while other platoons would hit from the East.

The 5th Platoon, Consisting of 3 Panzer IVs and 2 Panzer IIs, was occompanied by another platton of 3 Panzer IIs and 3 Panzer IVs in the advance on the Soviet flank. They weren't bundled up, because staying too close made you easily taken down by enemy artillery, tanks, and anti-tank crews. A few minutes later, the Panzers had the Soviet lines in sight. All at once, from both flanks, the Panzers opened fire, engaging Soviet Artillery, other tanks, and infantry itself.

The Soviets were now under attack on three sides, while being pumbled by German Air Support and Artillery...

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

“Knight to C4…”

With great care and unknown grace, a darkened hand moved a piece across the board. It was shaped like a fighter plane, the typical form of a Yak-1 fighter. Softly, the hand put down the piece on square C4, before withdrawing back to his original position. Vasily smiled.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t notice that opportunity, Mikhail…” he muttered through his hands, folded in front of his face. His eyes were darting around the board, recalculating a strategy. Plan A was ready for the shredder. Mikhail sat back, folding his dark hands behind his head, with a big self-indulgent smile on his face. He clacked with his tongue.

“That’s your problem, Vasily. You’re too rigid. You can’t build plans on bricks made from sugar cubes.” He picked up his glass and put it to his mouth. The brown liquid splashed around wildly, mimicking the uncontrolled hands of the chess player. A moment of silence followed, before Vasily could rearm himself. Quickly, his hand darted to a piece in the shape of a German motor bike, a bishop. In a single stroke, Vasily moved him almost across the entire board, blocking the available moves of the knight in one strike. Now, it was Vasily’s turn to sit back.

“You’re right, Mikhail. But we can make such plans if they are based around the failing of the cubes. Your move.” Vasily said in his normal, quiet voice. It had something fatherly about it, something learned, like he was being a teacher at the same time. That, of course, he was.

He looked around. The men of his wing were stationed at an airfield next to an abandoned farmhouse. A blessing, because the farmhouse was quite a spacious building. Within the first week of being stationed there, they had turned it into a semi-cozy home for themselves. Four beds lined up against the wall, a functioning water well just outside the door, a properly-dug latrine behind, and a constant supply of fresh eggs every morning. The chickens, it seemed had not abandoned their home easily. There was some damage to the homestead, sure. That was all easily fixed, though, as Mikhail had been a carpenter before joining the Air Force. In the spacious living room, a half-finished pool table stood on two feet, ready to be erected whenever Mikhail had finished working on it. One would almost forget that it was an army quarter, not a vacation home. The whole wing hoped the war could be averted long enough. They were not quite willing to leave their cozy home off to war yet. Mikhail sighed.

“Always a crusher of dreams, aren’t you, Vasily?” he said, as he moved a tower piece forward. It was shaped like a T-33 tank, the newest addition to the army’s arsenal. Vasily countered with an equal move, making a Panzer III take up a position diagonally to the T-33. Just as he let go fo the piece, his smile smug and satisfied, an alarm sounded. First only in the distance, accompanied by what sounded like distant thunder. Then, it came closer, the sound of sirens increasing in volume. Then, the airfield’s air raid warning began to sound, and the two men sprung up, rushing to wake their comrades.

“A drill at 3 in the morning. Are they mad? Keep that shit for Tuesday, or Wednesday. Not a Sunday, for crying out loud!” Mikhail cursed, as he drew Vlad from his bed. With military reflexes, the man was putting on his boots within the minute. Vasily answered, while dragging Pjotr from his bunk.

“This might not be a drill, Mikhail. Get to the airfield as quickly as possible. Go. GO!”

With the sound of sirens as their backdrop, the four men rushed to the airfield. While running, they found the time to put on helmets, goggles, jackets, parachutes and what not. Vasily even got time to holster his pistol, something he forgot every now and again. Through the corridor, to the left, out the door, across the courtyard, past the water well. The four men ran like their life depended on it, which was certainly the case. Outside, they could see the sky lit up with flood lights and flak cannon. The war had definitely broken out, and the Germands had launched a first strike. Hitler’s treason was complete.

“Peremeshcheniye!” Vasily yelled at his comrades, pointing at the parked airplanes in front. They stood there, like silent giants, sleeping dogs, unaware of any danger or harm.

“Davay. DAVAY!” he yelled, as the men reached the cockpits of their planes. It was dark, but the sun was slowly rising above the horison in the distance. Very slowly, the sky was being lit up not only by fire and electricity, but by the heat of the sun. Quickly, the men strapped themselves in, turning on the engines of their machines, before slowly making their way to the runway. The Hawker Hurricane, repainted with Soviet Insignia, at the front, followed by three Yak-1’s. The radio, which was installed in each of their planes (with the compliments from the ministry), began to crack and hiss, before Vasily got contact with ground control. Orders from Main Command.

“Lieutenant, there is little time to explain. German bombers are crossing our border, uncountable numbers. Fighters, dive bombers, regular bombers, the whole deal. It’s an invasion. Protect the ground troops until we can set up a proper defense. May Go be with you”

Vasily thanked him, and immediately forgot the last remark. Normally, religious speech was not allowed in these circles. Yet, one could be forgiven for making that mistake when the sky was blackened with Dorniers and Junckers. The engines of the planes sputtered, chocked, then began to roar, before taking the planes slowly skyward. The ground dropped away slowly, and the sun began to tickle the back of their planes. Ever higher they climbed, heading west, where the rest of the army was stationed. Vasily looked at a map he had sowed to the legs of his pants, carefully dividing attention between the controls and where they were going. Quickly, he signaled their intended target through to the rest of his Flight. He was solemn and straightforward, just like he always was during exercises. He had to make this feel like a drill. Combat could make a man go nuts, his father had always told him, so he was as quiet as he could.

“Alright, men. Pjotr, Mikhail, Vladislav… We’re headed west. To Markucice. I’ve plotted our flight path, just keep on my tail. Loose formation. Warn me of any spotted fighters, but let them go. We can’t fight the whole Luftwaffe on our own. We’ll be targeting Junckers, low-flying dive bombers and lone Dorniers if possible. Fighters will only be engaged for self-defense. Keep your eyes peeled, gents. Information wins wars.”

“Ura” it sounded from the radio, presumably from Vladislav. He wasn’t a very well-spoken man, but he was the first to shout things like “Ura” and “For the Motherland”.

“Ura” it then sounded, twice in a row, from Mikhail and Pjotr, in quick succession. They sounded more distressed, and Vasily couldn’t blame them. He pulled a bit more on the rudder, making the climb a little bit steeper on the plane. There, the flight of metal birds move westwards, onto the enemy. Onto victory or death. For the Motherland. For her people.

[Zeinbrad]

"So Mariya, want to-"

Before Artyom could finish his fifty flirt of the day, there was a thud that came from the front of Mariya's Kitchen ,a T-34 that Mariya commanded.

"German tanks on all sides!" Mariya reported, as the crew began to get into a more battle appropriate mood.Thankfully, the tank was not damaged, the Panzer IV's low-velocity 75mm gun not being able to penetrate the front hull of the T-34.

"All tanks, report" Mariya said into her radio, keeping a eye out for any Panzer IV's or III's which were the only real threat to her tanks if they managed to get a good shot on Mariya's rear.

"Two, all is good" Replied Dmitri, a gruff Serbian man who worked in the factories of Stalingrad.

"Three, everything's fine" Came the call from Sasha, a young boy from the Chernozem of Southwestern Russia, who already seemed to think he had a chance with Mariya.

"Four, no damage" Spoke Pyetr, a mullah who often was bullied for his Islamic faith, he was a good commander through and Mariya liked him, which lead to teasing for the both of them if they were anything besides comrades.

"Five, not even a scratch" Grisha finally replied, Grisha was a middle age from Moscow, and had a family to take care of back home. Mariya enjoyed talking to Gisha about life in the city of Moscow compared to the rural villages.

Good, the German's only hit Mariya, which meant that she was a clear target, she ordered her driver, Vladimir, to get reverse 16 meters, keeping the front of the tank the only thing that the German's could hit with certainty.

"All tanks, form up, make sure they can only hit your front and make it too much of a risk to get your rear, I want Two and Three to target any Panzer IV's or III's you see, there the only tanks that can penetrate us if their lucky, Four target the II's so they can't harass our infantry and AT guns, Five, make sure no infantry gets close"

With that, the T-34's moved, with Mariya, Dmitri and Sasha forming a line and firing on any IV's and III's they shall with Four holding the right flank and Five the left , meanwhile infantrymen began to get in cover and fire at any infantry they saw, with a few firing PTRD's at the German Panzer's without much effectiveness. A smile came to Mariya's face as her 76mm gun fired, at last, some combat.

[The Damned One]

Lieutenant Laskin had been sitting on top of her Tank, The Iron Maiden with one foot propped up on the main gun and was lecturing her crews about proper maintenance and combat protocol. More specifically what should happen if your tank is incapacitated, they were to detonate the tanks ammo racks and scrap it so that the vehicle could not fall into enemy hands. Extensive repairs were just being finished on The Tower, the KV-2 heavy tank that had been given to their division. The driver had blown the transmission during a drill last week and the repair part only now was finally put in.
The sound of chaos and panic, confusion and madness caught the divisions ears and eyes as they witnessed frantic fleeing coming from the command tent followed by shouting.
Laskin wasted no time, hopping up from her perch atop The Iron Maiden, She quickly shouted. “Mount up and prepare to move out, you have 15 minutes.” One of the newer members, a loader who went by the name of Jak snickered and said not too quietly. “Oh yea, id gladly mount that-“ unaware that as he said this the men moved away from him with expressions of horror on their faces.

