fighters and bombers added their rubble to the fields below as they whirled and dived, twisting in a danse macabre. The sky darkened from the smoke of burning tanks and the smoke hung low over the fields, masking whole sections of the front until the only way to tell who your opponent was, was to smash into him close enough to see the faces of the commanders in their turrets frantically trying to kill you.
Crews able to escape their burning vehicles hid in the ditches and trenches trying to bury themselves in the earth. Most became part of it when the treads of an assaulting or retreating tank mashed them into jellied pulp. As often as not the tank was one of their own.
Langer's battalion was assaulting from the western flank and penetrated the Soviets from the side. The Panthers did deadly work as they raced into the confused mass of milling steel monsters until they too were lost in the maelstrom and each fought separate and alone. Burning Tigers littered the ground. The range at which they fought was so short that even the lesser guns of the T-34s ripped them apart.
Yuri, standing at the side of the Panther, hurled grenades at Russian crews hiding in shell holes while the rapid high-speed chatter of the machine guns swept everything in front of them.
Langer's Panther slid out of control down a gully, only to be stopped by smashing into a T-34 with a broken tread. Neither one could turn its cannon to fire on the other. Yuri screamed like a banshee and leapt on the turret of the Russian, beating at the closed hatch with egg grenades, uselessly. Gus frantically worked the controls trying to back away far enough for Teacher to put a round into Ivan but just dug them in deeper. Langer yelled for Manny to hand him up a shell and taking it, jumped from his turret to that of the Russians. He placed the round under the overhang at the rear of the turret and taking a grenade from Yuri, he set it by the shell and pulled the pin, throwing himself and Yuri off to land behind the Russian. The grenade set off the 75 mm and blew the turret clear from the T-34. Amazingly only the commander was killed in the explosion. The rest of the crew sat at their positions stunned, blood pouring from nostrils and ears. Yuri. screamed with joy and threw himself into the interior slashing throats with the long-bladed butcher knife Langer had given him the previous day. He killed them all and rose from the hull dripping blood and smiling.
Holding a Russian's severed head in each hand by the hair and showing them proudly to Langer, he said, "Yuri good Germanski, nyet?"
Langer rose, still somewhat stunned from the explosion, and told Yuri to throw them back. They didn't have time for souvenirs. Disappointed, Yuri spat in each of the faces and tossed the heads back into the hull with the bodies they had come from. The Russian medics could match them up later.
Gus finally got enough distance from the T-34 to be able to pull back and get enough of a run to break out of the ditch his own treads had created. Lurching, the Panther clambered out of the gully as Langer and Yuri leaped back on and climbed inside in time to see a MIG smash into the earth and explode not seventy meters in front of them.
Overhead the killer – a Gustav ME-109 wheeled off after a twin-engine bomber. Time lost all meaning. Minutes became hours. Hours seemed like eternity. Everything was exaggerated – the sounds, colors, tastes. The smell of cordite and burning fuel oil clogged their nostrils. The battle was winding down. In an area of less than ten square miles, each side had lost over three hundred tanks. Romistrov ordered his survivors to withdraw, racing to the rear, the turrets still facing the Germans and firing. The survivors ran, leaving the field of slaughter to the Germans. As Langer followed in pursuit, his tank seemed to rise up into the air and then fall back. The crashing of his tank was covered by the explosion of the Russian shell that had blown the treads off.
Crews able to escape their burning vehicles hid in the ditches and trenches trying to bury themselves in the earth. Most became part of it when the treads of an assaulting or retreating tank mashed them into jellied pulp. As often as not the tank was one of their own.
Langer's battalion was assaulting from the western flank and penetrated the Soviets from the side. The Panthers did deadly work as they raced into the confused mass of milling steel monsters until they too were lost in the maelstrom and each fought separate and alone. Burning Tigers littered the ground. The range at which they fought was so short that even the lesser guns of the T-34s ripped them apart.
Yuri, standing at the side of the Panther, hurled grenades at Russian crews hiding in shell holes while the rapid high-speed chatter of the machine guns swept everything in front of them.
Langer's Panther slid out of control down a gully, only to be stopped by smashing into a T-34 with a broken tread. Neither one could turn its cannon to fire on the other. Yuri screamed like a banshee and leapt on the turret of the Russian, beating at the closed hatch with egg grenades, uselessly. Gus frantically worked the controls trying to back away far enough for Teacher to put a round into Ivan but just dug them in deeper. Langer yelled for Manny to hand him up a shell and taking it, jumped from his turret to that of the Russians. He placed the round under the overhang at the rear of the turret and taking a grenade from Yuri, he set it by the shell and pulled the pin, throwing himself and Yuri off to land behind the Russian. The grenade set off the 75 mm and blew the turret clear from the T-34. Amazingly only the commander was killed in the explosion. The rest of the crew sat at their positions stunned, blood pouring from nostrils and ears. Yuri. screamed with joy and threw himself into the interior slashing throats with the long-bladed butcher knife Langer had given him the previous day. He killed them all and rose from the hull dripping blood and smiling.
Holding a Russian's severed head in each hand by the hair and showing them proudly to Langer, he said, "Yuri good Germanski, nyet?"
Langer rose, still somewhat stunned from the explosion, and told Yuri to throw them back. They didn't have time for souvenirs. Disappointed, Yuri spat in each of the faces and tossed the heads back into the hull with the bodies they had come from. The Russian medics could match them up later.
Gus finally got enough distance from the T-34 to be able to pull back and get enough of a run to break out of the ditch his own treads had created. Lurching, the Panther clambered out of the gully as Langer and Yuri leaped back on and climbed inside in time to see a MIG smash into the earth and explode not seventy meters in front of them.
Overhead the killer – a Gustav ME-109 wheeled off after a twin-engine bomber. Time lost all meaning. Minutes became hours. Hours seemed like eternity. Everything was exaggerated – the sounds, colors, tastes. The smell of cordite and burning fuel oil clogged their nostrils. The battle was winding down. In an area of less than ten square miles, each side had lost over three hundred tanks. Romistrov ordered his survivors to withdraw, racing to the rear, the turrets still facing the Germans and firing. The survivors ran, leaving the field of slaughter to the Germans. As Langer followed in pursuit, his tank seemed to rise up into the air and then fall back. The crashing of his tank was covered by the explosion of the Russian shell that had blown the treads off.
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