Heinrich505

Sgt. Squarehead, Yeah, me either but I thought I would try to include some verbal "colour," so to speak, to make sure the readers knew the tankers were Brits. My heart sank when I saw that frigging Tiger emerge from the smoke screen the second time. Intel said there was no enemy armor to speak of. Bah, they were wrong. I was sure I was going to have 7 smoking wrecks in a few minute's time. I already had one that was burning -Thomson's tank - and that was a single shot by the Tiger. Glad you liked it. Heinrich505

Fighting around Prummern, November 20, 1944 The weather is beastly as the troops begin to advance. It is cold and wet and foggy, and of course, it is raining. Visibility is bad. Everything is bad. Being in Germany is bad, and especially being around Prummern right now is very bad. Mahogany Hill my a$$, mutters Major Semken to himself. He has A Squadron of Sherwood Rangers Yeomanry armor split across the front, both east and west of the road leading to Beeck. Sherman V tanks with 75mm cannon – not good. Not good at all. They won’t be able to open up the Jerry heavies with those, he reflects quietly. Only two Fireflies among the lot of ‘em. It will have to do. The radio crackles to life. Sound contacts dead ahead. The American scouts are reporting a very loud enemy vehicle, probably a tank. Any idea of what type? he asks. No, just very loud. Well, that’s helpful. Americans! He sighs with annoyance. Leftenant Colonel Vidal calls to Semken, tank-to-tank. He advises that Semken should begin bringing up his Troop 1. Why the Leftenant Colonel would want to still be in a tank is beyond Semken’s thinking. Semken has his radioman pull up the armor net. “Troop 1, Troop 1, report of vehicle activity on the right flank. All units east of the road move forward cautiously. And for God’s sake, nobody bog!!!” Semken adds that last as a warning and admonishment, all in one. The rain is relentless and has turned the ground into mush. The drivers are going to have to be extra vigilant. Semken’s Sherman moves smoothly ahead, the driver leaving it in low gear and gently easing the tank through the patches of mire. Moments later, out of the left vision ports he sees a Sherman skid to the right, then throw rooster tails of muck, and finally pieces of track. The tank turns its turret to the left to cover the advance. It is done. “Bloody Hell,” we are one down now!” he exclaims. “Cathcart’s out of the game.” Cathcart is assigned to the Yeomanry HQ and reports directly to the Lieutenant Colonel, so no one says anything on the air. “E ‘as a new drivah,” shouts Melrose, Semken’s loader, over the roar of the engine. “Met ‘im meself two days ago. Good sort, but greener than green.” Well, that explains the bog, Semken says to himself. “Watch out for the contact, Lads.” Semken doesn’t say tank but that is exactly what his crew is looking for. Anything less than a tank and they can all breathe a little easier. The radio lights up again. It is the Leftenant Colonel on tank-to-tank. “I say, Majah, the American’s are all riled up. Say it’s a Tiger, for Heaven’s sake. What dya say to that, eh? More “Tiger Fright?” “Can’t see anything yet through the bloody fog and rain,” is Semken’s reply. “If it is any sort of tank, we’ll be at ‘em with bloody knives. Visibility might be 400 meters.” “Roger that…carry on.” At this moment a blurry shape emerges from the near tree line. Semken’s tanks are spaced out and in an irregular line, so not everyone sees the shape clearly. It has squared lines but the fog is playing games with any sort of accurate identification. Major Thomson’s radio operator makes a single transmission as a frightful flash lights up the fog around the enemy contact. “We’re Buggered” is all he gets out. Semken sees the flash of Thomson’s cannon in his peripheral vision and then suddenly a terrible fire envelops Thomson’s tank. The horrible crump of metal on metal is heard and the ensuing explosion gently rocks Semken’s tank. “Bloody Hell!” gasps Semken. “What was that?” asks the gunner, eyes glued to the gunsight and straining to get a target. Semken recovers his composure and announces quietly over the intercom that Thomson’s tank is for it. He tells them that three got out. He doesn’t tell them that they had to climb out of a flaming tank. They’ve been burned for sure. Last he saw through the aft vision portals the three of them were running back to the rear. He couldn’t tell how badly they were burned. He doesn’t want to know. “Skipper, ‘es backing up. Popped smoke and ‘es backing up into it. Can’t get a good line. Not sure what it was. Maybe a 4?” The gunner’s voice tone is hopeful. If it is the German Mark IV, then they’ve got a good chance to open it up with their 75mm gun. If it is a Tiger…all the hope in the world won’t help. Smoke is billowing around the trees now. The enemy tank, whatever it was, backed up into the trees and the smoke. It was a hit and run. Semken now has one tank immobilized and one tank burning. Not an auspicious start, for sure. “Keep moving forward,” he orders over the radio. “Someone tell me what the hell that tank is.” His transmission is met with silence. Sgt. Erickson’s 3rd squad hears the noise of the German tank engine revving up again. They saw the tank stride through the tree line, stop, and then fire at something to the rear…and hit it. The tank also machine-gunned the squads to their right. Then it dusted smoke and backed away, like a frigging wraith, some sort of vengeful ghost. He knows his squad of new guys are swallowing hard and thinking about bugging out to the rear. He is sure it is a Tiger. Every tank they see is a frigging Tiger. Better to report the worst because then the officers will send proper support, like something that can take out a Tiger or anything less than one. “It’s coming back,” shouts Erickson. “Hey, Bazooka Joe, get ready pal, cause you are about to be the hero.” Joe’s mouth is dry and he has a death grip on the bazooka. He knows he is about to die. He tries to call out to the Sergeant that the damn Tiger tank will be too far away for his bazooka. His mouth is so dry he can only croak out some sounds that don’t resemble words. Then the tank bulls through the trees and into view again. All eyes are on Joe. The tank really is a Tiger. The initial reports were actually correct this time. “Tiger Fright” is justified for a change. [The enemy Tiger can just be seen emerging from the smokescreen, directly in front of Thomsen's burning tank] Semken’s gunner now shouts, “Tiger, Tiger, 12 o’clock, dead ahead! E’s about 350 for range!” Semken can see the blocky shape of a Tiger, which has pulled right through the smoke and is now hunting them once more. A bloody knife fight, he mutters. “Gunner, you may fire when ready,” he announces, trying to stay calm. Other tanks nearby must have gotten the sighting before them. He hears other tank guns go off just before his own tank roars in anger. “It bounced!” the gunner announces. No surprise there, thinks Semken. They’ve nothing better than AP rounds and they’ll be bouncing off the front armor of that frigging beast all day long. “C’mon, Kevin,” he says, almost as a prayer. Corporal Kevin Ward runs his tank like an old man-o-war from the Royal Navy. Fore and aft, starboard and larboard. Just like a ship. His crew bought in and wouldn’t have it any other way. His crew and he have demonstrated such skill that he was assigned the only Firefly in Troop 1. He’s just a corporal, but he has the most powerful gun they have going, and not one of the other crews complained when he was given that tank. They know that they’ll eventually come up against something that they can’t kill, so they want the best killer in the Troop to have the only gun that will save them all. “Skipper, it’s a Tiger all roight,” sings out their gunner. “FIRE!” screams Ward over the intercom. Everyone’s ears start ringing, before the gun speaks and smoke gusts into the interior. They were still moving slowly when the gun fired, as the driver hadn’t had time to stop the tank. The shot misses. “High, way high! Stop the bloody tank, you sot,” screams Ward at the driver. Benny is already locking up the brakes and the tank squashes heavily to a stop in the mud. Ward hears the clang of a spent shell casing hitting the turret bottom and the familiar slam of the breech as another shell is slammed home. Maybe five seconds, thinks Ward – damn good. Ward hears the guns outside of his tank roaring as every tank in the troop is now firing. “Skipper, corrections, permiss…” “FIRE!” roars Kevin again. The gun roars, sending another 76mm cannon shell downrange. Major Semken has been watching shell after shell bouncing off the Tiger. The enemy tank had turned its turret away from his tank, but now it is turning the turret back. [This ricochet is from dead center between the machine gun and the headlight where the gouge is] “Skipper, ‘es churning up the mud,” reports the radio operator. “I think e’s bogged right up.” Before Semken can reply, his gunner fires again. The gunner and loader are on total autopilot now, and the only way he could distract them would be to physically grab them. “Ohhh, Damn, bounced again,” mutters the gunner. “Skipper, HIT!” calls out Ward’s gunner. “Pour it on,” he retorts. Ward sees several more ricochets from other tanks but their next shot is another good hit. “I think that gored ‘im,” calls the gunner. “MORE!” shouts Ward. Their gun roars again. [The kill shot] [Another shell can be seen racing towards the tank as the crew bails] “Flames! ‘E’s brewing up!” shouts the driver. There is a collective roar from the crew and Semken sags in his seat, allowing himself a moment to collect his thoughts. Thank-you Kevin Ward he whispers as his crew slaps each other on their backs. “Skipper, E’s burning!” reports Ward’s gunner. “Their crew is bailing out.” “Machine gun them!” shouts Ward. “They are specialists. Kill ‘em or they’ll just get another bloody Tiger.” The machine guns start pounding rounds at the two enemy tankers who dash around their tank for cover and then run for the tree line. “Three cheers for the Skipper!” shouts the driver. “Huzzah, Huzzah, Huzzah!” [Several hits below the tracks on the right side are not visible in this shot] Major Semken’s driver quietly remarks to no one in particular, that he thinks he counted 17 hits on the Tiger. With grim realization the Major sees that the only kill shots were on the Tiger's flank. “Semken’s tank-to-tank radio comes alive again. It is Leftenant Colonel Vidal. “I say, Majah, damn good gunnery. That got ‘im…right up a treat. Give the lads a hearty well done. Then have them move out. We are behind schedule. Carry on.” Semken shakes his head at this. He looks up and sees the face of his driver, looking expectantly at him. Damn, he looks so young, thinks the Major. “Slow, if you please…and don’t bog,” he says. The driver turns with a smile on his face and starts to let out the clutch. The war goes on… Heinrich505

