Bjesalošiza (Pt. II) [Werner]

[∬: Erik Schneider]

Location: Bjesalošiza
Time: 08:00
Weather conditions: Cold, morning, partially clouded.

The same bitter cold wind had remained prevalent in the area as Feldwebel Schneider rolled over in his sleep. He awoke to the sound of mortars, the first sign of a renewed Polish assault. The church square had quickly become a target, as the explosive rounds were exploded everywhere. Even against the church, where the wounded were being hospitalized. Desperate Polish bastard would do absolutely anything just to assure victory. Groggy and disorientated from his slumber, he lackadaisically got up onto his knees in the dirt and grabbed his discarded MP38 that rested a few feet away. Rubbing his face with his palm, he pulled himself onto his feet with the assistance of the stone statue. The explosions began to draw closer to the soldier, as a mortar exploded against the front of a building and send shattered debris down onto the Feldwebel. Cussing and covering himself with his hands, he made a wild dash for cover.

Bursting through the door, he slammed it shut behind him and collapsed onto his knees. Panting, he brushed some peppered wood off of himself and examined for shrapnel wounds. Fortunately, Schneider had sustained no such injuries and he returned to a calm state. Regaining his breath, he had rolled over to sit properly and glanced around the room. His glassy eyes studied the interior of the large building, which was built close to the church. It was full of exhausted soldiers from his platoon, some who were awake and others who were still left to sleep. Daylight had come upon them and soon enough everyone would be awake. If the mortars were any sign of it, the Polish would be advancing on the western flank in no time hoping to sweep little opposition as compared to the eastern edge of town.

The quick scan of the first floor he had wildly thrown himself in to for cover had provided him with the knowledge that practically everyone was staring at him. Even the two teams of MG 34 gunners that had taken up positions in the windows that overlooked a road leading into the square. He was also aware that group of men belonged to none other than Obergefrieter Maybach, who Schneider was getting to like just fine. The Feldwebel lifted himself up onto his two feet and strolled across the room in silence, the waken soldiers beginning to stop watching the man so closely. Approaching Werner, he didn't look at the man, instead his eyes shot all around the room at sleeping and awake soldiers. Even with a mortar barrage raining hell down upon them, the tired and battered bastards managed to stay asleep. It was slightly amusing.

"Gutenmorgen, Obergefrieter. Haben Sie die Männer, die erreicht haben, während dieses aufgewachten Schwalls zu schlafen. Wenn diese Ruhepause im Mörserfeuer alles sagt, werden die polnischen Truppen in das Quadrat kurzzeitig stürmen." The silence after the intense mortar fire was odd and unnerving. It was as if you wanted the explosions to continue, as it meant that you could not be attacked. But now, in the early hours of the morning, the German troops were to make their last stand. Sobering up from his grogginess, the Feldwebel saw to it that all the slumbering men were wide awake by the time any Polish soldier had his blood spilt in the streets. The cold metal of the MP38 was a comforting reminder that they still had a fighting chance, as he shifted his feet to his left and approached the MG 34 teams. It was quite obvious that he was now in charge as he directed the men to load the weapons up and be prepared for a fight.

Translations:

- "Good morning, Obergefrieter. Have the men that have managed to sleep during this barrage awoken. If this lull in mortar fire says anything, the Polish troops will be storming into the square momentarily."

[Werner von Maybach]

Silently, Werner observed the outskirts of Bjesalošiza and carefully nipped from the coffee, he had filled his canteen with. The strong and bitter taste went through his spine and the enjoyable warmth of the hot beverage felt pleasing inside him. Werner sat on a wooden ammunitions box in the corner of the room and his carbine was laid against the wall directly next to him. Besides him on the floor he had several stick grenades and the last demolition charge of his squad.

After he had drunken a bit of the coffee, he wrapped his cold fingers around the warm canteen and viewed outside through the broken window again. The Poles seemed to have completely disappeared, but Werner knew all too well that they were just sitting in their holes a few hundred meters from the Germans away and probably regrouped their forces for the next attack. And this next attack could possibly become the deciding one, as the Germans were slowly but surely running out of ammunitions.

Lost in his sinister thoughts, he looked around in the small, dark room. The ceiling was partly destroyed and Werner could see the weak sun trying to break through the dark, grey clouds. The cold wind had returned and the damaged building wasn't really a cover against the weather. Some soldiers lay at the floor, wrapped into their camouflaged tarpaulins and slept like dead men. Others were smoking cigarettes or also drinking some coffee and one, very young looking Gefreiter observed the outskirts of the town with a Polish binocular he had found in the cellar. These few, absolutely exhausted men were the strongly shrunken rest of Werner's squad.

Some loud explosions coming from the backside of the house brought Werner back into reality in an instant. Polish mortars had started a quick and surprising fire raid. Clearly Werner could hear the grenades twitter scaring in the air above him and instinctively he pulled his head a little further between his shoulders. The Gefreiter with the binoculars now lay on the floor, covering his head with his hands and stared at Werner frightened. His lips were shaking and he whimpered loudly when another Polish grenade exploded on top of the yet undamaged part of the roof. Dust trickled down on Werner's head but the roof seemed to resist the force of the explosion for now.

Suddenly Feldwebel Schneider burst through the door and sank on his knees in the middle of the room. In the very first moment Werner thought that the NCO maybe was wounded but within seconds Schneider rolled his body towards the wall and placed himself in the back of the room, pressing his back against the dirty, cold bricks. The Polish bombardment stopped, after several more grenades had burst around the town square and smilingly Werner noticed that some of his men didn't even had woken up because of the fire raid. These men were way too exhausted to even realize heavy mortar grenades raining down on them.

Werner knew, that the heavy mortar fire only had been the introduction of the Polish attack and that the real fight would follow now. Schneider slowly stood up, walked towards Werner and spoke some brief words to motivate him and the rest of the men in the small room. Werner saluted and instantly answered "Ich denke auch daß die Polen es heute morgen nochmal versuchen werden, Herr Feldwebel. Und wir haben hier nur noch 7 Handgranaten sowie 500 Schuß pro MG. Ich weiß wirklich nicht wie lange wir diese beschissene Stadt noch halten können. Für ein paar Panzer IV würd ich jetzt glatt meinen Urlaub hergeben. Aber wir werden Uns wohl mal wieder selbst helfen müßen."

As Werner now ordered, the two heavy gunners started to ready their MG 34s and everybody around him busily prepared for the next stand. Werner placed himself behind one of the broken windows and attached three stick grenades to his belt. While doing so, he glanced at the inscription on the buckle saying "Gott mit Uns" and smiled grimly. In his opinion, God had left this damned country called Poland long time ago.

Translations:

"Ich denke auch daß die Polen es heute morgen nochmal versuchen werden, Herr Feldwebel. Und wir haben hier nur noch 7 Handgranaten sowie 500 Schuß pro MG. Ich weiß wirklich nicht wie lange wir diese beschissene Stadt noch halten können. Für ein paar Panzer IV würd ich jetzt glatt meinen Urlaub hergeben. Aber wir werden Uns wohl mal wieder selbst helfen müßen."
"I do also think that the Poles will come and try again today, Herr Feldwebel. And we do only have 7 stick grenades and 500 rounds for each of the MGs left. I really don't know how long we can hold this godawful town. For some Panzer IVs I would even give away my next holidays right now. But obviously we'll have to help ourselves again."

"Gott mit Uns"
"May god be with us."