A few minutes Later as they were driving away to the positions assigned to them by their commanding officer, some of the Red Army was amused and slightly confused as to why there was a man strapped to the front of one of the t34’s that were rolling out. He had a gag made of rather interesting looking piece of clothing and seemed to be saying something but no one really cared; the sight was just too funny.

A few hours Later.

A shell whistling overhead and landing somewhere directly behind them caused an explosion of dust, dirt and screams from the few foot soldiers whom had followed up behind the tanks in an effort to get closer to the actual fighting without dying horribly. Looks like it didn’t help, the ones that did survive simply left their dying comrades and jumped into the front line trenches deciding that hiding behind the tanks wasn’t a good solution.
More mechanical problems with The Tower had caused them to be a little late to the party but they arrived more or less in cohesion with the main force. A division of T-34’s had already moved up and were begging to feel the sting of the German guns. Though as of the moment it looked to be ineffective, Laskin knew it was only a matter of time before the Germans figured that out as well and switched to HE rounds to blow off the tracks and immobilize the machines.
Laskin had ordered her machines into a small dip in the ground to limit the Germans firing solutions on them by only showing the turret of the T-34’s and constantly moving after firing. The Tower was about a hundred meters behind them hidden slightly behind a farmers two story barn. It had yet to commence firing as the men were still loading the first round.
Laskin curses inwardly and calls up on the Radio once more. “Alexie! How far along are you in the process of actually shooting the enemy?” The static hisses for a moment before a crackling and broken Alexie, the gunnery Sergeant of The Tower responded. “Done Lady Laskin! Preparing to fire now!”
The Lieutenant snarled over the Radio. “Fire at that group of approaching german Armor and I might not shoot you for calling me that.” The final response was a shaky but legible “yes Sir! KV-2 opening fir-“
The mans response was cut off as the massive guns report drowned out everything and caused the Driver who was foolish enough to not wear his protective mufflers, to bleed from the ears as the sound rang both inside and outside the vehicle. The guns recoil and blast wave knocked inwards the corner of the barn the stubby 152mm was poking out around and made the entire structure groan. But no one in the division was paying any attention to that as they watched the shell tracer shriek overhead and slam right in the middle of a group of closely clustered approaching PZ II’s and III’s where it impacted with a massive firebomb that threw up so much dust and dirt that it was almost impossible to tell what kind of affect it had.
Laskin had to nod in appreciation herself and admire the explosion, however it was short lived as she watched the loader, the fellow who got a ride tied to the front of his own tank her neighboring T-34, open his hatch on the top of the tanks turret and climb out halfway to get a better view.
“Polinsky!” Laskin barked into her Radio. “Get Boris down now! We are in a combat zone for christs sake get his ass down!”
“Oh calm your tits girl im simply getting a better view like a real ma-“ The 26 year old loader never got to finish his sentence as a bullet passed right through his skull like it was a watermelon and explode out the back of his head in a shower of blood and gray brain matter.
The Gunner in that particular T-34, unnamed as of yet by the crew, began screaming as the boy who was younger than the now dead Boris started screaming his head off as the body of his friend slid back into the tank missing half of his head and staring off into space forevermore, tongue hanging out from the portion of his jaw that hadn't been blown off by the bullet.
“I saw it! I saw him! The guy who shot him! Hes on the other side of the tree line right there!” Laskins Hull Machine Gunner started babbling uncontrollably. The Lieutenant simply stared at him with those eyes of hers until he shut up and she calmly said to both him and her own Gunner. “If you see the scum who just shot your comrade… WHY ARE YOU NOT KILLING THEM?!” she finished on a roar which snapped them back to their tasks and the 76.2mm gun roared out at the tree in cohesion with the bow gunner opening up as well as Laskin taking a grip on the Coax and the three of them completely ripped up the tree line which the German soldiers were advancing towards.
However the young Gunner in Boris’s T-34 was still screaming until Laskin ordered the man to shutup and the machine gunner of that Tank to throw the Dead man out and take his place.
“You are here to Kill Krauts who have just shot your friend!” She spoke in a whisper that was clearly heard even over the shitty standard issued radios even as a enemy shell ricocheted off the turret of her own Machine. “This isn’t a game Gentlemen this is war and now you will do the Duty that the MotherLand asks of you or by the god I will shoot you myself and throw you into unmarked grave if we live through this day FIRE!”
That little speech worked and all three other Tanks in the division fired off a ragged volley at the Target which Laskin called out which was the still smoking area of the KV-2’s earlier shot to kill whatever survivors or machines that lay within. The next volley was perfect and aimed at a pair of approaching PZ IV’s as the dual machine guns of the T-34’s fired nonstop at the German Soldiers who tried to run across the grounds.
Over the Radio the division heard Alexie’s voice in its crackling haunting symphony. “KV-2… Firing”

And all across the battlefield the sound of rolling thunder marked the gun of Stalins Tower opening up its steel rain upon the encroaching enemy armor.

[True Christopia]

Melikov had been hearing the sound of german tanks rumbling for hours, he knew something was going to happen. And they weren't giving us flowers as a sign of friendship. When he had gotten word that the Germans were in fact attacking soviet front lines, he began preparing his men "Men! The fascists are invading! Get your gear and assemble outside. We're going to set up defensive positions on the railway track, as ordered, and are to fight for as long as possible. Do not give them an inch of ground, men." He said, before walking out of the barracks. He only had to wait for 5 minutes before most of his platoon were outside and ready, and he began marching them to the intended area of defence.

Melikov had gotten there just in time, the Krauts were just in sight and he rushed his men to the railway track "ИДТИ! Hurry to the train tracks men! Get down in the dirt so the Krauts can't shoot you!" He shouted as he drew his TT-33 from it's holster, checking it's ammunition. His platoon had been issued with better than standard, including SVT-40's and PPSH-41's. They were more of an assault squad, really. His men dove to the dirt as if they were being pinned by machinegun-fire. He stood behind them "WILL YOU STAND BY AND WATCH THESE FASCIST PIGS TAKE OUR MOTHERLAND? WILL YOU?!" He shouted, with different replies "NO!" and a couple of "NEVER!"'s, and "THEY WILL HAVE TO PRY IT FROM OUR COLD DEAD HANDS!" Melikov knelt down behind the line and looked out toward the German lines "All rifle-men, begin firing! Shoot every-last one of them and don't stop until they stop moving! When I give the order, every man with a PPSH will open fire! For now, stay out of side of the enemy. You will catch them by surprise!" He shouted once again.

Melikov laid down beside one of the men, Sergeant Dmitri, but kept by PPSH slung in favour of my pistol "Dmitri, you know what you are doing right? You remember your training?" I asked him over the rifle fire just in-front of us. He looked around for a moment, at his comrades, before looking back at Melikov "Да, komandir! Crush fascist dogs as they approach the train tracks!" He said back, with a grin on his face. I nodded, before peeking just above the train track. But then, suddenly, he heard a wistle slowly and gradually increasing in pitch. Artillery! He put his hand over his head and hoped it would not hit him, before shouting "ARTILLERY! BRACE!" The mortar and artillery shells pounded all around them, and firing halter for a second but quickly resumed. Today, Melikov was finally going to get a taste of battle.

[Vernoi]

Too Early, 22 June 1941

Sporadic gunfire woke Demyan this morning. It was distant, but just loud enough to be noticed. He grabbed his hat and jacket and managed to stumble his way out of his quarters; the effects of last night's vodka still apparent. It was barely dawn outside, the sun still hiding its lower half over the horizon. In the courtyard, Demyan was greeted by several enlisted men; some were on watch, the others awoken like Demyan. Among them was Demyan's platoon sergeant, a slim, brown-haired man by the name of Isaak. He was seated at a table beside the NCO's barracks, along with two other soldiers. They all noticed the Junior Lieutenant as he made his way over. None stood, but they all saluted. One spoke.

"Comrade Lieutenant! Good to see that you didn't miss our wake up call this morning." The man handed Demyan a mess tin cup and poured something in it.
"Some coffee Lagransky managed to get the company mess to part with. It isn't very good." He was right. It wasn't. The other speaks up.
"Lieutenant, do you know anything about what's going on up there? Armor doing live-fire drills?"
"I can't say I do, Chendev. Company command doesn't make a habit of doing surprise live fire." Demyan took another swill of his coffee. It was truly awful.
"Sergent, where is my messenger?"
"He is a heavy sleeper, sir."
"Ah. Figures he'd be asleep when I have a job for him. Well, perhaps you two can get up to company command and find out what's the hell's going on up there for me."
The two privates drank what was in their cups and got up. Neither looked terribly excited to be given orders so early in the morning.
"Grab a thermos and take this dirt-water with you. Try to get something good instead. Don't come back until you've got news for me."
The two were off within a couple minutes, disappearing behind the blockhouses. Isaak downed what coffee he had left. The guns picked up for a period, either by volume or caliber of fire, not that anyone could really tell. When they calmed back down, the Sergent asked a question.
"Sir, what if that's a fight? What are we going to do?"
"Right now, Isaak, nothing. Until Lieutenant Avdeyev gives us new orders, we operate as if it was any other day. Platoon muster in an hour. When those two come back, find me."
Isaak gave an affirmative and a salute as Demyan put his cup down and walked back to his quarters.

The guns kept up through the rest of the morning; the noise interfering with the muster on a couple of occasions. It didn't take long for the platoon rumor mill to begin explaining the sound. War was the leading speculation, followed in a distant second by ordnance disposal. The rumors were soon put to rest.

An hour after muster, Chendev and Lagransky returned. They brought with them: a bulletin on Company letterhead. Orders. Isaak brought the paper directly to Demyan, out in in front of the platoon's quarters.