Artkin, Does your guest find the CV90 easy to steer and maneuver? From the videos it seems like the vehicle is very nimble. Does the vehicle bog or handle messy (snow and mud) terrain well? The tracks don't look especially wide. What sort of career path does she have? From driver, would she move up to gunner and eventually commander? Heinrich505

Splinty, Thanks. Really glad you enjoyed it. Don't know if you saw my long AAR story on the CMFB site. Sadly it has fallen to page two but you'd get a kick out of that one as well. Yeah, shameless plug, haha. Heinrich505

Bulletpoint, Very interesting twist. I like it. Heinrich505

Bud, Thanks for the nice comments. Always appreciated. I love catching all the little details the game has to offer. Heinrich505

An Assault, somewhere in Lithuania. Kolya lies in the high grass. He is barely breathing. Shells and explosions are going off everywhere. A nearby tank is belching smoke and fire. The Facisti are defending some village that has no meaning to anyone except some big boss in a safe headquarters far from all this smoke, fire, and death. His head hurts – the bandage feels awkward and the right side of his face is swollen and crusted with dried blood. He was grazed by a bullet several days ago. The wound wasn’t bad enough to send him to an aid station. He had half his head wrapped in bandages by that clumsy oaf Bodenkin, who pretends to be a medic but is actually a veterinarian. The waiting feels like a huge animal, crushing him into the dirt. He has to fight to breathe. Someone said they are in Lithuania now, but he has no idea where that might be. Far from his little village, that’s for sure. Kolya is sure the assault will start soon. The waiting, the horrible anticipation…it is almost too much to bear. Off to the right, Senior Sergeant Sirovski shouts…the signal to attack. Instinctively he leaps to his feet and begins to charge into the smoke. He hears the roar of his fellow squad mates, some screaming “Uraaah, Uraaah!” He does not yell. He is silent. He doesn’t want to attract any more attention to himself than necessary. How he ended up leading the charge is a mystery. He suddenly realizes that he and the others are blindly charging towards unknown enemy positions. There was no time for any briefing and besides that, the Senior Sergeant doesn’t waste time on words or instructions. He just yells and points and then everyone runs, screaming, usually into sudden death, if lucky. Kolya makes it into the shade of the trees. It is almost dark to his eyes, sensitized to the glare of the sun. The blazing sun is blotted out and the oppressive heat is replaced by shade that drops the temperature by many degrees. It feels pleasant, but Kolya knows it will be momentary. His uniform is soaked with sweat and he can feel the blood in his head pounding so loudly against his wound that it is making it hard to hear. He cuts to the right on a small road and sees a little house through a break in the trees. Several of his fellow soldiers are right behind him, panting loudly from all that yelling earlier. He is passed by Pyotr as they emerge from the shade. He is momentarily blinded by the glare. Pyotr is such an ass-kisser, the sergeant’s favorite. No doubt he is trying to be the fastest in the assault to impress Sergeant Sirovski. To Kolya’s left, he sees Motya has peeled off and is making a more direct charge through the yard. Motion to his right tells him more soldiers are charging along with him. A blizzard of enemy bullets whips past Kolya. Pyotr makes an odd sound, like he’s been punched in the gut, but Kolya sees the fine blood spray from Pyotr’s back – the man goes down hard. Kolya is suddenly aware that if he had been leading the charge, the bullets would have ripped into him. What a way to impress the Sergeant, thinks Kolya, as he leaps over Pyotr’s body. Kolya has squared off the distance, preferring to run around the fence, but he sees Motya has taken the more direct approach and will make the house before he does. Motya must have crashed right through the fence, but Kolya didn’t hear it as the blood is pounding too hard in his head. More rounds rip past Kolya. His luck is holding out but he is using a lot of it up on this one attack. He figures he will run out soon, and he hopes he dies quickly, not thrashing around in the dirt like Mishka, three days ago, screaming as blood sprayed out of every wound in his chest. Or, Grigori dumbly trying to stuff his intestines back into his gut after a piece of shrapnel tore him open. He keeps running but he is gripping his machine gun tighter. Motya passes him up in the charge. A sudden burst of gunfire rips into Motya. He manages a gargled scream as he topples backward. I’m in the lead again, thinks Kolya. Just great! I’ll be the next to die. And there he is! Kolya now sees the German, close up. The man is not firing and Kolya can see why. The German is reloading his weapon. It is a race to death now. One of them will not make it. His magazine is out now. The German is quick. Instead of trying to stop, Kolya uses his momentum and throws himself forward, landing on his stomach. Everything he does now is by rote. Muscle memory kicks in and Kolya opens fire, his rounds tearing into the chest of the German just as he finished loading his weapon and was about to bring it to bear on Kolya. The German falls backward without making a sound. For a moment, everything is hushed. Kolya still can’t hear over the blood pumping through his head and making his wound throb painfully. He is aware that he has been holding his breath for a while now. Adrenaline and fear have caused him to focus only on the deadly threat directly in front of him. Now that the German lies still, barely 2 meters away, his senses start to widen and he sees movement to his left, a shadow rising up, as if reaching towards him. Another German!!! He twists and cuts loose with a frenzied burst from his machine gun. Instinct shooting, nothing more. Just point and spray and hope. This German dies more horribly than the other. Lots of screaming and thrashing. Kolya keeps the trigger depressed and hears the click as the magazine empties. He is not even aware that he has yanked the empty magazine from his weapon and has pulled a new one from his mag pouch. He is operating like a well-oiled machine. The full magazine is slammed home, the bolt dropped. For a moment he thinks about the man whose boots are just ahead of him, now still. Kolya knows he would be dead or worse if the German had not run out of rounds when he did. Death was just seconds away. Kolya lies silent against the side of the building. His hearing is starting to come back to him now, adrenaline slowing, his blood not pounding through his skull. He wonders how many others from his squad were killed or wounded. Where is the good Sergeant? Has the charge succeeded or failed? Is he alone and the others dead or running back to safety? Well, no matter for now. The earth feels warm against his body, the sun against his face. He is still breathing and sweating. More than can be said for many of his fellow soldiers. He is hungry too. Maybe the dead German has some food on him. He will check in a few minutes, maybe. Better to lie here for a little while longer and enjoy being alive. The war goes on… Heinrich505

