17 January, 1944, 03:44 AM in GMT+3, a cold, snowy night.

The tank rolled up to the small hill at the edge of the snowy forest, overlooking the small village. The driver ensured to stop behind a small dirt mound, ensuring atleast some cover for the infantry which was sitting on the back of the tank as a manner of transport. Zaburdajev sat near the turret, overlooking the village ahead from atop. Two solid, quick knocks on the turret hatch was enough to get the crew to open it. “We will dismount here, please hand me a set of binoculars.” he said to the crew inside, after which he was handed a binoculars and he proceeded to take a good look at the village ahead. It seemed to be that there were quite a few guards active right now, patrolling around the cold desolate plains around the village. Some of the lights in the buildings were still on for the most part, but Ondrej couldn't quite decypher why they were still on. In the center part of the village he could make out the silhouette of a tank but it was quite unsure what type or what armament it fielded.

He turned around to face his crew -- Peter Zhavkovich, the radioman, Grigori, the medic, Jermija Turov, a machine gunner expert, Sergei Volkov, an assaulting soldier, and Leonid, a veteran from the civil war and the Russian recoverage of Polish lands. The faces had grown familiar over the course of the time they spent in Leningrad, and Ondrej had started to care for them. “Comrads, we are to assault this small village. I saw a few guards patrolling around, but we know these filthy Fascist rats. Their other soldiers are probably sleeping in a house that was owned by a Russian before all this. Let's make them pay for it.” He hopped off the back of the tank and beckoned Peter to come closer so he could use the radio. “High Command? We have reached the destination. We're ready for action.” A crackly voice replied from the somewhat old radio, stating that they are to wait for the second squad to arrive at the other side of the village to draw enemy attention to that side. It was a clear tactic, and it'd work with no doubt whatsoever.

Ondrej nodded to Peter before adressing the entire squad. “Another squad will lure the enemy to the other side so we can infiltrate without much attention drawn to us. We've been ordered to locate the German command post for this village, too. Somewhere there will be a house taken by them being used as a barracks, so we'll need to clear houses too. Understood?” He didn't wait for an answer and once again turned around to lay down near the mound, peaking over it until the other squad would attack. After about five minutes of laying in the cold snow, more snow piling on top of them due to the heavy snowfall, a voice crackled from the radio on Peters back. “This is high command. Commence the attack.” From the other side of the village gunshots were starting to rattle up -- firing into the village with DP machine guns and the characteristical Mosin Nagants. Ondrej stood up and signalled the tank to drive towards the village from the South-Eastern corner, where a house would give them cover until they were gonna roll in according to plan.

After the signal, Ondrej would move up with his squad in tow moving towards a road not too far from the South-Eastern corner, ordering Leonid and Sergei to the other side of the street while he and the rest stacked up on the left side. Quickly he shot a glance into the road -- all clear -- so he signalled everyone to move up through the street towards the village center, a large open area with sandbags readied by the Germans, however they were now abandoned due to the attack on the North side of the village. “Make sure you peek into the windows of houses, especially if there is lights. We need to find the barracks.” Ondrej said in a hushed voice. The squad was to naturally take up positions near the sandbags so that they could further estimate the requirements of the situation. But something messed up that plan, namely that the tank which was seen earlier hadn't moved to reinforce the north side but instead opted to remain in the village center to protect what one could only guess was the barracks and command centre. A large building, supposedly town hall, confirmed this and it was rather obvious now where the enemies command centre would be.

Once again Ondrej called Peter closer, and ordered him to get on the tanks communication frequency. After he would've done that, Ondrej quickly ordered the tank to drive up to the village center and alarmed him that there was a Tiger 1 tank, but that it was too far from the soldiers to be taken out by an AT grenade. “Command centre is located, though. Don't open fire yet, if we can we should get a silent entry into the command centre. I can't wait to slit throats of sleeping Rat's.” He turned to face his squad, which was waiting at the corner of a house for orders to move on to the sandbags. It was clear they'd be questioning why they wouldn't move up yet. “Tiger tank, comrads. It's about 60 metres from us.. anyone got any ideas?” Ondrej was contemplating sending one or two of the soldiers around to the North side to help the other squad there by shooting at the Germans from the back, in order to give them a reason to send the Tiger 1 over to the North, but perhaps one of these soldiers had a plan.