[∬: Erik Schneider]

The slumbering German soldiers were shaken awake by comrades in a a few brief moments. An abrupt way to be brought back into the conscious world, but the situation was growing tire. You could almost hear tank tracks in the distance, growing closer. Werner briefly spoke to his superior, before making his way towards the duo of MGs up against the northern wall of the wounded building. Schneider drifted off into his own thoughts, gazing up into the gray sky from the vantage point under the partially destroyed ceiling. There was a gash in the clouds, almost like a wound, where the reddish orange beams of sunlight seeped through. With each passing moment, the clouds shifted away from each other and exposed a little more sun light. It was a beautiful act of nature, something that the young Feldwebel was beginning to cherish dearly. He had found himself watching sun rises and sets more often in war. They were some of the most peaceful times of the day.

"Scheiße. Jene Behälter wachsen zu nah. Kein Zweifel gehen sie auf diese Weise voran. Ich hole eine der Antibehältergewehren." Schneider alerted the Obergefreiter, before vanishing out the door. The young, lowly ranked man could handle control of the men well enough it seemed. Perhaps, he commend the men for promotion, while he simultaneously attempted to have Loffler demoted. The Feldwebel chuckled to himself, hoping that the bastard boy didn't have control of anything on the other side of town. There was no way of telling however, as the Polish had pushed into the center of town and cut off the eastern and western flanks quite easily. The ultimate goal now was probably to sweep around through a weakened western flank in order to trap the stronger eastern flank. With armor rolling down the nearby roads, that was nearly inevitable. Without some kind of reinforcements, Schneider and his men were... doomed. Doomed to end up like the previous defenders, who had been gutted and strewn up onto the lanterns.

"Was tun Sie mit dem PAK hier? Hast und Follow-me! Wir forderten ihn, die nördlichste Straße in das Quadrat zu verteidigen!" A slacking PAK 36 crew groaned as the superior ranked man hollered orders at them. Lifting the massive anti tank weapon off the ground, they rolled it forward with as much momentum as possible. Directed the crew, Schneider began to notice the obvious damage that the square had taken. The fountain was destroyed as well as ceilings, walls, and other forms of cover. The square was littered with massive holes from the mortar rounds as well as debris that had been knocked off the wounded buildings. Even one of the church walls had seemed to collapse slightly from impact, as well as a section of the roof. The unstable building was still the most busy of any other, medics frantically carrying wounded inside the over crowded field hospital. Mortars were such a demoralizing weapon to the average soldier's spirit.

Resting the Pak up against the corner, it had a good position overlooking the same road as the MG34's. It would seem that some Polish infantry had begun to pour around the corner, right into the sights of the machine guns. They were like lambs to the slaughter as the bullets tore into them. Some troops had managed to flank them successfully, emerging from a nearly destroyed building to Schneider's left. Raising his gun on them with desperate intentions of killing, he realized it was four German soldiers emerging from the chaos to a leadership figure. "Ah, gut. Sie vier bleiben hier und schützen den Pak für mich. Lassen Sie mich nicht im Stich, dieses Quadrat abhängt von diesem Pak." Silently, the men nodded and rushed over to the Pak crew. Schneider, pleased that the weapon could be adequately defended now, made his return to Maybach's forces.

Translations:

- "Shit. Those tanks are growing too close. No doubt they are heading this way. I will fetch one of the anti tank guns."

- "What are you doing with the PAK here? Hurry and follow me! We required it to defend the northernmost road into the square!"

- "Ah, good. You four stay here and guard the Pak for me. Do not let me down, this square depends on this Pak."

[Werner von Maybach]

The daunting noise of tracks rolling over the dirty Polish earth now grew louder and louder. Although Werner couldn't spot the enemy by now, these tanks must been heading toward the northern road, directly into the weak flank of the German troops. Clearly Werner saw the last hours in front of his inner eye and the thought of his own helplessness facing the Polish tanks gave him the creeps. Strained searching for any suspect movement, Werner only half realized Feldwebel Schneider leaving the building to fetch one of the Pak 36 guns.

Now, all of the German soldiers were silently observing the wide, damaged street and the fields in front of the building. Circa 200 meters away, there stood a burned out wreck of a German Opel Blitz truck besides the street. The noise seemed to come from a bigger basin right of the road and it sounded as if there were a lot of tanks grouping for an attack.

There fell a deep silence in the building now and Werner could clearly hear one of the man whispering his prayers. Another Gefreiter tried to take a last sip from his canteen, but his hand shivered way too heavy and he poured most of the coffee over his anyway dirty uniform. Werner closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He nearly wished for the Poles to attack now, making an end to that awful waiting time. And as if the Poles had read Werner's thoughts, slowly the first turret got visible at the edge of the basin.

Within a few seconds, more tanks rolled out of the basin and headed toward the town. Five of them could be seen now and clearly Werner recognized one of the Polish tank commanders carefully lurking out of his hold. Behind the tanks, earth brown figures hoped from cover to cover, advancing in the safety behind the metal giants. Silently Werner said to his men: "Keiner schießt. Wenn uns die Panzer hier bemerken, sind wir für Sie doch nur leichte Beute. Wir müssen auf Feldwebel Schneider und die Pak warten." Werner hated the meaning of his own words and he felt the strong need to fire some shots at the Poles himself, just to do anything at all. But in the current situation, that would mean practically committing suicide and taking the whole rest of his squad with him.

Slowly the Polish tanks kept advancing, stopping every now and then. Their own, heavy casualties from the last night made the Poles very careful now. The tank commanders obviously didn't trust the illusory peace laying over Bjesalošiza. One of the tanks turned his turret now, directly facing the building, Werner's squad hid in and fired some shots. The grenades hit into the remaining part of the outside wall, causing loud bangs that made Werner's ears hurt. After no German reaction followed, the Polish tanks slowly rolled on again and drove dangerously close to the ruin.

Werner's thoughts were running now and he felt the blood pumping through his head. Those few Polish tanks could get a large threat for the defenders in the town, because there was just now way to stop them before getting into the back of most of the German troops. There still was no sign of any of the at guns.

In the meantime, the Polish tanks had split up. While four of them slowly continued their advance into the town along the road, the last one stopped circa 50 meters in front of the ruin to secure his comrades. Instantly Werner remembered the demolition charge laying besides him and instinctively his hand tightly grabbed for it. The cold metal felt better to him then anytime before.

"Müller, Hahn, ihr zwei kommt mit mir. Der Rest gibt uns Feuerschutz, wenns notwendig wird. Ich hab die Schnauze gestrichen voll und bin mir sicher, das wir den Polen damit noch eine böse Überaschung bereiten können." After Werner had attached the demolition charge to his belt, he carefully started to crouch toward the entrance of the building, followed by the other two soldiers.

Werner's mind had sharpened and he was strained observing the direct surroundings of the ruin for some cover. There were a lot of deep crates everywhere and a long but low row of bushes. Nobody seemed to have noticed, when the three soldiers jumped out of the building and ran some meters, disappearing again behind the bushes. Laying flat on the earth, Werner clearly felt his own heart pumping. Turning his head to Gefreiter Müller besides him, he silently whispered: "Passt auf, Ich versuch von hier an den Panzer ran zukommen. Jetzt oder nie." In the moment he jumped up, Werner had forgotten about anything else and he only focused on the back of that giant, metal monster in front of him

Translations:

"Keiner schießt. Wenn uns die Panzer hier bemerken, sind wir für Sie doch nur leichte Beute. Wir müssen auf Feldwebel Schneider und die Pak warten."
"Nobody shoots. If the tanks should discover us here, we would only be an easy prey for them. We've got to wait for Feldwebel Schneider and the at- gun."

"Müller, Hahn, ihr zwei kommt mit mir. Der Rest gibt uns Feuerschutz, wenns notwendig wird. Ich hab die Schnauze gestrichen voll und bin mir sicher, das wir den Polen damit noch eine böse Überaschung bereiten können."
"Müller, Hahn, you two will come with me. The rest of you will give us some covering fire if needed. I'm really fed up now and sure that we can give a nasty, little surprise to the Poles with this thing here."