Bil, I agree with you and the others for coordination via the tank phones on the back of the tanks, meaning your liaison will have to be right next to the tank or behind it. (Have seen Sgt. Saunders use tank phones lots in episodes of COMBAT, so it must be realistic......kidding of course...you see the Marines doing this quite a lot to coordinate tanks for the Island hopping campaigns in the Pacific) This will work great if the tanks stay close to the infantry and are used for close support. But, the liaison won't be able to keep up with the tanks if they are to drive forward a ways to seek out new/additional targets. Would you need to keep the tank that is being used to coordinate with the infantry out of the further maneuvering, having that one lag back while the other 4 tanks pushed ahead? If they all pulled ahead of the liaison HQ, would they then have to roll for initiative task changes as individual tank commanders or would they be subject to the Platoon Tank Commander for additional tasks? I don't mean to increase the complexity but that one HQ running behind an advancing tank will have a life expectancy of possibly 3 minutes. Yeesh. Anything that enhances this amazing game is all good by me. Heinrich505

Pete, I just dusted through some of that amazing collection of stuff you put together for that potential HASL. Got all misty-eyed imagining how cool it would have been pushing cardboard counters across the beach. There is a crazy amount of detail in those items, not to mention the scenarios you were putting together. It is a potential gold mine for use in this project. Heinrich505

Broadsword56, Bwahaha, you got that right. I loved that show. Melody Patterson as Wrangler Jane was a Babe!!! Oh, those tight buckskin pants of hers... Heinrich505

Mark, I'd love to have all the names when I'm telling stories in the AARs. As it is, I just give the other guys in the squads and crews names as the battle goes on, and then have to go back and change them if - but usually when - the senior guy is knocked off and the next guy is identified in the unit. I usually have the key players written down before I start, and then start adding names as the battle goes. It would be great if everyone was already named - less book-keeping for me, heh heh. I'm a big fan of George MC's identifying key figures and sometimes historical figures with asterisks by their names. Heinrich505

Bil, Am following this with interest. I didn't check out your more complex previous version. This one seems very smooth. Maybe I am getting ahead of things, but what happens if you lose an HQ? I have a tendency to keep my HQs close up to the squads and as such, they often suffer casualties or in worst case scenarios, they get whacked. Does the XO (if there is one) take over with penalties assessed? If you cover this as your battle goes on, then disregard. Thanks for your hard work on this. It looks great. Heinrich505

Bud, Thanks for the kind words. High praise indeed. Heinrich505

sburke, Thanks for the very nice review. Always appreciated. The scenario is really amazing. There were several times where I just wanted to bail and retreat the guys from those two forward roadblock areas. Then I had second thoughts because it appeared that I'd been bypassed and infiltrated and I thought that if the guys started running for the rear, they'd be ambushed and cut down. So, I had them stay put. This was a death sentence for the one roadblock group, but incredibly, the right choice for the other. At times I found myself just enjoying how well-made the map was. As I drove Pops and his engineers way deep into the right flank, everything looked so wintry and beautiful. I almost forgot that I was playing a game as I was enjoying the scenery so much. Thanks for the playtesting. This scenario really shined and deserved an AAR with a storyline. Not sure about what's next, haha. We shall see. Heinrich505