"Lieutenant! From Command." He passes the folded paper over and waits as the Junior Lieutenant stares it down.
A familiar feeling hit Demyan. Almost the same sensation he got when news of the Winter War reached him. Though, this time it was different. He was in the line of fire, just like his father before him. He went over the words on the page three or four times before he really believed them. When he did, he looked up at his Sergeant's face.
"Those are Nazi guns we're hearing. Assemble the platoon. Full gear, loaded on the trucks in a half-hour. We've got orders, Sergeant Korolenko."
A stunned look graces the Jewish man's face. He manages to compose himself rather quickly before giving a salute and running back into the camp, shouting orders with each step. The camp breaks out in organized chaos, a mix of fear and excitement gripping the soldiers in it.

Noon, 22 June 1941

The platoon unloaded from the trucks nearly four hours ago. 3rd Company's T-34s were in place on the left when they arrived. The time in between then and now had been spent digging foxholes and filling sandbags. Demyan had the platoon dig in a couple hundred yards behind the rail line, looking to use the berm for a makeshift reverse-slope defense. Three of his rifle sections were set up covering the reverse side of the berm, with the fourth in close reserve. The sounds of the guns got louder and louder. Occasionally, one could see a flight of fighters pass overhead, en route to where those same guns were aimed.

Then, there was a whistle. It grew louder and louder, getting closer and closer. Impact. An explosion tosses mounds of dirt and clay into the air. The men that were lounging around in the summer breeze scramble into their foxholes.

"ARTILLERY!"

Demyan shakes off the initial shock, poking his head up out of his hole. There are more shells coming in; he can hear their screams mixed in with the screams of his men. He gathers all of the strength he can, shouting as loudly as he can.

"STAY DOWN! KEEP YOUR HEADS DOWN! WAIT FOR MY ORDER!"

Three more shells land in the space around him, peppering the area with dirt and smoke. Through the dust, Demyan can see the tanks opening up on something downrange. Another shell lands close by. Demyan decides to follow his own order. He thinks to himself.

Artillery barrage. An assault should be close behind. Just stay down, it'll pass soon.

He grips his carbine. It has begun.

[Torrocca]

The dawn of June 22nd, 1941

"Stepan? Stepan, wake up," a familiar voice said, lightly shaking the sleeping lieutenant awake, who muttered something vulgar as he opened his eyes, noticing instantly his uniformed brother, Alexei, standing over him. "Alexei, what is it?" Stepan asked groggily, rubbing his eyes as he sat up in his bed. "We got a letter from mother, Stepan," he replies, handing him an unopened envelope. Stepan shook his head lightly, carefully opening the letter so as to not make too much noise and wake the others. "Why are you up this early anyways, Alexei? You're not supposed to be up for..." he paused, putting aside the opened envelope to remove his pocket watch from a nearby drawer. He reads the time and says, "it's only five in the morning, dammit." "When was the last time we got a letter from mother, Stepan?" "... Right. Let's get to reading it, then."

Putting aside the watch, Stepan silently removed a folded piece of paper and a pair of photos from the envelope. He placed the photos down at his side and unfolded the letter, moving aside so that his brother could take a seat beside him. He spoke gently as he read to his brother the contents of the letter:

"To my dearest sons, Stepan and Alexei,

June 2nd, 1941

As you know, your sister, Roza, has already enlisted into the military along side you brave boys. Yesterday, I received startling news that she was to be transferred to the front lines alongside you both, as a-"

"Transferred to the front lines? What are those bastards in the high command thinking?!" Alexei interjected, an expression of shock on his face. "Mother's already heartbroken by the two of us being all the way out here, brother... now that sister is out here, I can't even imagine what her poor soul's like. But, please, let me finish the letter, okay?" Stepan replied in a soft, fatherly sort of voice, somewhat calming his distraught brother, who simply nodded.

"-as a sniper in the infantry. Her exact whereabouts are unknown, but, praying she is transferred to your unit, I expect you both to take good care to make sure that not only she, but yourselves as well, make it out of this in one piece. I know we're not currently caught in war with anyone, but, if something like that does happen, you take care of yourselves first and foremost."

It was Stepan's turn to go wide-eyed, as he read the next paragraph:

"Your baby brother, Dmitri, has announced plans to enlist himself into the military, shortly after his birthday. He's stated clearly that he wants to be a soldier, like you three already are, and like your father before you was. He says its his honor and duty to do such for our country. I can't prevent this, and I don't know what the military commanders will do with him. Make sure he is in good hands."

"With love, your mother, Natasha."

"This is madness, Stepan! If war comes to this country... I... I can't even imagine! We don't know what will happen, for all we know-" "For all we know, everything will be fine, baby brother. Clear your thoughts of these evil ones. We can't begin to think like that," Stepan quickly said, putting a finger up to Alexei's lips to quiet him. He put aside the letter and picked up the two photos. "Look, sister in her uniform. She'll give this country's enemies hell, eh?" They shared a brief chuckle, their eyes shifting to the second photo. It was a family picture of when they were younger, when their father was still alive and when Dmitri was just a baby. Stepan stared at it for a long while, then handed it to Alexei. "It will be best if you hold onto this one, brother. You'll take good care of it," he said as his brother accepted the photo. He stood up and walked over to a window, observing the barely arisen sun, saying, "you may as well get your uniform on, brother, otherwise the upper command's hounds will get sent to you." His brother nodded and silently left the officer's quarters.

Stepan went back to the drawer near his bunk, quietly opening it and placing the letter inside, atop a pile of others. He removed his neatly-folded uniform and began to put it on, sighing as he did so. He was home, but he was so far from home at the same time, and he longed to return back east, back to the farm where he'd spent most of his life. He buttoned his coat, grabbing his cap once the last button was secured. He looked down at it for a long while, at the insignia pinned in the front. This is our country, and this is what we will eventually fight for, he thought, putting the cap on a moment later.

Two hours later

"Alright men, listen up and listen good!" Stepan shouted to the platoon's formation, looking at the at-attention men as they stood proud and tall, facing forward. "Earlier this morning, high command received devastating news of a German assault on our forward positions further west of our lines here, forcing our brave comrades at the front lines to retreat to our location!" He paused to allow the men to take in this sudden and shocking information, watching as some of the men broke the silence and spoke among themselves about this. He raised a hand to silence them, then continued, "At the moment we have no good estimate on the number of infantry or vehicles heading our way, but it is our duty to hold our ground here and prevent the Germans from crossing the river just behind us! It is believed that we have at least until midday to prepare, so I want you men to hurry and set up all the defenses you can! Move out!" A responsive chorus of 46, unified, "yes sir!"'s were given in response, and the men hastily moved out, grabbing entrenching tools and sandbags, moving them along the line where there battalion was supposed to hold their ground. Stepan was quick to move with them, helping dig foxholes and trenches as well as move sandbags where they would be most useful.

Midday

The preparations being made were done a whole hour before midday, giving the men time to rest and relax in or outside of their defenses. Many went to grab a meal and some coffee to enjoy before returning to the lines, as was permitted by Yakovlev. The junior lieutenant himself was sat in a trench alongside three others and his brother, having a conversation about life back home and enjoying a small meal while they waited for the inevitable attack. Their brief conversation was cut short by a low whistle which gradually grew louder, turning into a tremendous roar as the beginning of the German artillery barrage met them. "COVER! GET INTO COVER!" Stepan shouted to the men that were now scattering away from the wide open area they were in. Several dove into their foxholes or their trenches, some seeking shelter inside of nearby buildings. The five in the trench covered their heads with their hands and whatever was adequate enough to use as protection, as none of them had any helmets issued, just like most of the unit, save for the squad leaders and the men with automatics.

The men waited for the furious storm of German artillery to cease, frightened that, at any moment, a shell could land in their trench of foxhole and be the end of them. This fear was made all the worse when a couple of foxholes were hit at about the same time, killing the occupants within. The only thing the men could do was lay low and wait.

[Dubrovka]

June 22nd, 1941
Morning
Lieutenant Gregory Malankov woke in the early hours of the day, just as the sun was cresting the horizon. After a few minutes of staring silently into nothingness, he finally found it in him to rise. He sat up, threw on his boots and his coat, and made for the canvas flap at the front of the tent. As he exited, he was greeted by a light breeze, and the morning mist. He looked around for a minute or two, deeply breathing, taking in the sights and the smells. He was feeling a sense of relaxation, a feeling he seldom had since he arrived at the forward camp not a week before. He was on edge since he got here, sorting out and dealing with out of line conscripts, dealing with high command all the way up to the Battalion level, and making sure his soldiers were ready. It was tough work, but he knew it would make himself as well as his soldiers better during the battle. There was no guessing from Gregory as to why they were there. He knew that his soldiers would be facing the Germans, why else would they be deployed so close to German lines?

For the past few days his platoon, along with the rest of his company had been digging fortifications on the western most edge of the defensive line, defending the flank. Within seven days, his company had dug three kilometers of trench lines, and layed seemingly endless amounts of barbed wire. Dotted throughout the trenches, there were supply points, machine gun nests, aid stations, mortar pits, along with even more spots for anti tank guns, which there were always so few of. Gregory knew that his platoon and the company for that matter were in the best of shape. Gregory knew this Regiment was filled with inexperienced, scared commanders, leading even more scared and inexperienced conscripts, who had shoddy gear and close to no training. No matter how much he hated to accept it, he knew that in a head on battle with the Germans, their only upside is that they could set up a strong defensive line and hold. He knew that his soldiers couldn't hold out against German soldiers, tanks, artillery, and planes. Yet, he didn't put off a defeatist vibe, to his men it seemed, he was as confident in them as can be. He was confident in his men, he knew they would all do their fair share. What he was worried about on the other hand, was the high commanders giving stupid orders, putting him and his men in the crosshairs.