"Passt auf, Ich versuch von hier an den Panzer ran zukommen. Jetzt oder nie."
"Watch out. I'll try to reach the tank from here. Now or never."

[∬: Erik Schneider]

There was that slight surprise as Schneider burst into the occupied building again, bringing a raised state of awareness. The young soldiers hastily raised their weapons toward the figure hovering in the doorway. With the sight of the Polish armor rolling down the street, every man was unnerved. The men slackened their aim and turned away from the Feldwebel, focusing on staying out of view of the windows. "Wo ist das Obergefrieter? Was ist los hier? " A confused Schneider inquired, shiftily eying the soldiers who simply shrugged and pointed outside. It would be a shame if Maybach had abandoned his post in fear. The young, fresh soldier seemed to have qualities better of Unteroffizer Loffler. But had he thrown that all away and made a run for it in desperate confusion? No one spoke a word to the Feldwebel, instead cowering further below the crumbling walls.

The sound of Polish voices grew louder in the street, the human soldiers joining their mechanical counterparts along the peaceful march down the road. Crouching low below, Schneider passed under the open area of the room where the roof was torn open. The room fell silent as the only sound came from the large armored vehicles approaching mixed in with the foreign language of the "animals". As he came to rest in the center of the room, he watched an anxious soldier rise up before the window and take control of the aged machine gun. Opening fire on the earth brown donning soldier so fast, the man had compromised their position with a simply act of stupidity. "Nein! Wartezeit! Stoppen Sie, bevor Sie uns ganz getötet erhalten!" Schneider cried out in horror as the obvious sign of a turret shifting its aim to align itself with the target. Backing away from the wall, he yelled out in warning. Within seconds, there was the roar of a tank shell hurtling itself through the air.

A large explosion rocked the building, punching a hole through the front of the building. The shrapnel and force cut the nearest, unfortunate bastards to pieces and sent the rest flying. Thrown back from the force, Schneider shielded himself from the shrapnel and spray of debris that could be just as dangerous. The world was shrouded in darkness as the Feldwebel smashed against the wooden floor. Resisting the lure of unconsciousness, he struggled to lift his limp body up. Straining the muscles in his arms, he grunted and coughed. The dust given off from the shell's explosion irritated his lungs and eyes as he motioned forward with the intention of running. Everything had happened so swiftly. The anxious soldier, the machine-gun fire, the shifting turret, and the resulting explosion. There were grim thoughts of utter destruction in his mind as he forced his eyes open. The grisly sight of maimed Germans and collapsed buildings wouldn't be welcoming.

Opening his eyes once more, he had a perfect view of of the approaching tank in flames through the ruined wall. Scavenging his weapon off the ground, he crawled towards the cover of the rubble left in the tank shell's wake. He turned over discarded bodies to find the same dull, blank expression of death painted across the faces. Tossing the corpses uselessly to the side, he checked the wounded heavy weaponry only to find the MG34's put out of commission. The previously fortified position was left in ruins as the surviving men scrambled about in confusion. Leading the men into the fray, Schneider opened fire on the Polish soldiers with a new found frenzy. Taking up arms, the Germans cut through the storm of earth brown uniforms regardless of the machine-gun loss. The accumulating amount of burning tanks that were building up in the road provided adequate cover for the cowering Pollacks, as well as hiding the Germans from other tanks through wrecked metal and smoke.


Translations:

- "Where is the Obergefrieter? What is going on here? "

- "No! Wait! Stop, before you get us all killed!"

[Werner von Maybach]

Lurking through the bushes, Werner clearly saw the big, Polish tank in front of him, standing only circa 30 meters away. The barrel moved around, searching for another victim and made the tank look a bit like a giant, metal insect hunting for it's prey. Next to Werner, the privates Müller and Hahn pressed their bodies against the muddy earth and tried to stay behind the small cover, the long row of bushes provided to the German soldiers.

Werner was quite sure, that the Poles inside of the tank hadn't discovered the three Germans by now. And surprise was one of the essential elements in Werner's plan. Slowly he crouched along the shrubs, carefully trying not to get seen. Brambles scratched him inside his face, but Werner was too focused on the tank to even realize. The Polish 7TP tank had now turned toward the ruin and showed his vulnerable back to the three Germans.


Polish 7TP tank with a 3,7 cm gun

Shortly before Werner and his small squad had reached the end of the bush row, one of the MGs in the ruin behind the men started to fire and instantly got answered by the explosions of several tank shells, hitting the outer wall of the ruin. Loud screams of agony could be heard. "Dieser verdammte Idiot, jetzt wissen die Polen, wo sie hinschiessen müssen.", Werner silently whispered to the men next to him, cursing the prematurely firing man at the machine gun.

But there was no going back for the three men now. After he had hung his K98 rifle around his shoulder, he took the demolition charge from his belt, readied himself for the final jump and loudly yelled: "Macht euch bereit, ich geh den Panzer jetzt an, gebt mir Deckung." Dashing through the shrubs, he stormed toward the single standing tank and quickly climbed on the back of the armored vehicle. The tank abruptly moved forward and made Werner nearly loose his balance. In the last moment, he was able to grab an armor plate and stay on the tanks back. The tanks hold opened and now the head of the tank commander slowly poked out. In a quick reaction, Werner forcefully smashed the demolition charge on the Pole's head. The man sunk down into the tank again and instantly Werner ripped away the plastic cap of the demolition charge, sharpened it and threw it inside the tank. Finally he zestfully closed the hold again and jumped up from the tank's back. After a hard landing on the grey earth, Werner hurried to get away from the Polish tank as far as possible.

But before he could reach the safe cover of a nearby shell-hole, a giant explosion shook the tank and made Werner dive to the ground. The whole panzer turret got ripped off, flew several meters through the air and landed on the ground with a loud bang. A big cloud of thick, black smoke raised into the air and hundreds of shrapnels and metal pieces zipped around Werner's head like mosquitoes. He felt one strong hit against his left shoulder and had to cough hardly. The explosion of the tank had pressed all the air out of his lungs. In front of his eyes he saw dancing, black shapes and for a short moment, he believed that his time finally had come now, to die as a hero for his fatherland.

In the corner of his eyes, he realized some figures moving behind the burning tank. They were wearing earth brown uniforms and quickly advanced toward Werner's position. But before they managed to get too close, the two German privates behind the bushes started firing and worked the bolts of their carbines in no time. The surprising shots struck some of the Polish infantrymen down and forced the rest into cover. "Herr Obergefreiter, alles in Ordnung mit Ihnen?", one of the two soldiers shouted, but Werner only barely understood the words. He tried to answer, but no words came out of his dry mouth. Werner's whole cognition was still very limited and he wasn't able to move, but slowly his will to survive took over him again. Carefully he tried to straighten up, but the pain in his shoulder made him fall back to the ground. Just when his vision started to blur out completely, Werner felt two strong hands grabbing him under his shoulders and towing him back behind the covering bushes.

The next thing that Werner was able to realize was the dirty, determined face of Gefreiter Hahn grimly smiling at him and the comrade carfully trying to wrap a bandage around his terribly aching shoulder.

Translations:

"Dieser verdammte Idiot, jetzt wissen die Polen, wo sie hinschiessen müssen."
"This damned idiot, now the Poles know where they have to shoot at."

"Macht euch bereit, ich geh den Panzer jetzt an, gebt mir Deckung."
"Get ready, I'll go for that tank now. Give me cover."

"Herr Obergefreiter, alles in Ordnung mit Ihnen?"
"Herr Obergefreiter, is everything all right with you?"

