Lost Panzer

1

The shining rays of light dissected by the barred factory windows slowly flooded Peter's vision as he opened his eyes. Around him, the sounds of men shuffling across the concrete floor grew louder and louder. Distant sounds of the machine guns became clearer and closer. The moans of the wounded and dying filled his ears. Shakily, he sat up, the rough rag that he had been using as a blanket fell to the floor around him. He put a hand up to his head, wincing as his fingers drifted across the bruise. His mouth tasted like something died in it and his legs felt stiff and brittle. Using the nearby crate as a crutch, he got up to his feet. On the crate was a pistol, an iron cross second class, and a pocket watch that showed the time was nine. Peter's eyes widened in surprise. He had told his troops that not a second would be wasted, and here he was sleeping until the sun was high up in the sky. Quickly, he gathered his belongings on the crate and donned his officer field jacket.

"Kommandant." A voice called to him.

"Karl! There you are. Why didn't you wake me?" Peter said, turning around to face his lieutenant. "We are in a crucial situation. Cut off and in this unfavorable terrain."

"You went to sleep at three. You haven't got a wink since the operation started. We need an officer who is not half dead." Karl replied. He pulled out a canteen of coffee and a telegram report. "For you, sir."

His current condition was quite bad. But Germany's situation in general was even worse. He had heard of the Bolsheviks breaking through Poland. The Balkans were collapsing. The allies were pressing in from the West and South. After all, you don't put an officer that haven't even finished graduation from the military academy as a battalion commander immediately. Peter had come from a long line of Prussian nobles. His parents were able to secure his placement in a prestigious military academy. Although at first, he was consistently a slacker who worried more about his social life than school, the seriousness of adult life gradually awakened him, he focused his efforts on studying and was able to advance to the top of his class. Seeing his potential, he was given a high-ranking position and quickly sent to the Italian front as the commander of a panzer battalion. The previous commander had been killed in action and the former veterans of the battalion had been slowly replaced with fresh recruits who barely knew how to operate tanks. He was soon placed in charge of this semi militia battalion. Many of his men and superior officers had doubted his commanding abilities, citing that his age was even under the regular conscripting requirements. But he had proved his skill with panzers on several battles in Italy. His enemies had been shocked that the commander wielding such precise panzer movements was a mere boy. In fact, many of the American commanders refused to believe the Intel at first. However, as the situation grew more and more dire in France and the low countries, his division was told to reinforce weak lines that the Allies was easily punching through. He was promoted to the leader of a regiment due to lack of competent officers still alive in the army. Soon after his arrival, an order to counterattack the American lines in Belgium had been given and his regiment had been called to attack along with the rest of the panzer division. Advancing through a narrow road at night, the panzer regiment had stopped at a small town. Peter had set up his headquarters in the derelict radio factory, expecting an allied counterattack immediately. Unbeknownst to Peter, the regiments on his flanks were destroyed by allied reinforcements, who were now pressing in on the town. Peter continued pressing his Panzers forward, taking a road junction and another small town in the process. Then, he had received that fateful report that sporadic firefights broke out near the outskirts of the town. Within hours, he was under heavy assault and he was forced to retreat the remaining garrison out of the town and set up a defensive position next to the factory.

"Thank you, Karl." Peter said, taking the coffee and the report. He read the report. His brows furrowed in frustration. The regiments along his flanks had been pushed further back than he originally thought. High command has given the order to fall back. He was to turn his panzers around and break through the encirclement to return to friendly lines. Peter cursed and put down his coffee. "Situation report please." Peter asked. Karl handed him a map which Peter promptly unfurled and laid out on the crate. They both leaned over the handdrawn map, inspecting for any possible weak points in the enemy lines.

"Here," Peter pointed at a small forest surrounding the western edge of the factory.

"Are you sure sir?" Karl asked. "We would be heading deeper into the American lines."

"We have to. The other areas are too well defended. Once we are on the move we can fight our way back to Rundstedt." Peter replied packing up the map. "Plus, relief from the allied bombers overhead would be good for our panzers."

"Very well then, I will inform the troops." Karl turned around to leave.

Peter walked towards the garage, his hands in his pockets. On his way there, his thoughts drifted towards his lieutenant. He was making his way through the fortifications of the Siegfried Line on his jeep to join up with the rest of his regiment when he had passed through a friendly Hitlerjugend detachment. Marching on the dusty roads was an assortment of children even younger than himself. But he had recognized one of them. On the spot, he ordered his driver to stop the jeep. Greeting the officer in charge of this Hitlerjugend battalion, he requested to talk with one of the troops. The request was immediately granted and Peter was able to reunite with his long time childhood friend.

As he passed through the factory, resting soldiers with rifles in their hands gave weary salutes. Engineers carried important parts to conduct field repair and a logistics officer was directing the procedure.

"Brumm, how much supplies do we have?" Peter asked,

"Enough to last 2 days." Brumm replied.

Peter continued on his way. Passing the improvised medical wing, Peter heard the cries and moans of the wounded. He stepped through the white curtains, which was stained with blood, and greeted the medics. Pulling out his canteen, he gave water and reassurances to the soldiers lying on the floor. He stepped out again and opened the steel door into the loading bay of the factory. The former loading bay now acted as a garage for his panzers. A Panzer V with a radio attachment was being repaired. Seeing the commander's presence, the engineers stopped and faced towards Peter.

"Are the panzers done repairing?" Peter asked.

"Most of the panzers are completed, your command panzer's radio was broken but we have repaired it with the radio parts found in the factory."

"Good, pack up your gear. We are breaking out of this mess."