The dense fog cloaked the edges of the forest, reducing visibility to a frightening degree. The distant rumble of gunfire added a sinister undertone to the atmosphere, hinting at the bloodshed occurring beyond sight. Amidst this unsettling scene, a field command car equipped with a radio station navigated slowly along the forest road. This vehicle, specially designed for armored forces, carried an electrician who busily adjusted settings on his new radio station. Accompanying him were two guards armed with MP-44s and Guderian's adjutant. Guderian himself sat in the co-pilot seat, his body swaying in sync with the car as it jolted over the uneven ground. Beside the driver, who focused intently on the road, hung a G43 rifle.
The six-wheeled vehicle lacked doors, resembling an armored reconnaissance car but without the typical top armor or artillery. Guderian, nonchalantly resting his foot on the car's threshold, hummed a tune from his hometown. As the German assault on Poland entered its tenth day, Guderian observed that improvements were necessary, particularly in communication. He often lost contact with his units, hindering his ability to command the fast-moving armored troops effectively. To address this, he decided to accompany his forces directly in the command car.
His 1st Armored Division had recently driven Polish defenders from the forest and taken numerous prisoners. Now, he needed to catch up with the 1st Armored Regiment, which had advanced beyond the forest and seized a small town. His immediate goal was to locate a high-powered radio station there to coordinate further operations.
Suddenly, a shell whistled through the air and exploded close behind their vehicle, shaking it violently. Confusion ensued inside the car as everyone grappled with the unexpected attack. The two guards quickly raised their rifles, scanning the surroundings with heightened alertness.
"That's a 75-mm caliber howitzer from the 9th Motorized Infantry Division," Guderian stated, his expertise in artillery evident. "Isn't it explicitly forbidden to fire in foggy conditions?" he questioned, frustration coloring his tone.
"These idiots! Have they not read the directive?" the adjutant exclaimed, visibly shaken by the near miss. "We must issue a formal protest and demand an explanation from the corps headquarters."
"Brake!" Guderian suddenly yelled to the driver as another shell screamed through the air. "Watch out!"
"Boom!" An artillery shell exploded directly in front of the car. Dust and gravel pelted the windshield, a stone embedding itself in the glass and creating a web of cracks. "My goodness!" the adjutant gasped, staring at the stone that had narrowly missed hitting Guderian.
"Quick! Evasive maneuvers!" Guderian shouted, seizing the steering wheel and urging the driver to accelerate. The car swerved abruptly, veering off the road and into a ditch. The occupants were jostled roughly as the vehicle plunged into the ditch, their shouts mingling with the roar of the engine and fading into the foggy distance.
Behind them, another shell struck the road where their car had been moments earlier, sending up a cloud of smoke. It appeared that the 9th Armored Army, unaware that the 1st Armored Division had secured the forest, was laying down preparatory fire for an assault.
"Is anyone hurt?" Guderian asked, surveying the damage to the vehicle and the shaken crew. From his position, he could see smoke rising from the engine.
"A guard is injured; he's bleeding from a facial wound. The rest of us are okay," reported his lieutenant from inside the car.
"We must continue on foot. We're about 5 kilometers from the 1st Regiment's headquarters," Guderian stated, his tone a mix of determination and frustration. "Only there can we inform the 9th Infantry Division of their mistake. They nearly got a German general killed!"
They had only walked for a few minutes when a truck bearing the insignia 'G1' of the 1st Armored Division stopped beside them. Recognizing the vehicle as part of his division—named after him by the head of state—Guderian and his group were relieved.
"Need a lift?" called the driver, who, perhaps unaware of their identities due to a recent directive for front-line officers to wear steel helmets instead of the recognizable wide-brimmed hats, pulled up just ahead, leaving them in a cloud of dust.
"Of course! Thank you!" Guderian responded with a smile, appreciating the irony of the situation. Once the driver realized he had just offered a ride to General Guderian himself, he was visibly startled. Guderian climbed into the truck, which was laden with barrels of gasoline. Despite the strong fumes, he was pleased to be moving towards his regiment without further delay.