[∬: Erik Schneider]

The sharp, ringing pain overwhelmed the inner walls of his ears as he gathered himself up behind the ruins of the destroyed building. A gentle, numb pain pierced through his body. There was no doubt he had been wounded, but the most severe of the pain was not evident within his body. Instead, it was a dull, light sensation that was both frightening yet exhilarating at the same time. Without much of a grasp on reality, the world seemed so mechanical to him. The German War Machine it was called. Perhaps, it would be better off this way, each soldier letting raw instinct and impulse to drive him in battle. An efficient killing machine, the Feldwebel popped off lead and dropped the Polish troops effortlessly, a void look across his face. The rising flames of the Polish tank took no toll on the young NCO.

Someone called out a grenade, before Schneider reluctantly ducked below debris. As the grenade exploded and littered him with specks of dirt, the Feldwebel stared onward at the remnants of his men scattered across the debris of the wrecked building. Ears still ringing, he shifted around in the mess of the ruins, daftly observing the tough resistance the German soldiers were giving as they held out against all odds. Madly, a grin spread across his lips and he chuckled like a mad man as he rolled over onto his stomach. On his knees now, he dug his helmet out of the dirt and secured it over his head. There was a firm grip on his shoulder, digging into his skin and roughly shaking him back and forward. Rising onto his feet, he saw the face of a frightened soldat looking for orders.

A small gathering of tanks and accompanying infantry were pinned by the scattered German fire and their antitank cannon, but it was obvious the battered, exhausted soldiers would not hold out any longer. The out of body experience had ended and the burning sensation in his ears had died down. Instinct told him to fall back, to a better position. "Fallen Sie zurück! Fall zurück zu der Kirche. Aufhebung Feuer, bevor wir gehen! Jetzt gekommen! Zur Kirche! " The drained soldiers had no time to cheer for the granted wish and no happiness was exchanged between the soldiers. The defense was falling apart as the soldiers were being forced to fall back to their last line, where the last stand would be made. The Polish couldn't succeed... could they?

A portion of the squad covered the distance quickly and gathered inside the church, some staying behind to cover the retreat. The sacred antitank weapon was safeguarded with several lives as it was suddenly rolled to the eastern edge of the church. Some men had scavenged a second cannon, which was positioned in the town square to the west of the field hospital church building. Schneider stepped in the church with the second wave of soldiers, in awe at the sight of the wounded soldiers. It hadn't occurred to him the number of injured soldiers who were littered across the rows and floors of the church, with medics scurrying across the building. Cries of pain echoed throughout the ancient, decrepit holy building. They were inviting hostility into the church building, but the Polish would slaughter their wounded and destroy the church if they had to in the first place.

So it was decided, simultaneously through every soldier who stepped into that church. They would defend the religious building to the last drop of their blood. Schneider maneuvered down the busy rows, directing soldiers to shattered windows and directing medics around the room. Slipping another clip of ammunition into the MP38, he approached a window and knelt down. The last Polish wave was regrouping at the outskirts of the town, the sound of tank engines multiplying behind the cover of buildings. "Laßt ihm seien Sie Männer eines gute Kampfes. Für jedes Deutsche, das heute verloren ist, wünsche ich fünf polnische Tote in seinem Platz. Dieses ist unser letzter Standplatz. Lassen Sie uns uns sicherstellen gehen aus hier heraus heute und Position noch einmal. "

Translations:

- "Fall back! Fall back to the church. Suppressing fire, before we go! Come now! To the church!"

- "Let it be a good fight men. For every German lost today, I want five Polish dead in his place. This is our last stand. Let us ensure we walk out of here today and stance once more."

[Werner von Maybach]

Everything around him had happened all too fast, but now Werner slowly recovered from his first shock. His head was aching awfully and he lay in the safe cover of the bush row again, silently thanking god for keeping him alive. Besides him, Gefreiter Hahn just had finished wrapping a bandage tightly around Werner's shoulder, while Gefreiter Müller stiffly watched the wreck of the tank, waiting for more Poles to show up there. "Is nur'n Kratzer, Herr Obergefreiter. Ne Woche Urlaub und Sie sind wieder auf'm Damm.", Hahn said with his strong, Bavarian accent, smirking at Werner all the time like a small rascal. The man probably knew, that Werner's shoulder ached terribly now and that it definitely was more than a simple scratch.

The three Germans had managed to destroy one of the Polish tanks, but nevertheless, the situation was still critical for them. From his position, Werner couldn't see the main force of the Polish attackers, but he already could hear wild fighting to occur in his back. There were the long, stagnant rows of the German machine guns firing, broken by the loud, dry bangs of exploding grenades. Did the poles maybe already manage to capture the city and were Werner and his two comrades already cut off?

It was a hard fight for Werner to slowly push himself off the ground and when he finally had managed to, he felt very dizzy. His knees were weak and shaky, but his tone sounded as straight as always. "Ok, Männer, wir müssen hier weg. Die Polen stehen schon zu weit in der Stadt. Einzeln absetzen, Ich geh als letzter. Wir treffen uns an der Kirche wieder. Los."

The two privates looked at Werner in surprise, but both of them instantly realized that he was more than serious here. While Werner aimed his carbine at the still burning wreck, private Hahn quickly turned around and started sprinting toward the church tower. Surprisingly, there was no Polish reaction, nobody even tried to shoot at the German private. When he got out of sight, Müller jumped up and followed his comrade's way. Werner stayed silent for a moment now, stiffly aiming his rifle at the enemy, he wasn't able to see. His view still was a bit blurry and the pain in his shoulder hadn't got any better yet. Turning his head just a bit, felt like pure agony to him. But finally Werner hung his rifle over his healthy shoulder and forced himself to get up again, starting to move one foot after the other as quick as possible.

Running toward the big church in front of him, Werner recognised Müller circa fifty meters in lead of him. Werner's lungs were nearly collapsing, when a sudden burst of bullets made him dive for cover in a small shell-hole. Lurking over the edge of the hole, he saw another of these ugly, Polish tanks rolling toward the town square. Private Müller still hadn't discovered the threat, when the tank slowly started to turn around. In a flashy burst, a shell left the tanks turret. The explosion lifted the young German private into the sky and made him land hardly on the ground with his back. Just within this moment, another loud burst came from the direction of the church and some shell hardly hit the tank's side armor. Werner saw the hold of the tank getting forcefully opened and two of the crew members jumping out, followed by a thick cloud of black smoke. Only seconds later, the ammunition inside the tank exploded, instantly killing the two men besides it.

Without hesitating, Werner jumped up again and continued his way. Reaching private Müller and laying down besides him, he quickly saw that there was no need for help here any more. The man's body lay on the ground building a bizarre shape. His face was heavily deformed with his lower jaw completely smashed and parts of his left cheek ribbed out. Closing his eyes for a second, Werner had to take a deep breath first, before taking the last, few steps to reach the safe cover of the church.

Translations:

"Jo, des is nur'n Kratzer, Herr Oberg'freiter. Ne Woche Urlaub un Sie san wieder auf'm Damm."
"It's only a scratch, Herr Obergefreiter. Holidays for a week and you'll most probably be absolutely alright again."

"Ok, Männer, wir müssen hier weg. Die Polen stehen schon zu weit in der Stadt. Einzeln absetzen, Ich geh als letzter. Wir treffen uns an der Kirche wieder. Los!"
"Alright, guys, we've got to leave here instantly. The Poles have already advanced too far into the city. Withdraw single, I'll move out last. We'll see each other at the church. Go!"