June 22nd, 1941
11:30
Gregory was sitting outside of his tent, eating a revolting mix of hardtack, and a thick, filmly jam. He hated the food, but he ate it despite the fact. The day had gotten hot as the sun rose, until the clouds covered the sun, which allowed the day to cool down. Guns had been firing all day near their position, artillery, tanks, and small arms. He had wondered since dawn what the sound was, so he decided to head up to the commanders tent. He walked for a few minutes before reaching it, on the low ground a few hundred meters from the trench line. Gregory walked into the command tent and found the nearest officer. He saluted and asked the question "Sir, I was wondering if the tanks were doing live fire practice. I've heard the shooting all day and I was just wondering what it was". The officer then explained to rally his troops and prepare them for battle. The officer did not explain why, but Gregory abliged.

Gregory ran out of the tent and into his soldiers barracks, screaming and calling them to arms. He yelled "Soldiers! Take your position on the line! This is not a drill! I repeat, this is NOT-A-DRILL!". The soldiers all grabbed their gear and ran out to the trenches, preparing for whatever may come their way. It had seemed that other platoons had done the same, with multiple units already preparing the line. The DP-28s set up their machineguns along the line, placing spare drums next to the guns. The assault squad got into their position, along with the rifles, who all took aim and set up their Mosin-Nagants and PPD-40s. Then they waited in erie silence for whatever would come their way. Gregory ran down the line, inspecting his troops postions, giving them advice and orders.

He reached the end of his platoons line, feeling he had done an adequate job, and ran back to his position. He got in position and grabbed his binoculars. He scanned the horizon to see plums of black smoke in the distance. He then heard the faint sound of people talking, along with small arms fire, and grinding tracks. He put the binoculars in his pocket and again reached for his PPD-40. It was then that Gregory heard the faint whistle of shells zooming towards his position. He screemed as loud as possible "ARTILLERY! GET DOW-", before he could finish, the first shell struck not 10 meters in front of the trench line. Himself and his men were sprinkled by the dirt that was kicked up by the shell. The shelling contiuned for some time until finally, Gregory could make out German infantry and armor approching the line. Platoons from all down the line started opening up with everything at their disposal, Rifles, Machineguns, Anti Tank Guns, Mortars, and tanks. Gregory commanded his men to do the same.

His soldiers opened up on the Germans, the Mosins with their dull crack as they sent lead towards the Germans, the DP-28 with its consistant and droning "Thud Thud Thud", and the PPD-40 with its Alto "Tap Tap Tap Tap". Everything was opening up on the Germans, but they were not stopping. When Gregory looked over to talk to one of his squad leaders, he saw one of his conscripts laying face down in the mud, blood streaming from his chest. He then looked back over the trench to continute firing his PPD-40.

[Independent States of Tula]

Junior Lieutenant Vladimir Tula/3:25 Hours/1st Platoon/1st Company/2nd Battalion/917 Motorized Infantry Regiment

"Tula, get up! Get up! We've got orders from the Colonel Himself!" Exclaimed Senior Sergeant Pajari, Vladimir's second in command, as he shook Vladimir awake.

"Gah!" Shouted Vladimir as he fell out of his bunk onto the wood floor of the officer barracks, getting up quickly Vladimir asked now fully awake "Pajari, what in the world is going on!?!"

"Sir, the Germans, they're attacking. The front is falling back...the enemy will be here by mid day!" Pajari answered before handing a piece of paper to Vladimir.

Reading over the paper Vladimir saw that his job was to either set up on Hill 162 or the railroad in front of it and hold off any German attacks until further orders.

Looking up from the paper to Pajari Vladimir ordered "Assemble the men, tell them to carry as much ammunition as they can find and to report to me on Hill 162 with entrenchment tools. We're going to hold that damn hill and make the Germans pay in blood for every inch they take."

With that said Vladimir knew that the war that would kill him had finally arrived...however he didn't feel fear at that prospect...just quiet acceptance.

Junior Lieutenant Vladimir Tula/12:05 Hours/1st Platoon/1st Company/2nd Battalion/917 Motorized Infantry Regiment

The German Artillery barrage pounded around the shallow trenches and fox holes of Vladimir's platoon. Every man on that hill kept their damn heads down as certain death flew inches above them, and by the time the barrage ended most men could barely hear more than ringing as they peaked their weary heads up over their little holes in the ground to see what was clearly an entire regiment heading straight for them. Scrounging for his binoculars Vladimir watched the half tracks and limited armor of the 7th Motor Rifles advance towards the Soviet Center. Down below Vladimir heard the gun of a KV-2 near a barn by the railroad fire on advancing armor. Looking to his left and right he saw his men begin to fire in earnest upon the advancing Germans, catching a few that weren't protected by armored vehicles.

The DP-28s let out a hail of fire from the hillside as the riflemen joined in in targeting groups of infantry, and over all this noise Vladimir called out "Radioman, I need my radioman here now!"

A young private with an SCR-300 ran over to Vladimir's trench and handed him the receiver.

Nodding to the young man Vladimir set the radio to the right frequency and radioed in "To any and all air support in the vicinity of Vilnius this is Junior Lieutenant Vladimir Tula calling for a strafing run on the German center. We have an entire regiment approaching the railroad and Hill 162, we need air support, over!"

Giving the platoon radioman the receiver back Vladimir once more went to watching the carnage through his binoculars as two worlds clashed.

OOC: 15 of Vladimir's 20 Support Points spent on strafing run of 7th MR, will occur either by players or NPCs. Also for those interested in knowing my platoon structure with the Superior Equipment perk it's this:

4 Squads of Ten Men with this loadout-

1x Squad Leader with PPD-40
1x Radioman with SVT-40
1x LMG Gunner with DP-28
1x Ammobearer with SVT-40
1x Submachine Gunner with PPD-40
5x Riflemen with SVT-40

Then the remaining seven men form the Command Squad-

1x Junior Lieutenant Vladimir Tula
1x Senior Sergeant Pajari with PPD-40
1x Platoon Medic with SVT-40
1x PTRS Gunner
1x PTRS Ammobearer with SVT-40
1x Platoon Radioman with SVT-40
1x Submachine Gunner with PPD-40

(All men have three RPG-40 Grenades, TT Pistols, and 3 RGD-33 Grenades)

[Tracian Empire]

It was around three in the morning. In a small house that was at the periphery of a little village, four Soviet pilots were spending their time talking and playing cards. This was going to be a nice silent night.... or at least this is why they thought.

Junior Lieutenant Albert Andrey Alkaev was playing cards with Vladimir Aleksandr Sokolov, the oldest pilot in his flight, a veteran of the First World War, and Pavel Grigory Lagounov, their communist fanatic. Dimitry Rodya Mihaylov, their youngest pilot, was reading a book about the Yak-1 in silence.

The three card players were talking strangely about the possibility of a German attack.
"I really think that the Germans could attack us at any time.", said Albert, trying to order his messed hair a little. He was having good cards this time, and he had good chances to win.
"I also agree.", said the old pilot."They attacked us in WW1, why shouldn't they do it now? We already know that the Nazis don't like us."

Pavel looked at them, angry."I don't think that they will attack us. They are cowards."

The game ended a few minutes later, and bored, Albert started to look around. They where in a small house, and the owner and his family was sleeping in the back room. It was quiet, and so good compared to the cold of Finland. Dimitry was already asleep, with the book in his hand, and the other three pilots were thinking about going to sleep too.
Suddenly, the nearby airfield's alarm begun to sound, alerting the awake pilots and waking the asleep one up.
"What... what's happening... is this a drill?", asked Dimitry, half asleep. He was obviously not understanding what was happening.
"Is this a drill? At 3 in the morning? Wonderful.", said Albert.

Then sounds of artillery firing were heard. Somewhere near, someone was fighting, They were under attack.
"I don't know if this is a drill... let's go, let's go!", said Vladimir, calm.

Quickly, the four men, putting their clothes on and running to the airfield. They were clearly under attack. Enemy planes were in the skies, and their AA guns were desperately trying to protect the airfield. Then, they heard a sound Albert easily recognized from the Invasion of Poland. The German Stuka.

"Come on, come on! Fast!", shouted Albert to the other pilots, that were just standing there, shoked. Dimitry was was shaking.

They quickly got to their Yak 1's, and entered the cockpits. They had no time to check them,so they just turned the engines on and took off as fast as possible, with Albert's plane the first.

Once in the air, Albert quickly started to check the instruments. Everything seemed to be okay. Fuel, ammo, everything was okay. The picture of a Bf 109, bought from a German pilot in the Invasion of Poland,the plane he admired a lot, was still there, glued at the edge of the cockpit. Albert was fully aware that that was the plane they were going to face very soon.

He managed to turn on the radio, and despite the chaos, contact the Main Command. After that, he talked to the other three pilots that were standing in formation behind him.
"I just got the orders. We are under attack by the Germans, many of their planes are already in our airspace. We have orders to help our pilots fight the German planes, and provide help for the ground forces if possible. We will try to mainly attack Stuka's and other weaker planes. Dont attack fighters unless it's necessary. Be careful of what happens around you, we'll have to report periodically. Understood?"
"Yes.", answered the other pilots. They all knew that the war had begun. None of them was happy, they were all tired and stressed. Not even Pavel, the fanatic, said something else. They were probably going to die.

The four Yak 1's entered formation as they were heading to the enemy planes.

[Pan Asian Amercian Coalition]

22 June, 1941
Early Morning
2nd Battalion/ 917th Motorized Infantry Regiment, 3rd Platoon/ 1st Company
Near a fruit orchard outside of town

"Junior Lieutenant! Lieutenant!"