PanzerMike, This was no easy run, that's for sure. I knew the road and mud were going to be problems. I played it on Elite and managed a German Army Total Victory, but only because the US forces capitulated. There were about 2 minutes left on the clock and I was flooding into the Janssen Farm to take on the defenders there when the AI threw in the towel. Spoilers *** * * * I was trying to push hard with the Lynx detachment at first, but then encountered some determined resistance, lost one to what I found to be many Stuarts hiding on the right flank, and then pretty much waited for the Panthers. I did push a bit to the left flank and again found 37mm guns trying to dust my Lynx. Better to wait. When the Panthers arrived, I decided to split them up, two going straight up the road and most pushing to the right. I cut one away to run to the left and help the two Lynx there. That was a very good decision. Panthers to the right flank started to carve through the Stuarts hiding there. I used infantry riders to get close and then took all the touch objectives on the right flank. Panthers in the center carefully advanced up the road, with the infantry pretty much moving Quick in the road ditches. I was very worried about mines on the road so I had the infantry trying to locate them, running across the road from time to time. I still ended up with some good traffic jams and lost quite a few of the halftracks to immobilization. The Panther on the left helped get the objectives there, knocked out US resistance blocking the two roads on the left, and then I scouted up the road to the west of the Eeuwelse Loop, finding all sorts of mines and losing both. But, I took a chance and tried to ease the Panther through as well, and it made it. I guess this was kind of risky but it paid on in dividends later. The Panther hunted up the road towards Peelweg. Still moving slowly on the right, the Panthers then engaged in a long range duel with that freaking Jumbo. Damn that thing took hit after hit. I also pushed up the center and soon had the center Panthers engaging the Jumbo as well. This allowed me to move the right flank tanks further up and they eventually got just the right hit on the Jumbo, knocking it out. It did cost me a Panther, but that was the only one. I lost the one Panther, a Jagdpanzer, and three Lynx. But, I did lose many other vehicles to immobilization. That mud was vicious. There was a lot of steel being lobbed back and forth across long distances of the map, but the Panthers really shone in this one. They took a lot of hits and had optics and other things damaged, but they kept on getting the killing hits. On the left, the Panther with a green crew pushed up to Peelweg, finding flank shots on many of the US tanks and tank destroyers off to the left. On the right, the Panthers kept pushing, and in some instances I had them drive off the road to shorten distances and try to swing in on the left side of the crossroads at Jeucken Farm. Yes, they bogged a bit, but I kept them on short moves and stopped their movement if they bogged, then backing them up a little to unbog. Don't know if this was a tried and true technique, but it seemed to work most times, and I found it worked very well in CMx1. Or...I was just getting very lucky dice rolls. Knowing the Panthers had wide tracks and should be good in even somewhat muddy terrain, I took chances with this and it worked. I wouldn't have tried it with the JgPzIVs. This move also unnerved the defenders at Meijelseweg, as they were taking fire from their flank and front. Once they realized they were being flanked, they started to run and a great many of them were caught in the open and cut down. I'd say I had about 20 minutes left by this time. I'd pushed deep on the right flank, destroyed many of the tank destroyers on the left with the lone Panther, and the push through Meijelseweg was gaining momentum. I was hopeful that I would at least capture the crossroads, but taking anything further seemed a bit much, unless I was close enough that I get extra time. The troops were still running the road ditches quickly. The Luftwaffe made an appearance and helpfully ripped apart an already blown up M10, several times. I am sure the pilot claimed at least three different kills before he headed back to safety. At least he didn't blow up any of my tanks, which counted as a huge blessing, as that is usually what happens, haha. The push into the crossroads was heavy from the right and center. The Panther on the left started spotting outposts and began reducing them as well, so the crossroads defenders were being hit from the left, center, and right. A bazooka gunner took out one of the Lynx recon tanks, but he then got ripped by the accompanying Panther. His partner managed to run through a hail of gunfire and survived way up in the Rijt Farm area. I pounded everything at the crossroads, with the effect that the US boys broke and ran for safety. This was kind of sad, because they were ripped apart as they fled back towards the Janssen Farm through the flat muddy fields and there was little or no cover for them to disengage. That contributed greatly to the AI surrendering. Captain Baker was holed up at the Janssen Farm with a bazooka team, the spotter from his sniper team, and the tank crew of a blown M10 running out the back, facing 3 Panthers, one JagdPanther, a Lynx, and halftracks with infantry coming up the road fast. He had a mortar team way back in the Manders Farm and one rattled tank with its main armament knocked out. Under a white flag, he offered his 45 pistol to veteran UnterFeldwebel Schussel in a Jagdpanzer IV (A), while looking down the menacing barrel of a PaK 42 L/70 cannon and thus saved the lives of many of his men. This was a really good battle. You were actually fighting the map as well as the enemy. I know some of the posters wondered if the Green tank crews should lead. I didn't look at the crew composition when I directed them left, center, and right. Maybe I will next battle, but generally I don't, kind of like IanL. Thanks for all the hard work and effort you put into this scenario. It is greatly appreciated. The map felt very realistic, and the troop mix felt right. There are many challenges in this scenario, and you are offered the chance to do recon, take chances on terrain, and try to flank enemy strongpoints if you take some risks. Very nicely done. Heinrich505

PanzerMike, Is this one yours? What a blast. Heinrich505

Dragonwynn, Hey, no hurry. It is all good. Heinrich505

Dragonwynn, Yikes, so many to play and so little time. I'm still working on the CMRT Cross of Iron and Rattenkrieg gems you created, and I've yet to play the one with the US tank unit. And NOW...this. Geez. I'll snap this up too and try to find time, somewhere. Your efforts are greatly appreciated. Thanks for all the hard work. Do you have information on which of the commanders survived through the campaign? It would be interesting to see how our survivors compare to the real ones. Just curious. Heinrich505

Kuderian, Thanks for the kind words. Glad you enjoyed the shots. I take them from the game and then adjust them a little using Corel Paintshop Pro, depending on the effect desired. I used a variance of white balance all the way through to make the shots look "cold," as I wanted to push the frigid conditions the guys were experiencing. I like to enhance the vibrancy just a bit for the shots with explosions in them, and this works really well with backlighting when there is a burning AFV. Other than that, they are pretty much untouched. The borders are added once I get the shot cropped just right and zoomed in a bit. On some of the very early morning shots I had to bring up the brightness just a bit so that you could see a little better what the characters were seeing. As the battle went on, night started to turn lighter into early morning so I didn't have to adjust it anymore. Programs like the Corel one make doing this sort of thing look very nice, but first you have to do a lot of in-game freeze-frame to get just the right angle and catch the action as it happens. That can be tricky. Heinrich505

MarkEzra, I'm glad you liked it. High praise indeed. Thank-you very much. It was quite a battle. Sorry about Crazy Ed. Captain Easy almost bought it so many times - it was amazing he survived. Not sure what happened with the one picture. I was having trouble with the internet last night. I've attached the correct shot here. Heinrich505 View from the small farm across from the ammo dump. The MP guards are still in evidence.