17 January 1944, 03:45 AM, Nym-Storovje.

The Germans tended to become more paranoid when it started snowing. They weren't particulairly well equipped for the harsh winters, and with the temprature reaching many degrees below zero, someone had to constantly be on watch and keep the fire in the barracks going. If the fire went out, they would freeze and die in their sleep. It wasn't a bad way to go, but they weren't planning on dying anytime soon. Every man, woman or child is driven by an instinct to survive. Even when you're left in the cold in the middle of nowhere with little to no food left, you're going to try and stay alive for as long as you can. You would think that at some point they would just break and give in, the weather is so cold that they can barely get their weapons to function, let alone a tank. Every single night for the last couple of weeks i've got to watch and enjoy one of these pathetic excuses for a human being walk out in the freezing cold to use the little bit of firewood and fuel they had left to make a fire near their tanks, just to make sure the engines of their precious machinery didn't freeze. Tonight wouldn't have been any different, but apparantly fate decided that their existence was about to come to an end. When the same soldier with the same old rusty can of fuel started making his rounds and got to the last tank, a shot was fired and the can in his hand exploded. The explosion spilled the burning liquid over him. And I watched him burn and die while he layed in the snow. I watched as he desperatly tried to extinguish the flames, screaming and crying as his existence slowly came to an end. He was going to die in a field in the middle of nowhere, deep in the Russian countryside, nobody would be there to remember his name, his family would never know what happened to him. He will die a meaningless and painfull death for a thousand year reich that will never come to be. Only the death see the end of war.

Artyom had trouble sleeping and was wide awake when the German soldier started doing his rounds. He watched as the soldier got struck and the gasoline spilled over him and engulfed him flames. He knew what was going on, the Russian offensive had finally started. He could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins and quickly uncovered the secret stash of equipment he had hidden. By the time he was fully prepared, the Germans had already taken up defensive positions around town. He concluded that the sound of gunfire was coming from the north, so that would be the most heavily defended side of town. Unfortunately the Germans weren't stupid and had begun setting up defenses in the south, east and west as well, all though fewer in number. Artyom stayed inside the small house in the center of town, knowing that he would be shot on sight if he left the building. He didn't know the scale of the Russian offensive and whether or not any tanks were involved. The Germans had tanks hidden through out the town, their most valuable and strongest tank was right outside his door. A Panzerkampfwagen Tiger Ausf. E, more commonly known as the Tiger tank.

A steady flow of gunfire was exchanged by both sides of the conflict, much more so by his comrades in arms. The Germans seemed to pretend to be few in number, which would mean that most of the German soldiers would stay in cover and hide untill the Russians advanced. Then they would come out of cover and lay down deadly fire from both their machine guns and the hidden tanks in town to quickly repel and disorganise the attacker. Artyom wasn't about to move yet, untill the Tiger's gunner started to fire. He couldn't see where but he knew that the soldiers on the receiving end of this barrage would be in trouble. After opening his door ever so slightly he saw the gunner firing towards the south-eastern part of the town, most of the bullets riddeld the houses and sandbags. The large gun of the Tiger moved and took aim at the house next to the sandbags, ready to fire its first shell to blow up the soldiers near or inside the building.

Ondrej and his squad could see a figure emerge from a building, he appeared to be armed with nothing but a rifle or submachine gun The figure dashed past the back of the tank to avoid the attention of the crew within. Once the figure had climbed upon the tank the vision of him was blocked. Seconds went by before figure jumped back off the tank and scrambeled for cover. A large explosion erupted at the top of the tank, blasting through the hatchet and seriously injuring the soldiers inside, the figure quickly got up on his feet and jumped back upon the tank, only to stick his machine gun into the now open hatchet and fire a deadly stream of bullets inside to kill anyone left alive. The Tiger tank now knocked out of action, with its crew dead and a trail of smoke coming from the top. The figure on the turret exchanging a few more shots towards the northern side of town before briefly ducking for cover. The turret of the tank now getting riddeld with bullets from the German side, forcing the figure to jump off the tank and withdraw to the western part of town, away from the center to seek cover.

Darkness, A wintery darkness wasn't uncommon in Russia but with the Germans in their homes it seemed darker, the snow flakes seemed to dance like a ballet that would go on for three seasons and then stop somewhere in between. Things seemed almost peaceful but the sounds of the tanks engines and the nervous mutterings cut through the frigid air like a knife and seemingly reverberated inside Peter's brain. But if he noticed he didn't seem to care as he was trapped inside the thoughts inside his head and trapped on another battlefield.