The shrill voice of the young radio operator roused Iona from his deep slumber, exhausted from a late night of soccer and drinking with the proud men of the 1st Company. His groggy mind was upset with the sudden intrusion, but dreams of the hot deserts of the middle east and the sweet bourbon from the Americas were pushed aside by instinct. Sitting up on his cot, still in full uniform and putting on his socks, he had to ask the young conscript what the matter was.

"Alright, Alright, kotyonok" Iona began with a slight but weary smile "what is it? Did Ilya get into my bourbon again?"

A sigh resounded from the younger man before answering. Was it the annoying, cutesy nickname for the unit's youngest member or Iona's intentional ignorance of the soviet doctrine? Ilya getting into the bourbon was a serious issue, as he always by some miracle found a hand grenade when bourbon was to be had. Iona stood up, in fully albeit messy uniform. The Junior lieutenant towered over the small radio operator, as they both walked outside the tent and into the chilly air and to the sound of.... fireworks?

"What the hell? Is the rest of the army doing a live fire without us? If they are the Colonel will never hear the end of-"

"Lieutenant Feliks, s-sir! That's german artillery! W-Word came from headquarters less than fifteen minutes ago, the Germans are attacking and they'll be here by mid-day!"

It wasn't apparent to the Lieutenant when he was still waking up back in the tent, but after being harshly awoken by the frigid air's kiss, it became obvious that the young private was terrified by prospect of going to war. Iona's tired face dropped into one of anger and resolve. He always knew this would happen eventually; the world is not big enough for both facism and communism. And of the two, the Nazis were the more aggressive, the more expansionist. They needed more and more land, they would never have enough until the whole world was theirs, and then they would look to the stars.

"Rally the sergeants" commanded Iona in a deep tone "and tell them to get the men ready for war. We will meet in the center in 15 minutes. I want every. Single. Man."

---

17 Minutes Later

Feliks was not happy about the fact that is took everyone an additional two minutes to prepare thanks a to a poorly timed alimentary emergency from one of the machine gunners. Whatever. The unit was now standing in neat rows, eight long by five deep, with the officers standing facing their squads.

"Men, I have sorrow news. First," he raised his index finger for emphasis "there will be no hot breakfast today. Anyone who can tell me why gets an apple."

A few brave and dimwitted souls dared answer the steaming Lieutenant, although many did quietly surpress a giggle at the 'sorrow news.'

"Out of charcoal?" "General Inspection?" "War?" "Our frying pans were confiscated?"

Everyone went silent as the marksman, the third to answer, got a fresh apple thrown to him. The feeling of shock was palpable as the grey eyed sharpshooter began to dig into the sweet fruit as the Lieutenant continued speaking.

"Sorel here is correct. Earlier this morning, we received news that the Germans made their next move: here. The first few Soviet units have been routed and it is our duty stop them here." At this point, diminutive Pvt. Sasha rolled up a map that was hastily pinned to a rolling blackboard. Here, the Lieutenant went over the plan with every soldier present.

His unit was to defend the rail line. Their plan was to set up three trenches; one shaped like a chevron, set two hundred meters infront of the other two and on the far side the tracks, while the other two trenches were to be sloped away so the entire formation resembled a rough triangle. The unit's engineers were to mine the first trench and retreat after a wimpy fight, to lure them into the crossfire created by the other two trenches, and to destroy the forwardmost once the Germans began to retreat. If they pushed forward, the rail line would be set with satchel charges at 50m intervals for the 600 meters of line that this unit would be protecting.

After his brief but informative explanation, Iona saw the face of defeat and fear already among his men, about half of whom were fresh faced conscripts. Angry at this shameful display, Lt. Feliks began one of his famous speeches.

"Comrades, I see the look of defeat upon you already. Why? What is there to be afraid of? The beginnings of a war? Well, comrades, this is going be the largest war in any lifetime, and I want to see the Soviet Union prevail over these fascist swine! Are you not the best sons of the Soviet Union? Is it not your duty to give your life in the defense of the land and people you cherish!? What will happen if the Germans get past our lines? Do you think they're here to spread joy and love? NO! They're here to raze us to the ground!

I am prepared to give my life for the life of the Soviet Union! You have not done anything I have not done! Your lives matter just as much as mine in this upcoming storm, and we shall remind these Germans they will reap what they sow. And here, they sow the wind, and soon they will Reap the storm! A storm of such proportions that it will flatten all of Germany! Nothing will be left in the wake of the furious might of the Red! Army! Now, who's with me?! Who will fight and drive these miserable swine back into their hole! They WILL be crushed, like bugs, under our heel!"

Iona was met with the earsplitting roars of UUURRA! in response. They see the storm is coming, and they will see it pass.

---

Mid-day
The unit had left early under high spirits and had arrived at their section of track nearly an hour before the other units, which was ample time to for the engineers to prepare the mines. The trenches that were dug were shallow but defensible, sitting at about a meter deep and 20 meters long. The soldiers worked quickly, as it seemed Iona's pep rally earlier had worked. They wanted to be ready to bear the full force of the Wehrmacht.

Parked several hundred meters behind them were the ZIS-5 trucks, the true workhorse of this unit, lay parked behind a thicket of shrubs to hid them from artillery spotters and attack aircraft. Iona watched from the thicket, with Sasha crouching near him, ready to radio orders to the sergeants in the trenches. He wished he could be there, shoulder to shoulder with his men, who were bravely facing the most powerful army one the European continent, ready to fight with a stalwart grimace and heart full of fire. Iona sighed in resignation; he stood back so he could co-ordinate their efforts better from here. Glancing down at this watch, he saw the time. 12:00.

The artillery arrived before the Germans did, pounding the areas left, right and center. The shells seemed to be a few dozen meters away from the target and of small caliber; either this was a sighting barrage or their field spotter screwed up. And of the two, Iona prayed to a god that he was told that didn't exist it was the latter.

[Suekiva]

Junior Lieutenant Anton Obraztsov
1st Platoon, 2nd Company, 2nd Battalion, 917th Motorized Infantry Regiment

June 22nd, 1941
10:00

Junior Lieutenant Anton Obraztsov awoke to the sounds of "Sir! Sir! Get up! They're coming!" Opening his eyes, Anton saw the frightened face of his assistant platoon leader, a young Sergeant by the name of Vladimir Untilov. He was frantically waving a piece of paper.

"I was just having a dream where our artillery rained down upon Berlin," Anton complained. "How did you get into the officers' quarters anyway?"
Vladimir brushed the question aside. "That artillery you've been hearing, it's real! The Germans have attacked! They'll be here by midday! We're to hold by the rail line."

He was right. Anton still heard the sounds of artillery in the distance. "Assemble the men! I'll take command in a few minutes."

"Already done sir! The other platoons have already deployed on the front. We'd better hurry or our absence will be noted." With that, Vladimir exited, leaving Anton to prepare for the day of hard fighting that was to come.

After donning his uniform, boots, and cap, Anton grabbed his already loaded rifle and other equipment, and rushed out of the barracks, prepared for his first day of combat in what was to become a long war.

June 22nd, 1941
11:45

Under Anton's command, the 1st Platoon rushed to the front, arriving just in time to have to huddle in their trenches, as German shells landed around them, with deafening explosions. When the hail of artillery finally abated, Anton grabbed his binoculars, a gift from his father. Popping his head out of the trench, he scanned the battlefield, seeing a whole motorized infantry unit, including armoured elements, advancing towards the Soviet positions. Calling to his men, Anton yelled, "Fire at will! Those fascist bastards dare step foot in the motherland, kill them! For the Soviet Union! For Stalin!" His men cheered in unison, "FOR THE SOVIET UNION! FOR STALIN!" Opening fire with his semi-automatic SVT-40, Anton saw a German pause, clutch at his throat with one hand, and then fall, as a pool of crimson liquid formed around him. He cheered at the sight of the first blood he had drawn for his country. Anton's victory was short-lived, as suddenly, the neck of a private a few metres down the trench exploded into a bloody ruin, spraying blood onto the nearby defenders. Three of Anton's men ceased fire and turned to help him. "What are you doing? He's as good as dead anyways. Get back to your positions and shoot the dogs who did this to him!" Anton ordered, gesturing to the advancing Germans. As the men hoisted their rifles and turned back to their positions, their complaints about Anton's harshness were drowned out by the piercing shriek of their still-living comrade. Even as the platoon ejected as much lead as their guns would allow, the Germans continued to advance towards their fortified positions. The opening battle of the war had just begun, and Anton's platoon was already down a man.

[Armeia]

2nd Platoon, Hill 162

Natasha was sound asleep, but jarred awake when one of her men shook her by the shoulders. She picked up her gun, which she always slept with just in case something happened in the field, and sat up, wondering what was going on.

"Lieutenant, there's Germans in the area, the 1st platoon is already in action," said the man, a low ranking foot soldier. "What are our orders?"

"That depends," replied Natasha, standing and walking out of the barracks. "What is their army composition?"

"We don't know," answered the soldier. "We think it's mech infantry, but there's no way to be sure from this distance."

Hard decisions are the ones officers must make, thought Natasha. How the hell did I even end up here, fighting my father's country and possibly leading 47 men to their deaths?

She didn't have time to finish her thought, the rest of the soldiers were waiting for her to give them orders, some casting her dirty looks for her half German ancestry. "We move quickly," she said, decisively. "We'll hit them on the flank while they're tied up with the first platoon, am I understood?"

Everyone nodded and the soldiers began the advance towards the enemy, where they would either find victory or death...