Epilogue Captain Easy and the few survivors of TF Easy hold out in a forest area west of Wiltz. Daylight comes to Wiltz. German troops are still advancing warily. Early morning and the snow still falls among the carnage. The bridge is still in US hands. A dead enemy Sherman and a frozen body can be seen in the center right. Captain Dihardt’s position, overlooking the right flank road block area. Wrecked enemy vehicles can barely be seen on the road. A low-flying US recon aircraft catches a picture of the last stand of Crazy Ed’s left flank road block area. The burning tank is Sgt. Snider’s, and Red Bonze’s armored car can be seen in the center left of the shot, just to the left of the small island of trees in the middle. View from the small farm across from the ammo dump. The MP guards are still in evidence. Brooklyn and Hollywood, found by advancing US troops when Wiltz was cleared of Germans. The destroyed hulk of Edison’s tank is in the background. Taken by a German combat camera man who was later captured. The camera man sat atop the destroyed King Tiger to take the shot, showing evidence of the vicious fighting that took place on the main street through Wiltz. Bodies of both sides have not been removed yet, so this shot was taken during a lull at the battles end. Left Flank LT Crazy Ed was killed and most of his men are dead, wounded, or missing in action. It will be hours before the following US troops can retake Wiltz, so most of the wounded will perish in the cold. The only survivor from Crazy Ed’s command squad is TSgt. Roth, who, accompanied by Pvt. Heverly, a veteran from the only infantry squad of stragglers, managed to cross the entire battle map and attach themselves to the MPs guarding the ammo dump. Thinking they were safe there, they almost got killed when the German Hetzer roared into the dump, finally destroyed by an M8 that came to their rescue. Both being veteran soldiers, they are re-integrated into combat units despite their shaken mental status, as every body is needed to bolster up the front lines. Most of the bodies, including the AT gun team, are marked and recovered, due to the diligence of Captain Red Bonze, who drove through the Left Flank area in his armored car on his way back from his recon mission. Right Flank LT Wild Bill holds his blocking position until relieved by follow-up troops. Several key members of his unit perished in the bitter fighting. He doesn’t find out about his friend Crazy Ed until hours later. He is saddened by the news – they were close. Sgt. Richardson and Bazooka team Knight and Fuller were killed, but several of Richardson’s squad were patched up and managed to make it back to Wild Bill’s foxhole where they survived. No survivor saw Knight and Fuller’s heroics – they died in obscurity after destroying several German vehicles with their bazooka. Mad Mike, the gunner, had to take over the gun crew of the 40mm AA gun when Sgt. Shanley was wounded. He refused to relinquish the gunner seat though. His gun had only 5 HE and 15 AP shells left when relieved, which attests to the ferocity of the combat. Wild Bill tries to arrange a promotion to Sergeant for Mad Mike, but knowing he’d have to give up his gunner status, Mad Mike tells Wild Bill to “F^$% Off,” but respectfully. Wild Bill reflects on all the guys he lost. He tries to remember them all. Richardson and his team, including Knight, Fuller, Leonard, Tully and Smith, all dead. He saw the crazy Irishman, O’Leary get blown to bits. There may be others in the woods that bled out and he will never know them. Bridge Blocking Position LT Bull Shinisky seems to have drawn the longest matchstick in the battle. His command suffers relatively few casualties. He, too, hears of the death of Crazy Ed, and sits alone for a long time, remembering all the good times they shared. He doesn’t think he will get close to anyone else, because it hurts so badly when someone you know dies. LT Shinisky makes the rounds to check on the men. The AT gun crew and the outpost got hurt quite a bit. He doesn’t even know the names of the men involved, but he sends out men to search for the bodies or check on the wounded. The two machine gunners will not be found until months later, after the war by civilians. The gunner of the AT gun, Scott, was the one who gave the order to abandon their AT gun when they were about to be overrun. He spiked the gun himself and then fled back to a fallback position near the bridge. He had Burgess with him, one of the ammo bearers. Scott had to abandon Sgt. Roland when they fled their position, but he assured Roland he would come back for him. Roland was badly wounded and so was Nell, another gun crewman. After the battle, Scott made good his promise and returned for Roland and Nell. Roland was taken to the rear for his wounds, along with Nell. Roland always harbored ill feelings towards Scott, especially after being “abandoned” by him. He will tell others that Scott ran from the enemy, trying to disparage Scott’s name. Unfortunately for Roland, he has already made such a poor reputation for himself that everyone knows he is a dick and they shut him down. He wrangles an assignment in Intel to avoid going back to the front lines. Scott makes sure LT Shinisky knows what heroics were performed by the ammo bearer. Burgess patched up several of Roland’s crew and his fellow ammo bearers, and then fired off all his carbine rounds at the infiltrating German paratroopers. When his carbine was empty, he ran inside the building and patched up the BAR team of Scully and Jim Croft. They staggered back through the underbrush to safety while Burgess took Scully’s BAR and then held off more Germans. Burgess is still holding the empty BAR when their position is relieved. He refuses to relinquish the weapon and LT Bull makes him the lead man of a BAR team after hearing how well he performed under extreme combat stress. Atak helped slow the German advance across the ford upriver from his position near the bridge. He and Mugs took some serious return fire in the process. Atak suddenly noticed that Mugs was no longer upstairs with him. He figured that the punk had bugged out on him and he stayed at his post. Atak will find Mugs at a nearby aid station after the battle. Mugs is proudly showing off his wound, allegedly from enemy fire. It looks suspiciously like Mugs might have gouged his own arm with wood splinters, but Atak doesn’t want to press the matter. Good riddance, he thinks. No one is looking very closely at Mugs’ wound though, so he is put in for a purple heart, but not by Lt. Shinisky. The signature is suspiciously blurred on the paperwork. Mugs is returned to his Chow Line and gets back to the business of serving swill to GIs while regaling them with his combat experience. Atak asks to be transferred out of his cook unit to LT Shinisky’s unit and is immediately recommended for combat infantry with the “Diehardts” at the specific request of LT Shinisky with Captain Dihardt’s concurrence. His request is granted. Lieutenant Mack and his intrepid band of Military Policemen are hailed for their gallant defense of the ammo dump. HQ is impressed by LT Mack’s charge to go hand-to-hand with an enemy tank destroyer and decorations will follow. Pops Dixon is wounded when he and his engineers attempt to move into Wiltz and try to relieve it. Enemy fire is too concentrated and his men carry him to an aid station near LT Shinisky’s bridge unit where he is treated. He recovers from his wounds in the rear and has to listen to some cook who serves bad food while telling tall tales of combat experience. What a jerk! The recon performed by Dixon’s men and Red Bonze is instrumental in helping the US forces retake Wiltz and begin a push to dent the German advances. Red mourns the loss of Snider’s crew. He is also sad for the two crewmen lost by Corporal Bader when his tank was hit by a panzerfaust. His sadness is tempered when he is reunited with Corporal Winegardner and hears of the major part the commander of the M8 had in saving the ammo dump. Captain Dihardt comes through the action relatively unscathed, but he never forgives himself for the death of his friend, LT Crazy Ed. Despite the best efforts of Wild Bill and Bull Shinisky, Dihardt draws inside himself to mourn Crazy Ed, knowing that if he hadn’t volunteered his unit for this blocking action, Crazy Ed would still be alive. Captain Ulysses R. Easy is found with the remains of his task force in the woods just outside the city limits of Wiltz. He commands just 10 men out of the approximately 90 he started out with, the sad remains of his task force. His wounds are serious and he has lost a lot of blood. HQ considers Captain Easy to be a hero, having held out against overwhelming odds and seriously blunted the German offensive. General Cota wants to shower the Captain with decorations and accolades. Easy refuses all personal decorations, demanding instead that all such honors be given to his men, the living and the dead. The Army decides to avoid any sort of embarrassment that Captain Easy might be about to create, and they gently relieve him of his command and reassign him to an Officer Candidate Unit at Penn State University, believing that he needs to recover from “combat fatigue.” Easy’s Army career is ended quietly. Jenner and Doug are badly wounded from a tank shell as they attempt to flee along with the other stragglers and Captain Easy. They are found by advancing German troops and well treated. Jenner ends the war in a POW camp, but he suffers partial memory loss from his head wound and never recalls the heroics of The Beast. Doug is so traumatized by the battle and subsequent humiliation at being a prisoner of war that he tries to climb the wire and is shot by a guard, dying shortly after that, and only months from the end of the war. The Beast remains nameless and his amazing heroic action goes unrecognized. The same can be said about so many of the others from Task Force Easy as well. Snow continues to fall, gently settling on the dead and starting to cover them with a silent white blanket. Most of their bodies will be recovered by Graves Registration from where they lay, scattered around the houses and stores in a small town named Wiltz. The war goes on. Heinrich505