[∬: Erik Schneider]

It was a bloody mess. Wounded soldiers and corpses scattered across the stone floor of the church, their blood painting the stones crimson. Anxious soldiers rushing across the church, in search for orders. Some of the wounded nearest to the northern wall of the church were accidentally trampled. Crazed medics, drenched with blood rushed around trying to aid those who needed it most. Soldiers still poured in from outside, scattering to nearby buildings as well. Cries of pain, roaring orders, sobs of misery, and even battle cries mixed together and echoed throughout the church. Schneider stood like a giant towards the middle of the church, his voice hoarse from giving orders. He yelled at individual soldiers to go somewhere or do something. His orders boomed across the church and the men followed orders.

Three MG 34s had been set up, in the seven northern windows. One of the powerful machines perked out and looked to the northeast, one in the middle looked to the north, and the last took over the northwest. In between, the other four windows were occupied by rifles and some submachine guns. The rest of the squads were assigned throughout the church, to the west, east, or south. Some rifles had climbed into the tower, primarily to scout for armored vehicles. The remainder of men were scattered in the closet buildings and town square, mainly protecting the large anti tank weapons. The chaotic mess shifted into a organized position, through cooperation between Schneider and some squad leaders. The hierarchy had been cut down to a Feldwebel, all the officers either dead, wounded, or hiding. Or at least, everyone agreed with the Feldwebel taking the reigns like he was some sort of Lieutenant.

It no longer mattered what Schneider's rank was. Within moments, the mess organized itself somewhat to create a threat for advancing Polish tanks and infantry. That was all that mattered. That they could hold out somewhat against the power of the Polish. How many had advanced on this small, shitty town? 100? 500? 1000? Who knew how many had been slaughtered on either side. This was the last line. Either hold here and now or die. There would be no retreat. Every Pollock who marched into Bjesalošiza that day would be a dead man. Finally, the Feldwebel's voice nearly nonexistent approached a shattered church window beside an MG34 team. He had found his calling that day. He had unleashed the soldier within him and given the chance to lead. And lead he would. Throughout all his days, he would remember Bjesalošiza. Even if today was his last.

Schneider found himself on his last clip of ammunition. He removed an empty clip and forced the new one in it's place. As his eyes peered out from the window, he found a horde of Polish soldiers cut down in all directions. Even some of the tanks had been destroyed by glorious German AT cannons that cut through their armor as if it were paper. The armored thread of the Polish had been subdued for the time being, but they would managed to retaliate soon. It was only a matter of time. Schneider let out a burst of fire toward the ruined building, where a group of Polish had taken position. Slowly, 34 fire shifted in the direction and gunned down every last sorry bastard in the ruins. A Polish machine gun rolled out into the open, its gunner cut down in the ruined building before he had the chance to fire. Soon enough, Schneider's last bullet left his MP38 and he pulled back from the window. Slinging the empty weapon over his shoulder, another man took his spot at the window. For sometime, he observed if everything was going well.

It was too much for a simple Feldwebel to take in, he hoped his hoarse orders would save his men. But, he wished an officer was around to take the reins and lead them to victory or defeat. It weighed on his conscious that he would be responsible for the death of his men. As he scooped a MP38 clip off the ground, a soldier with a large radio on his back charged at him. "Schneider! Schneider! Ich nahm Kontakt auf, aber dieser Radio wird auch beschädigt, um anzugehen. Aller, den ich weiß, ist wir haben Verstärkungen auf der Weise. Deutsche Truppen marschieren rechts Bjesalošiza dieser Augenblick! " The news took the Feldwebel by surprise. Reinforcements were on the way. They were saved. "Sehr gut. Geben Sie den Radio mit einem Graben um, wenn es nicht mehr funktioniert. Guter Job, Soldat. " Schneider sighed with relief and patted the man on his shoulder, turning to face his men. "Hörten Sie das? Sie senden Verstärkungen! Wir halten die Linie hier! Wir halten diese Stadt und zerquetschen dieses nervtötendes Polnisches unter Germany' s konnte! " Some soldiers erupted into hoots and hollers, others merely fought harder at the prospect of being relieved. At least for a moment, every man felt as if they were going to make it out of Bjesalošiza okay.

Translations:

- "Schneider! Schneider! I made contact, but this radio is too damaged to go on. All I know is we have reinforcements on the way. German troops march to Bjesalošiza right this instant!"

- "Very well. Ditch the radio if it will no longer work. Good job, soldier."

- "Did you hear that? They are sending reinforcements! We will hold the line here! We will hold this town and crush these pesky Polish under Germany's might!"

[Werner von Maybach]

Although bullets whizzed around Werner's head both left and right, he left his death comrade behind and continued his sprint toward the church. The high tower stood out of the whole scene like a mountain, still not broken by all this fighting around him. Because of the adrenaline rush, the pain in Werner's shoulder was nearly gone now. Quickly the German jumped over the low brick wall that was surrounding the small graveyard behind the church. Taking cover behind the small wall for some seconds, Werner took a deep breath and strained tried to observe his surroundings.

But there was nothing than absolute confusion around him. Several German soldiers were spread over the graveyard, covering behind trees, walls or even the bigger tombstones. Lots of them were wounded, too many death, but everyone who was still able to, did not stop putting up stiff resistance against the Polish attackers. Some meters behind, Werner recognized private Hahn pressing his body into the dirt. When Hahn had realized his friend some moments later, he jumped off the muddy ground and ran toward the brick wall in a zigzag path. Loudly gasping, the young soldier dumped himself down besides Werner. Turning his face around, Hahn was grinning all over, happy to see his close friend still alive. Both of the men didn't feel the need to say anything to each other in that moment.

With the coming relaxation after the sprint, the pain in Werner's shoulder got worse again. Looking at it, Werner saw that the bandage that was wrapped around his shoulder was already completely drenched with blood. But all those screams and the look of his own blood actually felt like a certain rush to the German. In this moment, Werner was absolutely sure about himself surviving this hell of a situation. And he had no doubts about the Germans holding the city long enough, just because there was no other end he was able to think of at all. Ignoring the awful pain in his collar, he grabbed his carbine from his back and vastly emptied another clip toward the attackers.

On the far left side, Werner noticed the crew of a German at- gun push their cannon forward through the Polish fire in a death-defying manner. Within seconds, the three soldiers positioned the gun behind a low bush and instantly loaded an armor-piercing shell into the tube. Four more Polish tanks had just turned around the corner of a building and started advancing toward the town square. But obviously their crews acted more carefully, now that some of the tanks already were nothing more than burning wrecks. Slowly the tanks rolled forwards and moved their turrets back and forth in search for another victim. All of them had their holds tightly closed and more earth-brown Infantrymen were directly following behind.

But without caring for the threat, the Germans behind the at- gun only took some seconds to aim before the first shell got released with a loud bang. Stunned, Werner watched the duel between the tanks and the brave men with their small gun. The first shot went off a bit too short and a small fountain of dirt flew up several meters in front of the closest tank. Immediately the gunner aimed higher. Just in the same moment, the loader had already zestfully pushed the next shell into the gun. This time the shot was aimed better and the left track of the Polish tank instantly got removed from the wheels. With a loudly yawning motor, the metal giant started to turn around his own axis for a short moment, before it finally stopped completely. The holds popped open and within seconds the Poles jumped out, searching for some cover behind a small, nearby ridge. But the Germans didn't had any time to actually enjoy their small victory.

Because of the two shots, the other tanks had discovered the position of the gun and sprayed a whole load of MG bullets toward it now. The commander instantly made an abrupt movement and fell to the ground, deadly hit by the rounds into his chest. The other two men managed to jump aside into the bushes just in time, but the at- gun was silenced for the moment. When the Poles had noticed that, the tanks carefully started rolling forward again.