[New Republika Srpska]

Junior Lieutenant of Aviation Vasily Patrichevich,
245th Air Regiment/5th Fighter Division/1st Squadron

---

Junior Lieutenant of Aviation Vasily Patrichevich of the Soviet Air Force, woke up in the morning roughly, as he heard the sirens on the airfield, and then he knew a day of fighting was waiting for him. He jumped out of his bed, with the rest of his men, he putted his uniform on as fast as he could. He ran outside shouting "Come on! Hurry up! We don't have all day!", he after jumped into his Yakolev Yak-1 fighter, while his men done the same. He turned the radio on, and said "Turn on your aircraft!", he turned on his Yak-1, every fighter in his squadron was fueled up. "Is everyone ready?" asked Vasily his men over radio, they replied "We all are" after that Vasily asked air control to take off, permission was granted, and the whole squadron took off one by one.

While the 1st Squadron was in the air, Vasily received his mission to do over radio, even though he did not hear most of it, due to a little bit of static, he heard the words "1st Platoon.... Hill 162... Air.. supp.....rt". Vasily spoke into the radio, while his whole Squadron was listening "Alright men, looks the 1st Platoon of the 917th Motorized Infantry Regiment is in need of air support on Hill 162. Stay close to me, and follow my directions" then Vasily turned to the right, and of course, his squadron followed him. The 1st Squadron is heading towards Hill 162.

"I think we should gain some more altitude" said one of the Pilots in the Squadron, Vasily asked "Why? We're not in a hostile flying zone", then another Pilot said "But we are near Hill 162". Vasily said "Listen, do not be afraid, we might be near Hill 162, and I have no idea what the actual hell is going on there, but we are still in a friendly flying zone, so we won't be shot down", a Pilot asked Vasily "Do you think they're doing well there?", Vasily answered "I'm not very sure about that, and I'm also not sure how many of our comrades have already died on Hill 162".

The 1st Squadron was getting closer to Hill 162, they were only a few miles away from it, Vasily spoke into the radio "Alright, men! We are only a few miles away from Hill 162! Remember, do not be scared of the enemy, you all know very well what to do when there's enemy planes! And also remember your training! Your training was the most important, now the most important is to defend our motherland from these Fascist scumbags! FOR THE SOVIET UNION!" the rest of the Squadron shouted "For the Motherland!" as well. Everyone in the 1st Squadron was motivated, and each time Vasily spoke, they were getting closer and closer to the on-going battle in Hill 162.

"Alright, we are almost over Hill 162! Remember! Never be afraid of the enemy!" Vasily said before his whole Squadron lowered altitude and gone into skydive position. "5... 4... 3... 2... 1... NOW!" all the Yak-1 fighters in the Squadron split into 3 groups, each of the 3 groups, of course, has 4 fighters. Vasily was the first one who opened fire at the Nazi Germany infantry in his Yakolev Yak-1. The rest of the squadron also has opened fire on Nazi infantry, they knew after that fighters of the Nazi German Air Force (Luftwaffe) would arrive, but they were ready for a dog fight.

"Men, watch out for anti-aircraft guns, when they hit your plane, you are going down, be prepared to have your parachutes ready in-case that happens, but we cannot afford to lose planes, especially not men!" Vasily said over the radio before opening fire at the Nazis again. One of the pilots of the 1st Squadron was almost hit by a Flak shell, but they continued air support for the 1st Platoon of the 917th Motorized Infantry Regiment, so they could push the Germans back.

[Hohenstaufen-Germany]

22 June 1941, early morning
Junior Lieutenant Alexandra A. Kasakow couldn't help but smile.
Her four fighters looked pristine, especially if one considered something not all Soviet Fighters had: Radio. Add in her good mechanics and everything was certainly fine.
She was a young woman, she loved flying and her flight did as well - in a world at war, the motherland might need fighters in the air, protecting the own troops from the feared German Stukas and keeping the Messerschmitts off the tails of their own Schturmoviks. They weren't at war at the moment, but with the British Empire, the French, the Italians, the Germans, the Japanese and the Chinese at war, it was only a question of time, until someone saw Mother Russia as a good target.
It wasn't.
Sure, one would claim initial successes, offensives could always do that, but every inch of Mother Russia would be paid in rivers of blood. And then, the bear would rear back and strike.
One didn't really want to be at the receiving end. Kasakow wouldn't, she was a soviet fighter pilot, after all. She and her girls of the 2nd Flight, 2nd Squadron, 245th Air Regiment had one mission, when their time came: Escort the Il-2s, get them safely to their targets, watch them making panzers go boom and escort them home.
It wasn't much, but it would be valuable.
Her willingness and eagerness to fight for the motherland if needed, combined with her hate for the Germans, made her see scores and scores of enemy fighters fall to her and her flights machine guns. Sadly, that would have to wait until...
The sirens began to blare. Just a testrun..., Kasakow thought with satisfaction as she noted bleary eyed soldiers looking out of their barracks. No one would dare to attack Mother Russia!

22 June 1941, nearing midday
No one would dare to attack Mother Russia..., Kasakow thought with a bit of irony, ...except he is the German.
Either they thought, that the USSR could be defeated easily like Poland, Norway, Denmark, France, Jugoslavia and Greece before, or they had a death wish. If the first thing was true, it would be her pleasure to show them to their gravesides. If the second was true, Kasakow would be very happy to oblige as well.
And she had the right tool under her perfectly shaped rear end as well: Her Yak-1 Fighter, with three more, her wingwomen, by her side. They had radio, which was a great advantage when thinking about the poor sods without, they had good mechanics and good training.
Of course, that would mean nothing against an experienced pilot like those of the Luftwaffe, but it would be fine. Even those began with green wings against more experienced foes.
Kasakow and her flight had one mission and one mission only: Escort the Schturmoviks. Much like every ground-support plane, they weren't build for air combat, so they were easy prey for any fighter, which was why they were here. Once a large concentration of enemy tanks had been detected and reported, they would swoop in and take care of it.
The Germans would maybe operate after the same principle. They were circling over the battle, waiting for the ground troops to report a good target, but that would take a while, most likely.
Which was when Nadenka's voice interrupted her musings: "Enemies, three o'clock, coming from the west!"
"Take formation to intercept!", Kasakow ordered - a glance assured her of Nadenka's correctness. Eight small dots in the sky, grouped closely together. "Lieutenant, you are on your own for a bit!"
"Yeah, yeah, leave us to the slaughterhouse! And I thought I was lucky to have a girl with such a sweet sounding voice with me!", the Lieutenant commanding the Schturmoviks called back over radio.
There was grinning, black humour before the battle. Black humour before facing death.
"You can invite me to a drink when we have pushed the Germans back!", Kasakow offered an olive branch as she turned her plane to face the dots, which became larger and larger.
They were coming closer.
A little bit below, another flight was attacking the Germans, providing close air support, but that wasn't her field. She could make out the wings and the fuselage.
They were coming closer - four fighters and four planes of similar size, but with odd wings. Stukas.
"Swetka, Nadenka.", Kasakow ordered with a calm voice. "You break past the fighters. Valentina and I will occupy the fighter's attention."
"I copy." "Understood." "Yes.", came back, not always in accordance with radio protocol, but that wasn't a problem if one asked Kasakow.
"Break off and attack on my signal."
The Germans meanwhile got the fighters forward, preparing for an attack as the Stukas lacked behind. It was a classic meeting in midair.
"What signal?", Nadenka asked.
"Attack!", Kasakow yelled and all hell broke loose thousands of kilometres above the heads of the infantry.

[Dubrovka]

June 22nd, 1941
Gregory along with the rest of the men in his platoon kept their heads mostly down, only raising their heads up to take pot shots and throw grenades. The amount of artillery shells, incoming and outgoing, was awe inspiring. 60mm Mortars, 81mm Mortars, 88mm Artillery Guns, 105mm Field Artillery and 76mm Field Guns. Shells landed all around, some landing so close they sprinkled blood and dirt on Gregory's men. He raised his head slightly to look over the carnage, and saw seemingly endless amounts of German Panzers and Infantry, along with Half Tracks. In the skys above the carnage, he saw IL-2 Sturmoviks and Yak-1 fighter planes. He watched in admiration as the IL-2 pilots made steep dives and low passes to strafe, rocket, bomb, and generally tear up the enemy infantry and tanks. Some men cheered for the IL-2s, most kept their heads down, never experiencing something this fierce before. Gregory heard the screaming of men down the line, calling for medics and screaming incomprehensible babbles.

When the shelling stopped some time later, the German Infantry started to advance closer and closer to the Russian trench line. Gregory yelled as loud as he could "Alright Comrades! Now we make history! Hold the Nazis here! Pour it on Comrades!". At the end of his command, his men all stood up in their trenches and poured on the maximum amount of fire they could produce. Gregory himself was spraying into the mass of Nazis with his PPD, and his men were pouring on the DP-28 and Mosin fire. Gregory looked from side to side of the line, noticing friendly tanks on each of the flanks, tearing up the half tracks and tanks. Still, the grinding of tracks and the whine of engines kept growing in intensity, getting louder with each passing second. It was almost like they were shooting BBs at a bear. Gregory knew they were outnumbered, but he would spur confidence in his men until his dying breath.

[Torrocca]

After the bombardment...

"Hehe... hahaha! Look, look at those craters! These fascists can't even aim bombs properly! Ha! We'll stop them in mere seconds here!" a previously frightened comic shouted shortly after the bombardment had ended, upon his inspection of the ruined landscape beyond and between the array of foxholes and trenches. Others soon joined in, forgetting about some fallen comrades who had the unfortunate luck of being within the wrong place when the bombs fell. The laughter and joking continued for a minute, up until the first elements of enemy forces were within sight. "Open fire! Fire! FIRE!" the young lieutenant, Stepan, shouted, his passionate calls to battle followed by a violent choir of rifles, automatics, and personal anti-tank weapons firing at the advancing enemy.