This city was a ruin the Germans artillery had pounded their positions throughout the day and night, and Peter and a few others had been sent in without rifles too help turn the tide. Their first stop was to hit a trench that had been dug by the Germans and had been taken Earlier that night, so they ran most of the recruits were in ill-fitting stolen German boots so some slipped and were gunned down by MGs, Peter was lucky to dodge the MG fire that sent sprays of dirt and snow into the air he hit the trench and landed face down into a puddle of something red and sticky. Upon closer examination it was the blood of Germans and His comrades commingled in this trench, this trench was thick with blood it even seeped into his boots there must of been inches of it. That's when he heard someone calling "Dimitry, Dimitry come here." He looked around and spotted a radioman who was wounded in the trench and it seemed to be only Peter and this Radio man in the trench so he pointed at himself.

"Yes you Dimitry come here." The radioman called Peter walked over "My names not Dimitry, it's Peter." "Shut up everyone's named Dimitry he's named Dimitry shes named Dimitry everyones Dimitry." The radioman replied his voice rough. "I'm dying Dimitry." The radioman continued, "Shall i call a medic?"
"No, i know they cannot help me, I must teach you how to use my radio Dimitry. You hit this button to talk to command and these dials change frequencies so like this." The radioman showed him how to dial command and other radios "Then you speak into it like this, Command why don't you send alcohol rations to me anymore?" A bored voice on the other end spoke "Because you drink them all Ivan."
"Bull shit that's not a reason."
"Get off the radio if it isn't important Ivan." The radioman let the radio go and pushed it towards Peter who took it and strapped it to his back. "There you go Dimitry, now you are a killing machine." Peter got up to run for the next bunch of cover but the radioman stopped him "No Dimitry stay with me it is my dying wish." So Peter stayed and talked with the man the last questions were questions of family. "Do you have a family Dimitry?"
"Well i have a mother and a fath-"
"No no no Dimitry, do you have a wife and children."
"No..."
"When this war is over and you survive find a nice girl and breed like rabbits." Peter took this thought into consideration, this guy was obviously crazy but he had some pretty sound advice, Peter just chopped it up to Russian humor at it's finest. "Do you have family Ivan?' The boy asked, "I do, i have a wife and a five year old child, i hope they are safe and i hope we win this war so things can go back to normal. The only thing i regret is i will not see little Anton grow up." Peter couldn't help but feel for this man he was dying after all and his last thoughts were of home. Dimitry stayed by the mans side until he bled out, the Russian dirt taking his comrades blood there was still life in this man but barely Peter found himself shouting "Medic, Medic, Medic!!!" But by the time the medic came Ivan was gone another patriot claimed in the motherlands defense.

Peter remembers that day like it was yesterday, from then on it's been trudging through snow, dirt, and blood from one battle to the next. "When will it end." He thought bitterly, he was tired of fighting, he hadn't killed a man yet and he wanted it to remain that way. When they reached their destination Peter was pulled around by the commissar as he used his radio. He felt like a leashed dog, but he didn't say anything as he knew what commissar's did to soldiers who questioned. Their orders were to push through a small town and take out the German command center in the center of town, Peter readied his rifle and prepared with his comrades to descend into the gaping maws of another battle.

Jermjia sat outside of the tank as it came to a halt. The assignment of taking a German Village was a good chance for him to see the field, and also a nice change of pace. His days in the outpost haven’t done him that much favours and overall, he relishes the chance to join the 116th rifle division.

Jermija gripped onto his DP Machine Gun as he looked the village, he nodded to four men that were near him. One of them was carrying a mortar, and the other carrying some ammo. While the last two men were carrying machine guns. “Comrade, we should to head to the East Side and provide mortar and recovery fire” stated one of the males. Jermija nodded casually as he looked to the village. His major worry was the German reinforcement, and how long the four men can hold out. “Ja, we shall go.” Stated Jermjia as the men began, crouching down.

Jermjia and his comrades arrived in a crouched position, on the eastern side of the village. The mortar was set up rather fast and the two men have taken position around it. The other two men moved to opposite sides of the mortar, Jermjia did the same. The mortar then casually begin to fire a few shells at the village, time and time the mortar rang its loud shells. Screams were heard as the mixture of gunfire and tank shells created total chaos for the Germans. Jermija moved along with the two other gunners, and using the mortar shells to their advantage started firing at some of the fleeing Germans. They held out near to the Eastern Flank, as the machine gun rounds roared towards the Germans, confused by the barrages of tank shells and mortar shells.