Red Bonze decides to continue on his recon mission with only Sgt. Snider’s Stuart tank to back him up. They make it to the crossroads to complete their recon mission, shooting up a German truck. Red huddles over a map with Snider and the two decide to return through the left flank road block area. Red eases up on a copse of trees and finds the broken bodies of the AT gun, bled out and silent. The silence is broken with the horrific craang of a shell hitting steel, and Red looks to his left in time to see Snider’s burning Stuart. Bodies lie in the snow next to the flaming tank. Now he is alone. He’s no idea where the kill shot came from. With its engine roaring, yet another Panther decides to make a try for the deadly intersection. Peterson had been holding back much of the German infantry that was finally moving into Wiltz. His 105mm gun had been deadly, causing many casualties. Peterson and crew react too slowly this time around. Maybe it is fatigue, maybe it is coming down off the adrenaline high, but for some reason, his crew is sluggish when he orders them to pull alongside the building to ready for another German tank. Peterson hears a loud bang, and figures the bazooka team two houses up might have gotten lucky. He is wrong. The Panther, already sporting holes in the side from previous bazooka hits, suddenly looms into view. Peterson yells “Left, Left, Left!” and Blake starts to rotate the turret while Roy suddenly struggles with the gears. Peterson can see it all going wrong now, things moving in slow motion. He actually sees the flash of the Panther’s cannon, and then he is stunned, lying at the bottom of the turret. Peterson has no idea how he got out of the tank. He is aware of a cold wind, and he hears another loud bang. The bazooka boys are right on it, he thinks. Maybe that damn Panther is dead now. The machine gun fire knocks him down. He can’t move, but he is still alive. He hears more screaming from inside the tank. Probably the driver and bow gunner. Peterson feels like he has let his crew down and now he gets to experience them dying too. Sowden takes aim with his last rocket. He has hit the damn beast twice already, both flank shots, and still it lives. “Last one,” calls Bob #2 as he smacks Sowden on the shoulder, perhaps with too much enthusiasm. “Clear,” yells Bob #2 as he throws himself away from the rear of the bazooka and covers his ears. They are inside a building and that means dangerous backblast. “Take that, you Mother-fu…the roar of the bazooka rocket drowns out the rest of his curse. Through the window he can see it is another hit. Three hits. Damn fine shooting but it counts for nothing if it isn’t a kill. Several units break at the same time. Having that Panther right in their midst is too much. German infiltrators open fire and the slaughter begins. Sowden has enough, and although there is a back door, he bolts out the front. Bob #2 instinctively follows him, and they are both cut down about 30 feet from the building. Jenner orders his men out the side door to try and throw a satchel charge on the Panther. It is pointing the other way and this is their moment. Doug and The Beast rush out the side door with him. Suddenly Jenner falters, ducking down by the wall. He is shaking and Doug and The Beast are right there with him, now uncertain about how to continue. Jenner yells something unintelligible and bolts for the front door of the building. Doug reacts the same way. The Panther is turning the turret now and things are looking really horrible. The Beast starts to crawl towards the Panther. He’s got a satchel charge in his hand and it appears that he is actually below the tank gun and can’t be seen. German infantry from down the street open fire and rounds ricochet around him, some tearing at his uniform and gouging his flesh. He is wounded, and leaving a trail of blood, but he keeps crawling, and the tank can’t depress their gun any further. They might be immobilized, as the tank is not moving. Staff Sergeant Kemp sees this terrifying drama taking place and he orders his men out of hiding to fire at the German infantry that are trying to end The Beast’s heroics. Several Germans scream and fall and the others start to run into a building. The Beast pulls an arming cord and hurls the deadly package towards the Panther. The Beast’s mind is clear of any thoughts except that the throw has to be perfect. He doesn’t think of living or dying; his life is not flashing before his eyes. He is focused on the simple act of doing his job well. The charge goes off against the side of the Panther. Was it a kill? Was all this for nothing? The Beast starts to turn away. He is losing blood and enemy fire is still snapping all around him. He is pretty sure the tank is dead. He hears the clang of hatches being thrown open, and he scrabbles around while still prone. Suddenly, The Beast finds himself face to face with the German commander of the tank he just killed. They are at point blank range. He fires first but misses. The German commander empties his magazine into The Beast’s face. Gold-colored shell casings pour from the German’s pistol as The Beast’s head drops into the bloody snow. Jenner saw the whole thing. He is ashamed that he ran and left The Beast out there alone. He vows that if he survives this day, he will make sure everyone knows of these heroics. Suddenly he realizes that he doesn’t know The Beast’s real name. Everyone has always just called him that, because he is so big and imposing, and that was what he liked to be called. Corporal Jenner is screaming words of hatred as he empties the entire clip from his Thompson into the back of the Kraut who killed The Beast. The rounds that missed are cascading off the side of the dead tank. Most of the other tank crew survivors are shot as they run or blown up with hand grenades. One escapes for the moment. If there is time, he will be hunted and put down. The GIs are angry and their blood is up. Another German tank starts to work slowly down the main street. The men are strained to the breaking point, and they start to run from cover. There are so few officers left, and even they, LT Kay included, are starting to run. Captain Easy shoves Barkley out the door this time, and they sprint across the street, joining the tattered survivors in a headlong retreat from the town and into a large wooded area near the road. Easy takes a shot in the side and Barkley gets hit in the leg, as German infantrymen swarm through the town to hasten Easy’s Task Force from the edge of Wiltz. Easy manages to somehow stop the rout when they get in the woods. They will hold out here, he decides. He is lucky. The Germans stop and lick their wounds. Pop Dixon and his halftrack of engineers arrive near the bridge to Wiltz. They have reconned way up the right flank, and have returned. These are the first Germans they’ve seen, and the MG gunner makes fast work of the lone outpost.