The early stages seemed to be going well for the battalion at Rossa, as the men fiercely held out against the advancing elements of the 6th Motorized. However, the consistent onslaught of German forces and the gradually increasing numbers of casualties was taking a toll on the dug in forces. The valiant Stepan, however, stood defiantly against the waves of attackers until reality struck him as he was splattered with the blood of the man that stood between him and his brother, who caught a bullet that passed so close between the two. He turned, wide-eyed, to the dead man, then back to the advancing Germans. All around, friendly platoons were pulling back, and the men of his own were panicking, waiting for the order to retreat into the city. "Brother! We must fall back or we will DIE here!" Alexei shouted to his brother, pushing against his blood-soaked shoulder to shake him in an attempt to bring him back to his senses.

The junior lieutenant shook his head, reached into his pocket, and produced a small whistle. He blew into it, shouting immediately after, "fall back! Fall back orderly! First squad, provide covering fire!" He hastily turned to his brother and said, "you go with the other men and set up another defensive line. I'll hold here with first squad until then! Move!" "Brother, I-" "MOVE, DAMMIT! GO!!!" He pushed his brother to the edge of the trench, who stared at him, wide-eyed and mouth agape, merely nodding and joining the retreating men. Stepan and whatever was left of first squad held their ground, firing on the advancing German soldiers with what little they had. The addition of anti-tank rifles was put to use during this holding of the line with great effect against German vehicles, and the remaining riflemen and gunners picked their targets wisely, going for those posing the most threat to the platoon. About twenty seconds of fierce resistance from the Soviets went by before Yakovlev screamed, "FALL BACK! REGROUP WITH THE OTHERS!" He and the men of first squad fled the scene a second later, two of the surviving seven men getting gunned down from behind as they ran. The rest were lucky; covering fire from the remnants of the platoon suppressed the attackers, giving them the protection they needed to get to this new, makeshift line of defense.

Brutal fighting in the town occurred not long after, with every skirmish eventually leading to another orderly retreat deeper into the city, pushing the men closer to the rail line and the river they were tasked with defending, threatening failure if they were pushed too far back. Once they were pushed back out of the town, they stopped falling back and dug in, prepared to hold the final defensive line of their's to the end, if need be.

[Rezua]

"Lieutenant, come over here"

Tanya walked into the tent looked back at the Major sitting before her. "Yes major?" Major Reznov was a middle aged man who was growing grey hair all around the side of his head. "Comrade Lieutenant there have been reports of a group of ours pinned down by Fascist guns. I believe you know what you must do."

"Yes I do sir. I'll get my men ready."

"Comrade Lieutenant, this is your first time in combat yes?"

"Major I am a strong Russian. The Strength of the Red Army is behind me, I fear no german shell. I shall return in victory using my skills from training."

The Maj. Reznov nodded "I'll be excepting you back then Lieutenant."

Tanya walked out of the tent to be pulled aside by her most trusted Stg. Puticov. "Comrade Lieutenant our tanks are ready, I have told of the mission." Puticov was a very blunt man, Tanya liked that. If there was a problem he'd tell her. And he was very gopd at his job. Tanya nodded "Good we are leaving right now." Puticov hesitated "One problem ma'am...Lara got in some trouble again..." Tanya cursed loudly and stormed off to the quarters of infantry men. Lara had been a problem the whole time at base and was a clumsy fool. But when it came to tanks Lara did her job wonderfully, like Puticov, the only reason Lara was still with Tanya. The young private Lara was passing an infantry barracks . She continued walking by but they were trying to get her to stay. Luckily Tanya came by at just the right time. The men quickly turned back to a card game they pretended to have been playing all along. "Comrades why are you bothering my soldier again?" One man looked up looking quite hurt "What?! Comrade Lieutenant she came by here, she wasn't forced. Tanya slugged the man right across the face and roughly dragged Lara pass the stunned infantry. "Private this is the second time I have had to punch one our own to get you out of a predicament. Either learn to punch or how to run. Some men put pleasure before work. Get into your tank and kill some fascists, then they'll leave you alone." Lara said back "Easy for you to say, you lack the full figure of a woman and are as cold as ice." Tanya said "Would you like to go to Siberia to learn to be cold, private?" Tanya used this frightful but empty threat to get her soldiers motivated. Lara ran off toward a T-34 were Stg. Puticov was in the driver's seat. She climbed down into the tank and got to her seat. "Hey, Lara, I can't remember the Lieutenant ever sending a soldier to Siberia, at least no one important." The man laughed along with the out men in the tank as Lara panicked "What do you mean no one important? What!? Are you kidding?" The men only roared louder at the new soldier's discomfort. They had served in the Great War. Tanya climbed into her tank were private Zarof quickly put out his cigarette. "No smoking in my tank, comrade, it stinks it up." She reminded him. "O-of course ma'am. I shall not forget again." Tanya said "Alright let's get moving, NOW!" Tanya called. She waved her right arm and her tanks began moving off to where a battle was said to be taking place.

[Independent States of Tula]

Colonel Alexander Nikolayevich Dovorov/14:00 Hours/917th Motorized Infantry Regiment

Two hours, it had been two hours since the Germans had made contact with the Soviet Forces near Vilnius. To be honest the reports the Colonel was getting weren't so bad after all, on his left the 3rd Battalion of the 917th Motorized Infantry Regiment and 3rd Company of the 1st Battalion of the 115th Tank Brigade had only suffered 50% casualties in repulsing the majority of the 1st Battalion of the 25th Panzers with their estimates of casualties inflicted around the 30% area. Reports from the Center were even better with the entirety of the 7th Motor Rifles practically killed or captured at the cost of only about 20% losses for the 2nd Battalion and 2nd Company. However on his right flank things were getting difficult, the 1st Battalion and 1st Company were reporting 70% losses and were being pushed to the northern outskirts of Rossa. The forces in Rossa were close to being overrun and threatened to break under the German attack that had only suffered perhaps 30% casualties.

With things becoming dire for the Soviets Colonel Dovorov knew he had to act fast to save his right flank and keep the Germans from encircling his forces. Thinking fast he prepared his orders and immediately had them sent out to the Frontlines to be carried out.

Orders From Colonel Dovorov

-1st Battalion of the 917th Motorized Infantry Regiment and 1st Company of the 1st Battalion of the 115th Tank Brigade are to hold their ground in Rossa. Any soldier who retreats will be shot on the spot for cowardice. Hold the line at all costs.
-1st and 2nd Companies of the 2nd Battalion of the 917th Motorized Infantry Regiment are to assault the 6th Motor Rifles' eastern flank in Rossa to relieve pressure on the defenders there and to push back or destroy the 6th Motor Rifles. This assault will commence alongside a sustained artillery bombardment of Rossa by our artillery to cover your assault.
-3rd Company of the 2nd Battalion of the 917th Motorized Infantry Regiment will hold Hill 162 and over watch prisoners taken from the destroyed 7th Motor Rifles.
-3rd Battalion of the 917th Motorized Infantry Regiment and 3rd Company of the 1st Battalion of the 115th Tank Brigade shall counter-attack the 1st Battalion of the 25th Panzers to their South.
-2nd Company of the 1st Battalion of the 115th Tank Brigade will disengage from its defensive positions near Hill 162 and move to assault the Western Flank of the 1st Battalion of the 25th Panzers South of Markucìce to aid the counter-attack of the forces stationed in Markucìce.
-All fighters of the 215th Air Regiment are to disengage from their current tasks to escort IL-2 Attack Aircraft of equal size to their flights on their way to attack the 1st Battalion of the 25th Panzers as air support.

OOC: Colonel Dovorov uses 50 of his 80 Support Points to call in an artillery barrage on Rossa. All fighters are to begin RPing their escorting of IL-2s on their way to attack the 1st Battalion of the 25th Panzers.

[Armeia]

Natasha watched as her men succeeded in battle, taking much less losses than kills. "Good work!" she shouted. This was the first time she'd really fought, since she was coming straight out of the officer's academy, and... She was happy to be alive. "Thank God," she muttered low enough that nobody else could hear, before a soldier ran to her.

"Our orders are to attack the 6th Motor Rifles," he said. "Shall we move now?"

Natasha shook her head. "Take a rest break and wait for the support."

"Yes, Lieutenant," replied the soldier, giving orders to the rest of the group. She could tell they respected her more after this battle, before she had gotten a lot more dirty looks because she was suspected of being a German sympathizer.

Natasha looked over her men's faces, they looked like they wanted to go back to bed, and understandably since the combat had started while they were sleeping. "You'll all rest eventually," she said, in a soft tone. "For now we have jobs to do."

[Hohenstaufen-Germany]

In the air
Kasakow and her wingwoman passed the German fighters twice their number, her own two additional aircraft engaging the Stukas. They were Schturmoviks, only with swastikas.
It should be easy prey.
That was known to the Germans, too, who, as Kasakow and Valentina turned to begin a dogfight, but with Swetka and Nadenka continuing forward, began to turn themselves onto the Il-2s.
Their attack aircraft were easy and simple prey.
Kasakow bit back a curse. "Nadenka, Swetka, let the Stukas be! Our own have priority!"
"Understood.", came the crisp and clean reply. They made one pass, but it was rather inconclusive: Both were relatively sure, that they hit something, but the Stukas had already started their attack run, so if one of them was going down, they would have to see it later.
Now, they were turning as well.
As the four Bf 109 began their own attack run on the Il-2s, Kasakow couldn't help but to worry. Maybe the German plan had simply been the same as hers, only committing the whole flight? Maybe they chose to take out the Schturmoviks above Rossa, who prepared to attack the advancing tanks, before taking care of her and her fellow fighter girls?
Maybe she should just go to show them the might of Mother Russia, where daughters of the skies defended the sons of the land. their aircraft not completely superior to their German foes, but damn close to it. As the four Messerschmitts prepared to attack the flight of attack aircraft, Kasakow opened fire, wanting to scare the Germans away.

