The faint glow of dawn began to creep over the horizon, casting long shadows across the snow-covered battlefield. The narrow pass where Juri Stalin and his crew were stationed was eerily still, the kind of stillness that heralded something terrible on the wind.
Inside the T-95, Juri sat at the controls, his gaze fixed on the empty field ahead. The tank's interior was dimly lit, the cramped space filled with the faint hum of the engine and the occasional clink of Viktor adjusting his periscope.
"Anything yet?" Juri asked, his voice calm but taut with tension.
"Just the horizon," Viktor replied. He turned a dial on the periscope, adjusting the focus. "Wait. No, scratch that—I've got movement."
Juri's grip tightened on the controls. "What do you see?"
Viktor's voice dropped slightly, laced with unease. "Tanks. At least a dozen. No… more. Looks like light armor in the front, but there are some heavies rolling in behind them."
"And their infantry?"
"They're there, too. Spread out, but sticking close enough to support their tanks. Smart."
Juri nodded, his mind already working. He glanced at the fuel gauge—just under half now, thanks to the poor-quality gas they'd pumped at the station. It was enough to keep the T-95 moving, but not enough to waste on unnecessary maneuvers.
"They're coming into range," Viktor said, his voice tightening. "Looks like… that's the commander's tank near the center. A Panzer III. He's hanging back, letting the front line lead the way."
"Typical," Juri muttered.
Behind the T-95, Lieutenant Colonel Volkov and his squadron crouched behind the jagged rocks that lined the pass. They had dug in as best they could, their rifles and machine guns trained on the horizon. The soldiers looked tense but focused, their faces grim as they waited for the inevitable clash.
Viktor's voice broke the silence. "What's the plan, Juri?"
Juri took a deep breath, his mind racing through the options. Their tank's armor was incomplete, and their fuel reserves were fragile. But they still had one advantage: firepower.
"We have the range," Juri said finally. "We use it. Pavel, load the turret—start with the experimental shell."
From his seat in the loader's position, Pavel grunted in acknowledgment. He grabbed one of the larger shells from its compartment, its surface marked with crude etchings indicating Juri's experimental modifications. With practiced efficiency, he slid it into the breech and locked it in place.
"Ready to fire," Pavel called out.
"Viktor, target their commander's tank," Juri ordered.
Viktor adjusted the turret, his hands moving quickly over the controls. "Got him in sight. You want me to send him a message?"
"No message," Juri said coldly. "Take him out."
The T-95's turret groaned as it turned, the massive barrel aligning itself with the Panzer III. Viktor adjusted the elevation, his eye glued to the periscope's sight. The German tanks were still advancing, their formation tight, but they hadn't yet realized they were being watched.
"Fire," Juri said.
The tank shuddered as the experimental shell roared out of the barrel, a streak of fire and steel that tore through the air with a deafening crack.
The shell hit its mark with devastating precision. The Panzer III exploded in a fiery blast, its turret flipping skyward as the tank's hull crumpled under the force of the impact. Black smoke billowed into the sky, and the advancing German formation faltered as chaos rippled through their ranks.
Volkov's squadron let out a collective cheer, their morale briefly bolstered by the display of raw power.
"Direct hit!" Viktor crowed, his usual sarcasm replaced by genuine excitement.
"Reload," Juri barked, his voice cutting through the noise.
Pavel was already moving, grabbing the next shell and slamming it into place. "Loaded!"
"Target their heavies," Juri said. "Keep them off-balance."
The T-95 fired again, the recoil rocking the tank as another shell streaked across the battlefield. This time, the target was a heavier tank—a German A7V, a relic from the Great War that had been repurposed for this blitz. The shell hit just below the turret, igniting its ammunition stores. The resulting explosion sent debris flying in all directions, taking out two nearby infantrymen who had been advancing alongside it.
"Another one down," Viktor called, his voice tight with focus.
The Germans were scrambling now. Their front-line tanks veered off course, some attempting to push forward while others tried to retreat. Infantry scattered for cover, their cohesion breaking under the sudden assault.
"Pavel, how many shells left?" Juri asked.
"Eight," Pavel replied, his hands already loading the next one.