“Hey Mort, would ya lookit that?” says the MP jeep driver. “They’ve been hunkered down behind the hedge ever since they came crashing out of the woods about 15 minutes ago, all crazy-eyed and talking about how their whole group was wiped out by the Krauts. They ain’t said a word since we gave them some of our ammo. Now they up and take off like scared rabbits, racing for the ammo dump. What gives?” “They gotta know something we don’t,” says Mort. Mort Duplessis is a police officer in New Orleans, and when he signed up, the Army, in their wisdom, made him a Military Policeman. Wow, never would have seen that coming. Mort has that sixth sense that all police officers seem to have. “Pop the clutch, Benny, and back us out of here. Make for the house to our left.” Benny is a Sheriff’s Deputy from Florida. He has the same feeling that Mort has. “Consider it done,” he drawls, and the jeep lurches back through the hedge. Something bad is coming their way. LT Mack sees the stragglers come rushing into the gate. He’s been an MP for quite a while now. He is Army though, all Army, never did a job in the civilian life. He has all the same instincts that Mort and Benny have, honed from all those years of service in the MPs. “Let’s see what their problem is,” he announces. He runs out to the gate to see what the heck is wrong. He’s got Mort and Benny out on the road and he is worried. There was lots of shooting in town and now he hears engines getting louder. Mort sees it first. It looks like a small bug or a turtle. “Yaaaah!” he yells as he opens up with his 50 cal. He can see sparks flinging all across the side of the enemy gun. Benny is yelling too, but he is now partially deaf from having the fifty going off right above his head. Benny drops the jeep in reverse and smashes through a fence to put more distance between the Germans and him. LT Mack was about to call out to Sgt. Roth and find out what spooked him, and then the fifty opened up. Never mind, he says to himself. It was bad, whatever it was. From his spot next to the gate opening, he now sees what all the rest of his MPs see – a damn German anti-tank gun is BACKING into their compound. They are apparently trying to get away from the fifty, and, Mack thinks, that makes good sense. Lt Mack knows his men have no AT weapons. They’ve only got grenades. He orders the only tactic he has available – A charge. His men charge with him, no hesitation. They are caught up in the chaos and confusion that combat entails. “Get close and hit ‘em with grenades,” Mack yells. It is their only hope. Suddenly shells start raining down from the rise in the road. What the F*#$? thinks Mack. Germans? But the shells are hitting the side of the German vehicle. He can’t quite make out the armored vehicle back on the road, but it has to be one of ours, he imagines. “Get close but watch out for the shells,” he yells as he keeps running forward. “It is our armor on the road. Corporal Winegardner was detached by “Red” Bonze about 10 minutes ago and told to go and find out what was happening in town. There had been no radio contact and lots of shooting going on over there. Red didn’t want to overextend his flank with further recon if the town was already taken. Winegardner is jockeying an M8, a fast, light “HE Chucker.” They can’t do much against frontal armor of most tanks, but they sure can make a mess of infantry if need be. Winegardner arrived in town just at the time that Peterson was duking it out with Panthers and Captain Easy was being shunted from building to building. Winegardner got off a long shot against a Panther but then decided to hide amongst the buildings. Right behind a Sherman 105 seemed a good spot. Then a Hetzer whooshed past the Sherman and his gun. He’d seen them before – they were deadly but pretty much blind to the sides. Winegardner, always somewhat of a daredevil, shouted to his driver to chase the enemy vehicle. Norris has always imagined himself a racing car driver. In fact, he drives the M8 pretty much like he is working the corners at Indy, so he had no problems with Winegardner’s order. The M8 ripped around the corner of the wall and was at top speed in moments, snow flying from the back of the treads like rooster tails. Everyone was holding on for dear life and there was a smile of total contentment on Norris’ face. Winegardner has his head out of the turret, goggles on, and he sees the road dip ahead. He can’t see the Hetzer so it must already be in the ammo dump compound on their left. “Whoa, Nellie,” he calls on the intercom. Norris puts on a face of disappointment but he brakes hard. Now Winegardner can see the road ahead, and it is clear. Where is the damn…Holy Crap, it is already in the ammo dump. “Bob-eeee, left left, maybe 10 o’clock. See him, backing between the storage buildings?” “Yep, got him,” replies his gunner. The first shot is a miss, but the next 6 are hits to the side armor. “They gotta be screaming like rats in a church belfry,” laughs Winegardner. Every hit from their 75mm high explosive shells has to sound like the peal of a church bell, scrambling the brains of the German crew. Smokey calls out, “C’mon, kill ‘em, why doncha? My arms are getting tired.” He is the loader and his face seems to be the one that gets blackest with all the gunpowder going off. “Yeah, yeah, quit yer bitchin,” answers Bobby. “This is number 7, for crying out loud.” The round is slammed into the breech. Bobby punches the trigger and the round is launched out of the tank. “Flames, I see flames,” shouts Norris. “Confirmed,” announces Winegardner. “Great job, everyone! Load another, Smokey, and then have a seat.” Bobby’s gunnery is stellar.

Corporal Jenner, squad leader one of the breech teams, had the bright (?) idea that if they could get across the street, they might be able to lob a satchel charge onto the wounded Panther that backed out of sight. Without checking with anyone, essentially since there was no one with rank close enough to order him not to, Jenner and his men rush out of the confines of their building and dash across the street. Jenner had not counted on the German rushing out of the smoke like he just did, and now they are committed. It is a dash into the mouth of Hell, and his stomach is in his throat. He is actually running right at the damn tank, so maybe they just toss the satchel charge as they run by…his mind is swirling with the new plan as he hears a blast from behind. Peterson sees men in the building beside him frantically waving and pointing. He has heard a bazooka round explode and he knows what is happening. Another German tank is trying to run the gauntlet. Peterson points to a small opening past the building edge, and his gunner, Blake, eases the turret slightly towards 11 o’clock, when suddenly, THERE IT IS! Peterson and Blake see the Panther rush out of the smoke, and start to grind through a wall. This is slowing the German down and Blake wordlessly lines up the sights on the side of the enemy tank. Peterson yells “DO IT!” and the gun roars again. Another HEAT round rips from the barrel of their gun and tears into the side of the Panther. “GUT SHOT!” Peterson informs the crew. The tank is motionless now. Peterson is ecstatic and his mood is infectious. His crew is flying high. Jenner’s men have almost made it to cover. They dash across the front of the Panther, even as a Hetzer assault gun rushes to aid the Panther. Jenner and his men rush past the lifeless body of Jackson, dead only feet from cover. At this moment, LT Kay has decided that things are too hot for this particular building and he is ordering his men out and away from the Panther. LT Kay’s men are now dashing down the street, trying to use the Panther as cover. Jenner’s men have made it in the dash across certain death. The hatches are flying open from the Panther. German tank crew come face to face with men from Kay’s squad. It is total pandemonium. Big Chuck Sampson opens fire at point blank range with his BAR. GIs and Germans run past one another in a frantic bid to survive. Sparks fly from the side of the German tank as Chuck sweeps his BAR across the German. The German commander goes down, cored from Big Chuck’s gunfire, and now Chuck starts to clear out, running after his squad mates. Peterson’s gunner, Blake, sees figures rushing around the enemy tank. Peterson sees them too. “HE” he calls to the loader and receives the confirmation from the man, as an HE shell is slammed home in the breech. “Go!” yells Peterson, and a 105mm shell impacts near the tank, taking out friend and foe alike. Big Chuck goes down, victim to friendly fire. The German crew are no more. And still the Hetzer comes on, hunting, always hunting. The light machine gun team watches, powerless, as the Hetzer rolls on by their position. They are the last outpost before the ammo dump. Grace turns to McKenzie and says, “Man, those MP boys are in for the shock of their lives.” McKenzie has no love lost for MPs. “Maybe they can arrest them for fraternization with Kraut babes,” he says with a grim smile. “Oh, wait, they wouldn’t get to first base…no nylons.” Grace gives him a terse smile. Then they start looking for the German tank crewman who ducked into the church building across the street. The tank is now the problem of the MPs.