Abruptly Werner's attention got caught by private Hahn besides him, loudly yelling: "Polnische Infanterie von rechts! Pass auf Werner." While he shouted his warning, Hahn aimed his rifle and fired some rounds towards the earth-brown figures, that just had appeared behind a large ridge on the right flank of the Germans. In an instinctively movement, Werner grabbed a stick-grenade from his belt and instantly sharpened it. Silently he counted to himself from 21 to 23 and then forcefully threw the load toward the advancing Poles. In the short moment before hiding behind the wall again, Werner clearly saw his grenade detonating right in the middle of the enemy squad.

Translations:

"Polnische Infanterie von rechts! Pass auf Werner."
"Polish infantry to the right! Watch out, Werner."

[OOC: Sorry for the delay. And obviously Werner has not noticed about the reinforcements yet, I dunno if you wanted to let them appear right now or a bit later.]

[∬: Erik Schneider]

This is it, Schneider, make it last. The young, mildly inexperienced Feldwebel jammed a clip of ammo into his factory fresh MP38. A single clip of ammo was placed into one of the many empty pouches connected to his belt, for desperate measures. There was utter chaos in the small, local graveyard that stretched the length of the front of the church. From the safety of cover, he observed the men caught up in a crossfire between their own allies and their now most hated foes. Trapped beneath a rain of MG34 fire as well as a mix of every god damn bullet the Pollacks could possibly throw at them, the men were struggling to survive. Wounded, in horrible cover, demoralized, and struggling to hold the northern graveyard against the Polish, they needed a break.

Figuring they could sacrifice the graveyard and risk the Polish moving up into adequate cover with the incoming reinforcements, Schneider moved towards the center of the church. "Ich denke, dass unsere Männer in diesem Friedhoffluch lang genug verfangen worden sind. Lässt etwas Bedeckungfeuer niederlegen und das verletzte Innere und an das Quadrat gelangen. So schnell und leistungsfähig wie möglich!" Inside the church, there were three entrances in the form of large wooden doors. Towards the west, a door opened up at the rear of the church, to allow the local villagers a central access point. A near mirror entrance was to the east, where the town folk could enter near the front of the church, most likely reserved for the most "prestigious" of the damned Pollacks. And a last entrance, lead to the backrooms of the church and tower area, as well as out back to the town square.

The general plan was, distract and maim the Poles to allow a good portion of the wounded men entrance to the church. A good number of wounded men were dragged inside by bold comrades, some soldiers simply flanked around the church to the square, and others were brash and stubborn choosing to remain in the graveyard. The Feldwebel, who helped guide a new wave of wounded into the church, emptied his MP38 out to the last few bullets into a nice chunk of Polish soldiers. The Poles, who were recognized by their earth brown uniforms, now looked like waves of shit pouring into the town. Rightfully so, Schneider associated the backwards scum with shit after all the hardship they had caused his men. There was a loud explosion, the sound of a grenade, which brought a loud burst of cheers and hollers from the Germans in the church and amongst the graves. A soldier had nearly singe handedly taken out half a platoon, which was then quickly mopped up by a MG34. Good man, should be commended for it.

Rushing out the rear doors of the church, Schneider found that new life had been breathe into the town square. Met with a stubborn defense to the north, the Polish soldiers decided to give their best shot at taking hold of the town square and southern buildings in order to surround and annihilate the mighty holy building that stood in their way. He had left command of the church to a loyal Unteroffizer, who reacted well to the orders. Not like there was much orders to be given, the soldiers thought well enough for themselves. They knew their priority was simply to defend the church and they decided the best ways to do it. So far, it worked out well. Now, there was a new challenge for Schneider. Defend the square and provide a rear guard for the church long enough, that they could hold out until the arrival of reinforcements.

The first thing he noticed was the Pak 36 peeking around the corner of the church that was lazily discarded by its men. As he approached, he found a few men hiding in a small bush along the side of the church as well as a corpse riddled with Polish bullets. "Was scheint, das Problem zu sein hier?" The soldiers, surprised to find another man within their bush, nearly lunged for an attack before they realized it to be their Feldwebel. "Vier Behälter, Sir. Das ist unser Problem. Vorangebracht vom Nordwesten, hinunter die Straße. Wir erreichten, ein zu sperren, aber die anderen brachten uns mit Maschinengewehrfeuer zum Schweigen. Lose Maschinengewehrfeuer. " Was the hasty response of a corporal, who had been helping operate the anti tank cannon. Schneider gave the Pak 36 a good look and discerned it was okay to use, for the time being.

"Gut wenn wir unten festgesteckt werden, lässt Bewegung. Angegangen! Wir verschieben die Gewehr! " The hollered order was answered by three men, who rushed over from the fountain in the center of the square. Without hesitation, the five men lifted the weapon up from its resting spot, fully aware it was their only hope for survival. As they rushed to get it in place beside the fountain in the center of the square to allow it enough of a field of view to defend the square, 2 of the men found themselves the prey of a hail of machine gun fire. The Feldwebel had not been prepared for the sudden approach of the 7TP Polish light tanks. A startled Polish tank that had been preparing a shot at the church, shifted its turret to face the new threat. The four Germans behind the gun hastily prepared a shot, the sound of a turning turret growing ever louder. "FEUER!"

The hasty Pak 36 round managed to make accurate contact with the side armor of the tank, penetrating it easily. The tank had quickly been transformed into a burning wreck of metal, blocking a portion of a path into the town square. To the far west though, a Polish tank had managed to flank around to the square and was now slowly advancing down the road. "SCHEISSE! DURCHLAUF! ANKOMMEND!" Schneider only had a good four second head start, before the tank round exploded out of the main cannon of the Polish tank. The significant force of the explosion behind him, threw him forward and off balance as he was sent colliding with the cobblestone. A rain of stone washed over him, the beautiful fountain destroyed. Confused and ears ringing, Schneider propped himself up on a knee. The others didn't appear so lucky, their corpses strewn across the square.

The infantry was on the move now, charging past their armored comrades. Barely able to stand, Schneider crawled back towards the Pak and threw his MP38 sideways against the tip of the shattered fountain for support. He emptied the remnants of his clip into some dirt brown uniforms, the sub-machine gun going wild within his hands. A beacon of hope, the last MP38 clip was salvaged from his ammo pouch. Snapping out the empty clip, he replaced it with a fresh clip of ammo. Firing down range, he was joined by several Germans who had migrated south from the graveyard. Hope was nearly lost, when suddenly, a single bullet collided with the Polish tank. The explosion and flames were a grand spectacle. Was the armor really that thin? A baffled Feldwebel watched in awe as a Stug emerged in place of the Polish tank, trapping a doomed wave of Polish soldiers along the street. Schneider recognized the sound. They were roars of victory.

Translations:

- "I think our men have been caught in that graveyard damn long enough. Lets lay down some covering fire and get the wounded inside and to the square. As quick and efficient as possible!"

- "What seems to be the problem here?"

- "Four tanks, sir. That is our problem. Advanced from the north west, down the road. We managed to disable one, but the others silenced us with machine gun fire. Lots of machine gun fire."

- "Well, if we are pinned down, lets move. Come on! We are moving the gun!"

- "SHIT! RUN! INCOMING!"

[Werner von Maybach]

The moment appeared endless to Werner and like in slow motion, he saw the stick grenade flying toward the Polish attackers. Some of the earth brown figures hastily tried to jump aside but the grenade went off exactly in the middle of the group. Metal splinters cut through the wet air making a terrible sound and Werner managed to get his head down just in time, before several bullets whizzed closely over his brass hat. The effect of the grenade had been devastating. Some of the Poles had instantly gotten killed, the blast leaving not a lot more of their corpses than a bloody mass. One soldier lay at the edge of an empty foxhole, awfully screaming in agony because his left leg lay several meters besides him. But within seconds, a German MG 34 fired a long burst from the church and instantly ended the pain of that soldiers.

