"Near the city of Bastogne" Countryhumans

"Operation :Autumn fog"

America doesn't like it here: a strong Blizzard wind that stabs your face, snowdrifts almost up to your knees, it's too cold. He was not used to the cold, nor was he used to starving for several days. For the second day, the stomach is rumbling wildly, which probably attracts the attention of the sights of German automatons. He needs to eat a couple of times more than the average soldier to feel confident, being the strongest and greatest country in the world, because he has no competition at all. Ever since the First world war, when Britain swallowed its pride and asked for help from its depleted army. But this was a long time ago, and even then the world vowed to sit still, not to arrange any conflicts, for the most part affecting the whole world, as if digesting all the lessons of the great war. But it is clear that with the fall of the German Empire, and then the Weimar Republic, in the minds of the German people again rattled patriotism, in particular in one Austrian, a failed artist who considers himself a true German. Eh...
The evening of a frosty December day is approaching. This division of the United States has already participated in several skirmishes and is fairly battered in previous battles, as well as the other two. Another divisional trio arrived with new forces, holding back the onslaught of the enemy. The 150-kilometer front was held by six American divisions. The country adjusts its glasses, which it does not remove even in battle, and goes to the camp broken by its military, taking an outstretched iron flask from one of them. He sits down next to me on a small folding chair, sniffing and shivering — clothes almost do not warm, and his feet are wet. After sitting there for about half an hour, he sighs and goes to his tent, which is completely blown by the wind. We must endure, we must drive the Germans back.

The third Reich tries to focus on the upcoming attack, but the Fuhrer's voice keeps ringing in his head: "the Battle will have to be fought with all the cruelty, the enemy's resistance must be broken. In this most serious hour for the Fatherland, I demand from every soldier of mine courage and courage again. The enemy must be defeated-now or never! Germany will live!". For a long time, this statement does not allow you to think about something else. Patriotism boiled over in the country after the meeting at the narrow table in the bunker, to which the commanders of military formations were invited. Oh, then the Gestapo scoured him from head to toe. The offensive itself was postponed for another day. The sixteenth of December is the final date, provided that the weather does not allow enemy aircraft to take to the air, according to the Fuhrer. How lousy it is to realize that there is probably nothing to fix. Reich lowers his head on the table and unconsciously squeezes the papers lying next to him, covered with his own handwriting. For a moment, he is overcome by despair, and loosens his grip, but suddenly breaks and sweeps everything off the table in one fell swoop. Americans! His fucking borders! Heck! The Nazi runs out of the headquarters, having previously miraculously not slipped on the documents scattered by him. Runs to the tanks. To the giant tanks lined up in rows. The third Reich finds the standartenfuhrer there and loudly declares: - we Move out this night! And sleepy Americans will immediately scatter, run like cockroaches — at the end of the phrase, he tries not to openly laugh, imagining it. But then he becomes serious, looks around, beckons the tall Colonel to come closer — And another task, personally from me. Try to find a representative of the country — America itself — and breaks into a snide smile.

Three German armies-250,000 men and thousands of vehicles-have been secretly moved to their initial positions. The clang of tracks was drowned out by low-flying planes. By midnight, everything was ready for the start of the offensive. The soldiers shiver with cold, but listen with enthusiasm to the message of field Marshal von Rundstedt. And at five-thirty in the morning, fire and smoke erupts all over the front. Mines explode, rockets hiss, hundreds of tanks rumble, and heavy guns mounted on railway platforms bring down a barrage of artillery fire on American positions. The US still doesn't even have time to Wake up properly, as it grabs a rifle at its side, puts on a helmet and flies out. The face shows nothing but horror and confusion. For a moment, he is paralyzed by fear and not knowing what to do. He just clutches a weapon when his army is out of control. Some soldiers rush to the anti-tank guns, of which there are only a dozen, and start shooting back. Suddenly, the division commander slaps me on the shoulder, ordering me to run, hide, and wait for reinforcements. But he literally doesn't hear it. His eyes are all fixed on the approaching planes and tanks. Caught by surprise. Where did the intelligence look?! They try to pull him by the shoulder, but he doesn't come out. Instead of escaping, America runs up to the Sherman and yells for the tankers to follow. Those, without thinking, rush to the tank and climb into it. The US itself takes the place of the gunner, says to immediately maneuver the "Panther", which stands out more against the background of other German cars. He wants to distract the Germans while the division is rearming and digging in. A small tank company of Americans moved on the enemy giants. America commands to go around the tank rushing at them, in parallel with this turning the barrel.Suddenly there is a sharp push in the left side. The shell of the rapidly deployed Panther strikes a powerful blow at the Central part of the body of the American car. There is a strong resonance inside. It seems that the ears will float brains mixed with blood. He comes to his senses only when someone starts either ramming the tank, or Vice versa, to pull away. I can't see anything. There was only the sickening smell of blood and burning. And suddenly, the terrible guesses of the United States are confirmed — the crew is dead. A sharp cold runs through the body of the survivor. He somehow managed to survive, even though he was injured. There is nothing to breathe here, smoke rises, and everything blurs before your eyes, but the benefit of the glasses somehow remained in place. The noise from above doesn't stop. America understands that you can't stay like this for long. He gropes for his comrade's gun and abruptly, overcoming a savage pain, opens the hatch of the car, climbing out. The country goes into a dry cough, inhaling poisonous smoke, and lands on its knees on the frozen snow-covered ground. "Get away, get out of sight" is the only thought. But after he finally got out, it was immediately clear that he couldn't go far anyway. The American stands up heavily, leaning on a blackened, Smoking Sherman ,but his legs don't obey him well and don't hold him up much. With a trembling hand, he puts the gun in his pocket, turns around, and tries to walk with small steps. A shot is heard from behind, and the bullet hits the left shoulder. America falls, holding out her hand as if to soften the fall. The dark glasses are moving a little, and now everyone can see his impotent tears. German soldiers quickly surround him, and he covers his eyes.