Upon reaching the 1st Regiment's headquarters, Guderian issued a flurry of orders, one of which was to inform the 9th Infantry Division to cease their unnecessary shelling. He also drafted a humorous memo to the National Defense Forces headquarters, playfully chastising the artillery units for their overzealousness in the fog, which had nearly resulted in his own demise.
"This war episode finally has an amusing ending," Guderian mused, as he later received a cheeky response from the 9th Motorized Infantry Division: "You should be glad we used 75mm guns instead of Frederick rockets."
Hours later, the 9th Infantry Division was temporarily reassigned under the command of the D Group Army, led by the First Armored Corps. The division's commander was nearly brought to tears by the change, which underscored the seriousness of their earlier mistake.
Guderian then coordinated with the SS Third Armored Division, directing them to halt their eastward advance and instead prepare for a potential engagement with the main Polish forces moving south. He suggested that the Frederick Rocket Unit of the 9th Infantry Division follow up to provide additional firepower.
As these plans were set into motion, an officer delivered a report from an Air Force reconnaissance plane, indicating that the Polish forces were retreating rapidly southward, with a significant number of tanks. Guderian ordered caution and requested additional air support to counter the Polish air threat.
In the wilderness, the SS Third Armored Division readied themselves for the confrontation. Captain Marcus of the 112th tank complained about the grueling march, but Commander Carter reminded him of their duty. As they spotted smoke at 1 o'clock, indicating the presence of Polish troops, excitement and tension filled the air. They prepared for a battle that would test their mettle and strategy in the fog of war.
"Bruce, we've been hit! We've been hit!" Bruce's voice pierced through the tense atmosphere inside the No. 113 Leopard tank. Moments before, an artillery shell had struck the tank's front armor plate, causing the entire vehicle to shudder violently. The sharp, unsettling clang of the impact left every crew member momentarily disoriented.
"Calm down! It hasn't penetrated! We're still intact!" Andrea, the gunner, shouted, trying to restore some semblance of order within the cramped interior of the tank. Meanwhile, Ren, peeking out from the tank, surveyed the battlefield with a critical eye. After a brief observation, he ducked back into the safety of the turret, pointing urgently to the right. "I see three Polish tanks to the right, two on the left, and an outdated armored vehicle."
"Turn the turret! Target the right flank! They're closing in on us!" Ren commanded sharply. The machinery of the Leopard tank whirred into action as the turret rotated swiftly to the right, coming to a halt as the coaxial machine gun spat out a burst of fire. "Target acquired!" Andre announced, his voice tense but focused.
With a thunderous roar, a 75 mm armor-piercing shell blasted from the muzzle, hurtling towards a Polish Renault tank. The shell struck true, and the tank erupted into flames almost instantaneously.
"My God! Reverse, now! Another tank has us in its sights!" Andre yelled, spotting another enemy tank lining up their Leopard in its crosshairs. "Fire at will! Don't wait for orders!" Ren barked, the urgency clear in his voice.
The Leopard tank's cannon roared again, sending another shell slicing through the air. This time, the enemy tank was hit squarely, disintegrating into a heap of twisted metal. Inside the tank, Ryan gripped the armrest tightly, a grin breaking across his face as he lauded, "Well done, Andre! That's two tanks down!"
---
The scene shifted dramatically to the opulent setting of a grand banquet hall, where the air was filled with the melodious strains of classical music. Men in elegant attire mingled with ladies, glasses of red wine and champagne in hand, engaging in light, polite conversation. This was the birthday celebration of the head of state, a stark contrast to the battlefield, exuding peace and warmth. The soothing sounds of a cello complemented the aromatic waft of gourmet dishes, creating an almost surreal atmosphere for a nation at war with several global powers.
"The head of state has arrived!" announced an attendant at the door, prompting all heads to turn towards the entrance. Akado, the leader in question, entered the hall with a confident smile, Mercedes on his arm. The sight of Akado prompted everyone, from the high-ranking Junker nobles to the powerful industrial magnates and military officials, to snap to attention. They performed the customary salute, their right arms raised at a 45-degree angle, heels clicking together sharply.
"Long live the head of state! Long live Greater Germany!" the crowd cheered in unison. Akado gestured for them to relax their salutes, his smile broadening as he addressed the gathering. "Welcome to my birthday celebration. I know these are lavish times, but thanks to Mr. Bos's generosity in funding this gathering, I'm here enjoying the feast with all of you," he said, his voice carrying easily over the laughter that followed his remarks.