Around Werner, some of the Germans started to cheer loudly, because this single grenade had taken a lot of the pressure from them. The Polish fire eased up momentarily, but within only a few minutes the next row of attackers appeared at the ruins to the north of the hardly defended church, refilling the places of their fallen comrades.

After the certain rush of the success, the pain in Werner's shoulder instantly swapped over him again. The forceful movement of his arm while throwing the stick grenade had been too much for Werner's wounded chest and for a short moment, his vision started to blur out again. It appeared incredibly inviting to Werner to just stay at the ground behind the low brick wall. His legs got tired and his eyelids appeared like leaden weights to him. He felt his friend Hahn besides him, shaking him hardly to bring him back. But everything appeared to be very far away. With his very last mental reserves, Werner managed to bring his five senses back to reality. His ears still ached because of the explosion and clearly he could witness the engine sounds of the Polish tanks standing on the town square. But although the young Obergefreiter realized the hopelessness of the situation, his will to survive grew stronger with every moment.

"Verdammt Werner, wir müssen weiter zurück gehen, die Panzer sind sonst unser Ende. Komm schnell!", his friend Hahn yelled at Werner. Still a bit shaky, Werner pressed himself off the ground and quickly watched the situation around him. Several Germans were going back from the graveyard toward the church now, because the flood of Poles advancing out of the forest to the north just seemed to be unstoppable. Only some meters left of Werner, a Unteroffizier who had left his cover screaming in panic, got nearly ripped into two pieces by the bullets of a Polish machinegun. In the last very moment, Werner and Hahn joined the retreating soldiers, hastily jumping from cover to cover.

The pain in his shoulder had gotten nearly unbearable now, but just in the moment, Werner started tumbling, private Hahn grabbed him and half carried the wounded soldier the rest of the way back to the church. Only having a break behind the cover of the thick church walls for a few seconds, Werner whispered to his comrade: "Wenn jetzt nicht gleich ein Wunder passiert, wars das für uns. Scheiß Polen."

In the corner of his eyes, Werner realized Feldwebel Schneider together with the crew of another at- gun. These men had taken up positions at the nearly destroyed fountain in the middle of the town square, directly facing the last four advancing Polish tanks. It almost looked incredible, but a sudden burst turned the next Polish tank into a burning wreck, before the German cannon got directly hit by a high- explosive shell. It didn't look as if anyone of these brave soldiers had survived the impact. Three of the Polish tanks had been left now and they obviously had gotten really carefull. One of them even started to roll backwards, slowly retreating behind the ruin north of the town square. In the cloud of dust, Werner recognized Schneider again, who was ducking behind the fountain and angrily firing his MP in long bursts at the earth brown uniforms in front of him.

"Vorwärts, die Kameraden brauchen Hilfe. Bayonette aufsetzen Männer." In cheer surprise, Werner turned his head southwards, in search of the man who just had given these orders. The first thing he realized was the shape of a German StuG that slowly rolled over some bushes and fired shot after shot out of his short 7,5cm barrel. Directly following behind, Werner witnessed more and more infantrymen in the field grey uniforms of the Wehrmacht storming toward the square, most of them loudly screaming: " Hurrraaaaaaaa!".

Translations:

"Verdammt Werner, wir müssen weiter zurück gehen, die Panzer sind sonst unser Ende. Komm schnell!"
"Damned Werner, we really need to fall further back, these tanks will be our end otherwise. Come on, quickly."

"Wenn jetzt nicht gleich ein Wunder passiert, wars das für uns. Scheiß Polen."
"If there won't be some wonder happening, it'll all be over soon. Goddamned Poland."

"Vorwärts, die Kameraden brauchen Hilfe. Bayonette aufsetzen Männer."
"Forwards, the comrades need our help. Fix your bayonets soldiers."

[∬: Erik Schneider]

CLICK! CLICK! CLICK! "OH BUMSEN SIE!" The enraged Feldwebel roared as his MP38 delightfully informed him that he was out of ammo. Even with the mighty sound of German tanks echoing in the town square, Schneider wasn't safe. Not by a long a shot. Trapped between a rock and a hard place, the desperate Polish soldiers swarmed into the town square in hopes of escaping the flanking German reinforcements. With a flinging of curse words, Schneider felt himself rising up without thinking and hurling his weapon out into a grouping of Pollack troops. The butt of the weapon collided with a man's collar bone, knocking him onto his ass in a pleasant surprise.

It was not long before the baffled soldiers managed to figure out what happened and spotted the unarmed, furious German man behind the fountain. Sick of fighting and sick of the Polish troops who had caused so much harm to Schneider's men, the hot-headed Feldwebel stood firmly on his two feet. Even as men dropped to a knee to take a quick shot, he throw his arm forward pointing at some of the Polish. "BUMSEN! SIE!" The Feldwebel was yelling practically at the top of his lungs when the bullet caught him off guard. Why wasn't he expecting it? Standing there in plain view, screaming and hollering his ass off. Of course, some bastard was going to get a shot off. And of course, that shot was going to hit him.

The bullet impacted with his left shoulder, entering with a sharp, stinging pain. Not soon after, it exploded out the back of his shoulder and knocked him down from the pure force. He clutched his shoulder in pain and writhed around as the blood stained the palm of his hand. Curse after curse spewed out of his mouth, as his fingers tightened around his wounded shoulder. Slowly releasing his grip, he spotted a wave of gray uniforms wash over into the town square. A mixture of bayonet charging madmen and sub-machine gun toting bastards. In awe, the battered soldiers lying around the square joined with their comrades in a push to annihilate the Polish abandoned in the town.

Rolling over onto his knees, Schneider grunted and lifted himself up. A corpse riddled with bullets let the Feldwebel borrow his Kar with no fuss, already having attached the glorious German bayonet. The adrenaline was pumping through his blood again with fierce intensity as Schneider raised the bayonet and rejoined with the blood thirsty soldiers in the battle. In a blind, blood-lust charge Schneider found his victim relatively easy. He only prayed that he had not mistaken foe from ally. Thrusting the blade forward, the tip made contact with skin and bone. With all the force in his biceps, he plunged the dirty bayonet between two ribs, before pulling it out and striking again.

Panting heavily, the crazed man glanced around at the odd sight. Sweet vengeance in the form of a blade. Polish blood seeped into the cobblestone cracks of the square, staining their village ruby red. Polish soldiers screamed and cried as the gray soldiers plunged bayonet after bayonet into their chests. Oh sweet, sweet revenge.

A shocking rifle butt slashed out at Schneider from the corner of his eye, making contact with his helmet. With a clash, the helmet was hurled off his head and the Feldwebel went crashing down to the cobblestone with it. A earth-brown tunic shifted in view, the Pollack obviously anxious to go down with him. Schneider rolled over and caught the the man's rifle with his own, the wooden rifles clashing together like swords. The fight boiled down into who was strongest, the rifles constantly beating together as if swords. Schneider grunted and shifted his rifle upwards to the right, forcing the Polish rifle off from his own. In a clean sweep, he slit the man's throat and rolled him off to the side. "Bumsen…" He muttered, exhausted as he watched the man struggle to stop the bleeding. Dazed and confused, he let the violent fighting pass around him, amazed to still be alive.

Translations:

- "OH FUCK YOU!"

- "FUCK! YOU!"

- "Fuck..."

[Werner von Maybach]

In the moment, he heard the loudly yelling, German voices and saw the grimly forward storming Wehrmacht- men, Werner felt some kind of a strange relaxation inside himself. His knees started to get terribly shaky again and he just needed to sit down immediately. Carefully the Obergefreiter lent his back against the brick church wall now, fighting hard in a last attempt to keep his eyes open. The whole action around Werner blurred out and everything started turning around him.