[Rezua]

Natasha watched as her men succeeded in battle, taking much less losses than kills. "Good work!" she shouted. This was the first time she'd really fought, since she was coming straight out of the officer's academy, and... She was happy to be alive. "Thank God," she muttered low enough that nobody else could hear, before a soldier ran to her.

"Our orders are to attack the 6th Motor Rifles," he said. "Shall we move now?"

Natasha shook her head. "Take a rest break and wait for the support."

"Yes, Lieutenant," replied the soldier, giving orders to the rest of the group. She could tell they respected her more after this battle, before she had gotten a lot more dirty looks because she was suspected of being a German sympathizer.

Natasha looked over her men's faces, they looked like they wanted to go back to bed, and understandably since the combat had started while they were sleeping. "You'll all rest eventually," she said, in a soft tone. "For now we have jobs to do."

When Tanya pulled up to the other Russians sleeping she wiped out her pistol and fired into the air "Hey! What the hell are you doing comrades?! Advance!" You have orders just as I do! Advance!" Tanya didn't bother to ask the commander of these sleeping soldiers to tell them to move. She had a tank, she was in charge. Tanya got back into her tank and said "Turn the guns at those German lines, get behind some cover and fire." Tanya got out again and told this order to the others. After they got behind trees and hills they opened fire to protect the infantry.

[Vernoi]

Jr. Lt. Demyan Marchenko, 3rd Platoon, 3rd Company, 3rd Battalion, 917th Motorized Infantry
Just past 14:00, June 22nd 1941

The guns slowed a few minutes ago, and orders came in shortly after that. The platoon had barely enough time to gauge casualties. The section leaders that were left gave their reports directly to Demyan. Eight dead, including a section lead, and at least fifteen wounded and bleeding out. The platoon medic darted off as soon as the last reports came in, grabbing what medical supplies he could carry.

Demyan had the remaining section leaders gathered by his foxhole. Their uniforms were all sullen with earth, transforming what were well-pressed army slacks into amalgamations of cloth and clay. Each person there was holding it together to a different degree. Sergeants Elkin, fourth section's lead, and Tolmachyov, of first section, were calming themselves with a carton of cigarettes. Sergeant Borodin, third section's leader, was fidgeting with field dressing on his right arm. Yefreytor Kasharin, the closest thing to a command structure left in second section, spent his time staring at his rifle. Demyan went over his orders twice before starting the briefing.

"All right, let's get to it. The rest of battalion managed to hold the other side of the town, but they're hurting for it just like us. Hans fell back to the other side of the tracks, about here. The whole of the left flank, us included, is following up with a counter-assault. Now, we've got air support coming in, but I'm not going to count too much on it."

Demyan takes out his bayonet and draws a crude battle line in the clay.

"Fourth section is bleeding the least, so they're going to come out of reserve and form the left flank of the advance. Second and Third sections are hurting pretty bad, and with Sergeant Grankin dead Second is in no shape to advance on it's own. So, Second is going to consolidate with Third and form at the center. Borodin, that's your command. First section is remaining on the right."

Demyan pauses for a second, making sure everyone is following along.

"Elkin and Tolmachyov, when I give the command, First and Fourth will bound up. Give it about two hundred yards then, stop. Second and Third are going to cover until you do. Then, switch. First and Fourth cover until Second and Third are in-line with them. We're going to keep up in that pattern until I change it."

Demyan pauses once again, sheathing the bayonet and standing up from his battlefield scribble.

"Got it?" No confused faces among the lot. A stout, bearded man standing to Demyan's right raised a hand.

"What is it, Borodin?"

"Sir, what happens if we hit heavy armor in the center? Third's hurting for AT measures right now and I don't think we could advance much if we hit too much of it."

"If we're lucky, air support will clear most of it. The company's AT platoon will pick up what they can. As for the rest, we'll have to improvise. Gather what you can; frag grenades can't knock out armor but they can confuse the crew. I'm not expecting to hit anything we can't deal with, and if we do I'm stopping us until it's dealt with."

Demyan stops and adresses the rest of the group.

"Otherwise, we're going to keep up a rapid pace. We can't give them too much time to reorganize, so make sure you don't stall on your advance. Keep your lines clear and make sure no one bunches up. Anything comes up, the command section is going to be advancing on the right with First section. Dismissed. Go brief your men."

Each man gives a quick salute before shuffling off towards they're respective areas. Elkin quickly began yelling orders towards his section's position. Demyan scratches out the dirt plans. Looking up, he spots two of his runners.

"Sergeant Korolenko! Akhremenko! Igoshin! Get over here!"

The two privates jump at the order, rushing over as fast as they could. Isaak followed just behind, scrambling up from his foxhole. Demyan stops them before they salute, immediately giving them their orders.

"Privates, I need you two to get out the Third Company's T-34s. Tell them we need some close support on the advance. We've got armor all over the place and I need it cleared for us to advance. You're there to spot targets for their guns. Go."

The two rush off, grabbing their weapons as they go.

"Sergeant Korolenko, you are going to advance with the Fourth on the left flank and relay priority targets to the spotters. Anything that you can't deal with and looks like it's going to impede the assault."

Demyan gives a 'dismissed' gesture and Isaak trots off to join up with Elkin's section. The Junior Lieutenant takes a look at the field in front of him. Pieces of abandoned armor and shell-holes are scattered haphazardly among the dandelions. The town just to his right was barely holding together, shells permeating the edifices. Specs of Soviet movement in its streets could be seen from his vantage point. Back behind him, he could hear the guns opening up again. The calm was over; now for the storm.

"Command Section, with me!"

Two riflemen formed up with the Lieutenant, one sporting a field bandage on his thigh. The platoon's medic looked up from his current patient for only a second, happy to ignore that order in favor of his current task. In turn, Demyan ignored the insubordination. He took the rifles over to the right, finding Sergeant Tolmachyov finishing up his own briefing.

The skies came alive with noise. The IL-2s now visible in the distance; lumbering towards their target. Demyan took position in a vacant foxhole, gripping his carbine. He unsheathes his bayonet and attaches it, addressing as much of the platoon as he can while doing it.

"3RD PLATOON, FIX BAYONETS!"

The order is echoed down the line by subordinate troopers.

"READY!"

[Independent States of Tula]

Junior Lieutenant Vladimir Tula/14:15 Hours/1st Platoon/1st Company/2nd Battalion/917 Motorized Infantry Regiment

"No rest for the wicked it seems..." Vladimir stated as he looked over the new orders a runner handed him as his platoon herded two dozens prisoners over to the care of Third Company of the Second Battalion.

"Sir?" Senior Sergeant Pajari asked as he came up next to Vladimir.

"The Colonel has ordered us to attack the Eastern Flank of the Sixth Motor Rifles in Rossa. We'll be advancing under cover of artillery bombardment at least. However it looks like the First Battalion is about to be demolished by the Germans, we need to take the pressure off them." Vladimir explained before asking "How many casualties did we take?"

"Four dead, another five wounded beyond combat capability. Most casualties were from the artillery bombardment by the Germans. The Seventh didn't have a chance when we opened up on them while they were crossing open ground...especially after that strafing run by our planes. Most of their halftracks are completely destroyed, all armor support they had was eliminated by the Second Company of the one-fifteenth." Pajari replied.

"Excellent, alright let's get moving, artillery bombardment will start soon." Vladimir said, quickly the rest of his platoon followed him as he led the way forward.

On their way to the staging point for the assault Vladimir's men began to pass by a platoon that was taking a breather, their officer seemed to be a woman and so Vladimir called out to her "Hey, come on, no time for breathing after the fight. We need to move, First Battalion is counting on us!"

Vladimir didn't push the topic any further as he continued to move forward to the staging area which was located behind the railway tracks near eastern Rossa. With the sound of battle getting louder the closer they got eventually Vladimir and his platoon moved the rest of the way towards the by crawling on the ground to use the cover provided by the raised railway tracks. Once in position Vladimir looked around to see how many other platoons from the First and Second Companies were in position to assault Rossa as well, he saw a few but knew that a few were also hanging back, probably hoping to let the forward-most platoons take the heavy casualties so they could mop up. Vladimir shook his head at the thought, there was no room for cowardice in the Red Army...the NKVD made sure of that...the bastards. However before Vladimir could think more of the tactics of the Red Army the sound of Katyusha Rockets and Howitzers behind Soviet Lines was heard and looking up Vladimir watched as the Rockets rained down upon Rossa with terrifying ferocity.

(OOC: Music for the Rockets...KATYUSHA)

With the Rockets raining down upon the town of Rossa, avoiding the Northernmost defenders of the First Battalion and First Company the sound of whistles from the tracks just east of Rossa could be heard.

Being the first to stand up in his Platoon Vladimir shouted "CHARGE!!! WITH ME COMRADES!!! FOR THE MOTHERLAND!!!"

With a massive roar the relatively fresh troops of Vladimir's platoon led the charge towards Rossa as it was being pounded by rocket and artillery fire. Raising his SVT-40, Vladimir fired three shots at two Germans trying to keep their heads down behind a small rock wall to avoid the rocket fire, however that left them open to being shot by the advancing Soviets and in a few short seconds the two Germans were dead. Making it to the easternmost part of Rossa Vladimir and his platoon kicked in the door of a two story house and quickly went to clearing it out to use as cover until the end of the artillery bombardment.