In what seems to be an instant replay, the wounded Panther now makes a dash for the first Panther’s position. Peterson sees the second Panther cruising past their position and he orders his driver to chase. “Open it up, Roy,” he shouts, “Chase him down.” The tank lurches forward but the gunner is now turning the turret again, as if to repeat the previous shot. Blake sees it all happening again, and he yells out “He’s stopping behind the burning Panther. I think I’ve got him.” “Do IT!” shouts Peterson. Before Roy can slow or stop the tank, Blake lets fly with another shell. The crew is rewarded with a brilliant flash of flame from the rear turret of the Panther. It is another fine shot by a tank gunner in an unfamiliar tank, commanded by a corporal who was orphaned from his crew less than a week ago. “Yes, Yes, Yes!” exclaims Peterson. “Damn fine crew!” His sentiment is genuine and the crew starts to gel even more. They are liking this brash corporal who seems to know just where to hide and just when to strike. The artillery observers see the whole thing from a nearby rooftop. It looked like both Panthers had a free shot at the ammo dump just a little further down the road. Now they are both blown up by some amazing work from a Sherman 105 that isn’t even supposed to be tank hunting. Captain Easy is not resting easy. From his forward position, he sees a tank duel that ends with Jackson’s tank blown up. He remembered Jackson, a good guy, quick with a smile. Now he is probably dead in his tank. Next thing he knows, he is face down in the snow, with something pinning his legs down and some confused shouting in his ear. It is his sergeant, Barkley. “What the F*&^?” he manages with a confused look on his face. “Captain, you went nuts!” he shouts in Easy’s face. “You grabbed the bazooka and ran out the back door, yelling something about ‘getting the bastard.’” I hadda chase you down and tackle you. There ain’t no rounds for the damn bazooka. IT IS EMPTY!” Easy sees the Panther as it is trying to maneuver around another dead tank. A chill goes up his spine at how close he came to buying the farm. He pats the sergeant on the shoulder with a snowy glove and manages an embarrassed “Good Man.” Barkley grabs his arm and yanks him to his feet, yelling “Follow me!” and, half dragging the Captain, they rush to the relative safety of another nearby house. Easy sees two other Panthers rush past the house he is now hiding in. The one Panther casually shoots up a bazooka team as it cruises down the main street. Then both disappear around the burning wrecks in the nearby intersection. They are probably at the ammo dump by now, he thinks angrily to himself. His whole task force shot up and he is cowering in a house. He again looks at Barkley and nods his appreciation once more at the man for saving his life. For how much longer remains the unanswered question. “German infantry coming down the far hill,” remarks Barkley. “There is another Panther hiding up the street.” Easy now sees a Panther moving slowly towards them, supported by one of those small tank hunters, the ones with a damn machine gun on the roof that they control from inside the gun. Barkley grabs Easy once more and drags him out of the house, yelling “Everyone OUT!” There is a mad scramble for better cover. The Panther and small tank hunter rip up two houses full of GIs. Some manage to run and some are cut down in the process. Easy thinks this must be what the end of the world looks like; bleeding soldiers – His Soldiers – everywhere, chaos, blood-curdling screams, and men running as fast as their legs can carry them with crazed looks of fear on their faces. He hears a craang as the Panther takes a hit from something, but it keeps on going down the street. Easy is suddenly so tired. He just wants it all to end. The horror of his men being slaughtered is overwhelming him. If he dies, so be it. He just wants to rest. Barkley will have none of it. Easy is dragged into yet another building for cover. Easy wonders out loud, “Where is Smitty?” “He got hit back at the last house,” is Barkley’s reply. Easy has no words to reply. Easy’s nightmare is still going strong. The Panther arrogantly rushes down the street but stops near Easy’s building, seeking prey on the other side of the street. Sowden, one of the “Lost Boys” that were left behind when their tank broke down, has caught up with the task force. He positioned himself in an alley, waiting for something like this to happen. “Fire!” yells Bob #2, the numerical used to differentiate between Sowden and his loader, as they both go by the name Bob. Sowden does just that, and the rocket runs true, impacting on the weaker side of the Panther. “Load,” calls Sowden. Bob #2 is shaking snow off another rocket and trying to quickly load the bazooka. Sowden watches as the damn tank is backing but also turning the turret. “Ya better hurry, Bob #2. They’s hunting us now.” Fear is in his voice. The front armor is not the place to hit these babies. Sowden feels the familiar slap on the shoulder and instinctively pulls the trigger, launching a second rocket…A HIT! But, on the front armor. Not a kill. “Dammit!” he shouts. The Panther is backing now and firing at them. They both duck for cover, but there really isn’t any. The width of a wall away, Captain Easy sees the drama played out through a window. “Don’t these things ever die?” he curses, frustration in his voice. The tank throws smoke and backs between buildings. The commander of the wounded Panther suddenly realizes that he has backed into a walled off courtyard. There is no escape here. He orders his Panther out, and it pushes into the thick cloud of smoke from their smoke pots. At the same time, Barkley has shoved Captain Easy out the building to rush for yet another location. Timing is everything, as Barkley and Easy now run headlong down the street. Out of the corner of his eye Easy sees the turret of the Panther turning towards him. “Just let it end,” he gasps as his leaden legs pound through the snow. The German gunner opens up on Easy and Barkley. Rounds chew up the ground around them.