Because of the shrapnel in his shoulder, the young German must have lost a lot of blood. The hastily affiliated bandage around Werner's chest and half of his uniform sleeve were already drained with gore. The whole tunic was covered with mud and at the left leg gaped a giant flaw in the field grey cloth. Only half conscious, Werner slowly opened up his canteen. His hand was hardly shivering and he poured more water over his tunic than he already managed to get into his mouth. But although the water was stale and only lukewarm, Werner enjoyed the refreshing liquid running through his dry throat. Instantly life was newly awakening inside him and he found enough energy to actually be able to realize what was happening around the church at all.

One single word flashed up within Werner's mind now: Victory. What a small word, but there isn't one more important in a men eating hell like this.

The loud hum of heavy plane engines brought him totally back to consciousness and with stopped breath, he recognized a formation of German Stukas flying low above his head. Only some meters besides Werner, a German soldier hold his signal gun aimed at the sky and fired three yellow flares in a fast sequence, to show the exact position of the German lines to the pilots in the cockpits of the bombers. The Ju- 87s passed and started to circle in the north of the town, looking for enemies like a bird of prey searching from a vantage point. Within only a few seconds, the pilots seemed to have found something interesting enough, as they now tilted their planes over the wings and nosedove toward their targets in a threatening looking speed. All the time while they attacked, the horns of the Stukas blurred in a soul-destroying volume, making Werner be really thankful for not having to stand on the Poles side right now. When the first bombs got dropped on the Poles, it felt to Werner as if the earth would be shaking. Within all the noise of fighting, one extremely loud bang stood out of the rest and echoed in Werner's ears for several seconds.

Still lost within the fascinating sight at the sky, Werner felt his comrade Hahn tapping on his shoulder. When he turned around, Werner saw his friend pointing his finger into a certain direction. In the forest to the north of Bjesalošiza a giant, black cloud of smoke rose to the sky, accompanied by several smaller explosions following up the first one. "Was für ein Rumms. Ich wette, das hat man doch bestimmt in Berlin auch noch gehört. War vermutlich ein Munitionslager oder sowas in der Art. Jetz bekommen die scheiß Polen endlich was Sie verdienen."

In the corner of his eyes,Werner witnessed a bunch of German infantrymen running over to the church wall, carrying some big, bulky radio equipment with them. In the safe cover of the church, they immediately put the radio on the ground. One of the soldiers, who seemed to be the operator of the radio and wore the rank tabs of a Feldwebel, started searching for contact with somebody, Werner had no idea of. More and more German soldiers stormed over the small town square now, while the Polish attack had turned into a hounded escape. As they were fleeing back into the forest, some of the Polish soldiers just threw away their rifles and their equipment in pure panic, trying to save nothing more than their pure lives. The German StuGs chased them without showing any signs of mercy, crushing the lifeless bodies of the dead under the brutal power of their tracks. Shell after shell left the short barrels and detonated in the fleeing hordes.

One of the radio- men looked over to Werner and Hahn, offering cigarettes to them, who both thankfully took one and didn't hesitate lighting them. But in his momentarily condition, the first pull burned badly inside his lungs and made Werner cough dryly. "Hier Stachel. Wespennest bitte hören, hier Stachel." After the radio operator had waited a short moment for a reply, he continued talking: "Die Stadt ist fast vollständig von unseren Truppen zurückerobert. Die 1. Batterie soll die nördliche Hauptstrasse mit Kreuzfeuer abriegeln, um den Pollacken den Rückzug abzuscneiden."

After the bad first pull, Werner had just started to enjoy his cigarette, when some medics appeared around the corner of the church. In their middle, they carried a small field- stretcher and Werner immediately recognized Feldwebel Schneider laying on the handbarrow. The medics hastily dropped the badly injured man to the ground besides some big, badly damaged gravestones and directly sprinted back to the combat zone, to try getting more wounded back into safety. There already lay some wounded Germans and some other medics walked around, trying to help here as fast as they could. Sitting within all this chaos, Werner thought of his own wounds to be much less important and so he refrained from turning to a doctor because of his own, badly wounded chest for the moment.

Translations:

"Was für ein Rumms. Das hat man ..."
"What a bang. I do bet, one could probably hear that even in Berlin. It was supposably an ammunition dump or something like that. Now those goddamned Poles will finally get what they do deserve."

"Hier Stachel. Wespennest bitte hören, hier Stachel."
"Here is Sting. Hornets nest, can you here me? Here is Sting."

"Die Stadt ist fast vollständig von ..."
"The town is nearly completely retaken by our forces. The first battery must seal the road to the north with crossfire immediately, cutting off the retreat for the Pollacks."

[∬: Erik Schneider]

A blissful peace washed over the Feldwebel, as his gaze shifted to that of the heavens. Around him, the town square was littered with corpses and a mixture of German and Polish soldiers struggling for their lives. Moments before, Schneider had taken a bullet near his shoulder, effectively "taking the breath" out of him. To his wonder, something he never imagined was inside of him, the man had been able to ignore the pain at least for a moment to join his brothers in one last charge. Now, he lay in his own pool of blood, two Pollacks lying at his feet as well. One had died a quick, peaceful death. The other, still struggled to breath as the blood poured out of his throat. His gurgled agonizing screams distracted Schneider, but did not alarm him.

Chuckling maniacally, his eyes lit up as a formation of Ju-87 dive bombers passed above his eyes. The aircraft was something of intrigue to Schneider, whose mind had never fully grasped the idea of flight. At least, the Wehrmacht soldier had never attempted to, he found no interest in being a pilot. His place was here, as a soldier on the frontlines. A bullet hole in one soldier and a bayonet slash near his hip, resting in his blood. Schneider had watched the dive bombers wreak havoc across the Polish countryside before during the Polish war, largely in part due to the inferior Polish airforce. His eager eyes watched the planes with a child's enthusiasm, lighting up at the sight of flares in the sky.

The formation of Ju-87s circled around to the north of the village, before finding a suitable target. The distinct wailing siren of the aircraft's nosedive pierced Schneider's already ringing ears. In the distance, there was a large explosion which shook the earth upon which Schneider lay. Or perhaps, that was his imagination. Or a pain induced reaction of his own body to his wounds. Nonetheless, he watched the black pillar of smoke rise into the clouds as if in pursuit of the German divebombers. Victory. Surely, this meant victory. Of not just Poland, but all of Germany's conquest. Adolf Hitler was a glorious leader, that much was clear. At that moment, Schneider decided he would follow his Fuhrer to the end of the world.

A small group of German soldiers cleared the square, thrusting already bloodied bayonets into the Polish survivors on the onslaught. Too many good men had been lost to the cowardly Polish that day. It was time to send a message. There was no mercy for those who stood in Germany's way. No mercy for those who retaliated. The will of the German Reich was to be obeyed. If he had any strength left in his body, Schneider would have joined his comrades. Blind with victory and hatred, Schneider would have committed unspeakable acts. The wounded Wehrmacht soldier lying in the town square of Bjesalošiza was just the beginning.

The Feldwebel was helped onto a field stretcher, before he was lifted off the ground. He felt weightlessness as his men carried him across the ravaged Polish town. A feeling of flying as he watched the glorious Ju-87s flight overheard, a large uproar of German cheering towards the Luftwaffe pilots. Towards the armored Stugs. Towards each other. A celebration had been well-earned. Schneider was hastily set down in a graveyard littered with critically wounded Germans. His wounds were excruciating painful, but he would live. The doctors could attend to those poor bastards that were in fatal conditions. Rolling his head off, he could make out the figure of von Maybach off in the distance. He smiled meagerly at the man, thoughts of the rough battle flashing back into his mind. And with the grin, he mouthed the word: "Victory" to Maybach.