"Make them count," Juri said.
Down by the rocks, Volkov and his squadron took cover as the Germans returned fire. Machine gun fire peppered the rocky terrain, and one of the lighter German tanks let off a shell that exploded against a nearby boulder, sending shards of stone flying.
"Stay down!" Volkov shouted, waving his men to spread out. "Pick your targets carefully. Don't waste ammo!"
One of the soldiers popped up from behind cover, aiming his rifle at an approaching infantryman. He fired, and the German dropped, his weapon clattering to the ground.
"Volkov!" Juri's voice crackled over the chaos, amplified slightly by the tank's internal comms system. "Keep them off us—we need time to reload!"
"Working on it!" Volkov shouted back, firing his own weapon at a German soldier trying to flank the pass.
Inside the tank, Viktor adjusted the turret again, lining up the next shot. "I've got another heavy in my sights," he said.
"Fire," Juri ordered.
The shell hit true, ripping through the side of the target. The German tank's armor crumpled like paper, and its engine erupted in flames.
"Three down," Viktor said, his voice grim. "But they're not stopping."
Juri could see that for himself. The Germans were regrouping, their infantry rushing to fill the gaps left by their destroyed tanks. Another wave of light armor was pushing forward, supported by a line of machine gunners who were setting up positions just beyond the pass.
"They're trying to pin us down," Juri said. "We can't let them. Viktor, focus on the machine gunners. Pavel, reload faster."
"I'm not a magician," Pavel grumbled, though he grabbed another shell and shoved it into the breech.
The tank fired again, this time targeting the clustered machine gunners. The shell exploded on impact, sending bodies and equipment flying. The survivors scrambled for cover, their advance momentarily halted.
"Six shells left!" Pavel called out.
Juri's mind raced. They'd done significant damage, but the Germans still had the numbers to overwhelm them if they didn't keep up the pressure. The T-95 was holding its own for now, but its crude armor wouldn't withstand a direct hit from one of the remaining enemy heavies.
"Volkov!" Juri shouted.
The lieutenant colonel glanced up from his position behind the rocks. "What?"
"They're going to push again. Be ready to cover our flanks!"
Volkov nodded, signaling to his men to reposition. The soldiers moved quickly, spreading out to cover the pass from multiple angles.
The Germans made their next move with calculated aggression. A trio of light tanks surged forward, their guns blazing as they closed the gap. Behind them, the remaining infantry advanced in staggered formation, using the tanks as cover.
"Here they come," Viktor said, adjusting the turret.
Juri narrowed his eyes. "Take out the lead tank. Break their momentum."
The T-95 fired, the shell slamming into the lead tank's engine compartment. The vehicle exploded in a shower of sparks and flames, forcing the two tanks behind it to swerve to avoid the wreckage.
"Reload!" Juri barked.
Pavel worked as quickly as his hands would allow, the shell sliding into the breech just as Viktor adjusted the turret again.
"Second tank, ten o'clock!" Viktor called out.
"Fire!"
The second tank went up in flames, its turret popping off like a cork as its ammunition ignited.
The third tank hesitated, its driver trying to reverse, but it was too late. The T-95's next shot obliterated it, leaving a smoking crater where it had stood.
"Three shells left!" Pavel shouted, sweat dripping down his face despite the cold.
Juri exhaled slowly, his heart pounding. The battlefield was littered with the wreckage of German armor and the bodies of fallen soldiers, but the enemy still pressed forward.
The distant sound of engines roared louder, and Juri's blood ran cold. Another wave was coming.
"They're not stopping," Viktor muttered.
"No," Juri said, his voice low but resolute. "But neither are we."
The sun was rising now, casting a pale light over the battlefield. The Germans were regrouping, their movements more cautious but no less determined. The T-95 sat in the center of the pass like a sentinel, its barrel smoking from the furious pace of its assault.
Inside, Juri adjusted his grip on the controls, his jaw set. "Pavel, reload. Viktor, keep an eye out for their next move."
"And what about you?" Viktor asked, his tone half-joking.
Juri's eyes stayed fixed on the battlefield. "I drive."
The next wave was coming, and the T-95 would meet it head-on.