"Let's make sure we all have a splendid time tonight! There's no work or duties to worry about—just enjoy and let loose!" Mercedes chimed in, her stunning black evening gown drawing admiring glances. Her suggestion was met with enthusiastic toasts from the assembly.
---
Back on the battlefield, the situation was growing increasingly dire. "Bruce, hurry! We're up to the seventh vehicle!" Andre's voice crackled through the radio, his tone a mix of exhilaration and urgency. "I can barely see through the smoke from the burning debris."
"Tank 124 has been hit! It's hit!" came the distorted voice of Company Commander Carter through the headset, panic evident in his tone. "Can anyone see our tank? It's smoking badly."
The Leopard tank fired once more, but this round only kicked up a cloud of black earth as it struck the ground. The smoke from the destroyed Polish tanks was thickening, obscuring vision and reducing the effectiveness of the German tank crews.
"Cover tank 124! Rennes, Marcus, advance 200 meters and establish a new defensive line!" Carter's commands filtered through amidst the chaos.
"Why aren't the Polish retreating? They've lost dozens of tanks already," Marcus muttered, the strain clear in his voice as the German panther tanks maintained their superior position despite being surrounded on three sides by Polish forces.
"Left side, Andre! Polish tank to the left!" Ren shouted, tapping Andre's shoulder urgently. "Bauman, move forward slowly! We need to advance our defense. Our comrades need our cover."
"And we need covering too!" Bruce retorted loudly, his frustration palpable amidst the escalating risk. "Are we just supposed to move forward and become sitting ducks?"
"Bruce, enough! Clark, keep an eye on the infantry behind those tanks. We can't afford to engage them directly—it's all on you," Andre commanded, refocusing on his targeting.
"Where are they getting all these tanks from?" Clark wondered aloud, his machine gun rattling as he spoke. "Ammo's almost out. I've got only two drums left, Rennes!"
As the battle raged on, the landscape was marred by the wreckage of Polish tanks and the bodies of soldiers. The German tank crews, though fatigued and tested to their limits, maintained their positions and readiness amidst the relentless assault.
---
Back at the banquet, the mood was light and celebratory. Mercedes raised her glass to Mr. Bos, expressing her gratitude for organizing the event, which she deemed crucial for mending and fostering relationships between the state's leadership and its influential figures. "Thank you for supporting my husband. With your backing, he can achieve more, and so can Germany," she said, her cheeks tinged with a hint of color.
"Absolutely, Miss Mercedes. As long as it benefits Germany, we're all in. We'll support the head of state to the very end," Krupp interjected, his tone resolute.
The conversation shifted to military advancements, with Mercedes inquiring about the progress on the Tiger tank. "The head of state is eagerly awaiting your designs. Weapon development is crucial, especially now," she pressed.
Krupp, feeling the competitive pressure from Mercedes-Benz's prominence in military contracts, assured her of their cooperation. "We'll make sure to produce whatever the state needs," he stated, trying to mask his concern over his factory's relegated role.
Mercedes then mentioned the popularity of Krupp's new ultra-light 150mm howitzer, subtly steering the conversation towards the contributions of her own company's advancements in armament technology.
---
Back on the battlefield, the intensity of combat continued unabated. "Armor-piercing shell, ready! Target at 11 o'clock!" Rennes commanded, his voice cutting through the din as the Leopard tank's cannon aligned with the enemy.
The tank's gun roared, and the shell found its mark, halting the advance of the last Polish tank, which came to a stop, disabled but not destroyed. As the dust settled and the enemy's assault waned, the battlefield fell eerily silent, the Polish forces finally retreating after sustaining heavy losses.
"They've retreated," Ryan murmured, a mix of relief and exhaustion in his voice as he slumped back in his seat, wiping sweat from his brow. Bruce collapsed onto an empty ammunition rack, too spent to speak. Andre remained silent, his eyes not leaving the sight of his gun, the tension slowly ebbing away as the realization of their survival sank in. The crew sat in a heavy silence, the only sound that of their labored breathing and the distant echoes of a battle that had moved on, leaving them amidst the wreckage and the dead.