Prologue 1/4

January 27th 1943

" It has been one year... one long, bloody and terrifying year. I have suffered more in this place then anywhere else on the battlefield. A horrid consistently of gun fire and rockets screaming into the night, the once great city now in ruins!. The Reds are closing in on all sides, our freedom is just a flickering light, just far away from our grasp.

Fire and smoke now leave this city like an open wound. The fires burning long into the night sky and the sound of Stalins Organ playing over our heads!. Never would I thought to have lived this long. The waves of flesh smashing into our lines never ending as we are pushed back. A constant gang war! Over pieces of rubble and streets that are not worth of spilling blood!... How many has died taking this land and constantly pulling the lines as if it was some sick game of tug of war?. Too many good honest men and young spilled there blood... German blood on lands that aren't even worth it.

The Russians are using the sewers like the rats they are. Constantly running throughout the city like a plague, thrusting there rusted blades through honest German blood. I will make them pay with every bullet, with every body that just keeps piling up. I will take as many as long as I breathe."

January 28th 1943

"I'm not sure how long we can hold this city, with our lines pushed too far back, away from the river front. Ivan has used this and the winter months to bolster his lines! pressing hard against us, driving us further away and locking us in a stalemate. That is reliant… no dependent, on attrition. Snipers roam the city free for there will, scouring from advantage point to locations suitable for there prowess. Picking off high valued officers and troops. Our efforts in countering the snipers has met there ends in various locations and our high ranking ace sniper. Has met his end by the Russian hero named Vassili, when the bolshevik began another assault taking more territory pushing us even farther. I always have to watch the buildings and the rubble fearing that a crosshair is on my back when I'm out in the open.

And the worse has yet to come!. Our armour lie in smouldering wrecks, bombers and fighter bombers of German and bolshevik machines alike litter the streets and buildings. With all the territory we have claimed over the course of a year! all of it was for nothing, not even a dam Iron cross can hold much over the others, the fallen are awarded with wooden crosses… it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth now. This is worse then operation Unternehmen Barbarossa!. It was hell as we retreated, me and a small armoured convoy where split off from our main SS division. They chased us across the country nearly one hundred kilometres southwest. Our petrol almost ran dry until we bumped into the Herr group B. Our division was needed back at Germany for another assignment. But we choose to stay with the 4th panzer division and the 6th army.

The beginning of our campaign went smoothly our attack breached through. Driving them back with every hour and within five months we held control over the city. My men and I held no mercy towards our enemies anymore, with every Russian filth we find the opportunity, we seized it to execute them. Hanging there body's and when we found out that some of the refugees are against us... so too will they share the same fate. It dose not matter anymore as I'm covered with lice, my uniform stenches like powder, blood and filth. My uniform lost its glory two months ago now faded and shown of well use, I have not received an replacement in over a month. With all the ash and dirt sticking on me irritating the skin and my wounds. The smell of death and war weighs heavily in the air killing my nose. The smell of blood, iron, brass and powder is nothing but a reminder of where I am now. Holding on to a thread.

The men are slowly losing moral with every bolshevik we killed, there's always more to fill in the gap with an empire such as Russia there are more bodies then guns. I even witnessed how there commanding officers treated the civilians with little training and a lacklustre of rifles. There's so many lying around now but I fear we have awoken a beast... slowly sinking its teeth and claws into our flesh pulling us down.

I can feel my will withering with everything that has happened in this god forsaken hellish war torn city!. Nothing lives only the mark of our flags and high tell signs of a firefight. Empty shell casings littered and piled high in homes of worthless last stands.

Fear has risen throughout the ranks and my small platoon. Retreating deep into the western city where a Cathedral stood slightly disturbed from the conflict deep within this bloody graveyard. It's location is better as it is protected from the front, originally this was where our artillery pieces stood shelling across the river and into it. They now lay long forgotten or left behind from our haste, wide open fields in a circular manner. Trenches barbwires and mines strategically placed in the eastern and northeast direction. The reason we retreated here was the location to get out and it severed as an artillery pool and the large convoy ready to evacuate everyone that made it here. Those that did not make it are lost or fighting off the mongrels to stall them in this god forsaken city.

I could hardly believe this we were on the attack then defence... and now we are turning tail and running for our lives! Ha... back to the safety of our defensive positions or regrouping for an counterattack.

Worse is that Ivan is trying to put a red ring of steel around this city!. They are hot on our heels... this may be the last time I may write today. I hope to the führer that our sacrifice has paid enough blood and that my death may be swift and painless."

Putting down the pen and journal while his spectacles placed inside a steel case. His grey faded uniform filled with holes and torn. The man was in his late twenties his dry dirty blond hair covered in ashes. His helmet well worn, scratched, grazed and his blue eyes dulled the lost of life far gone from the years. His features is nothing but a tired battle hardened worn face. A strong jaw line with a soft look covered in dirt, grime and dry blood. Standing tall at five feet four inches, his body malnourished due to supply's cut off and pulled away, when the fighting turned in the past month.

the Cathedral he sat in was largely intact most of the glass was still standing unbroken. The men that ran to and fro with crates of supplements, tools and munitions. There spirits… there body language held fear a loss that hit everyone hard. At the back where the altar stood now had a large map of the city was on, the wall lights over head and on the walls flickered here and there. It made the Cathedral alive but nothing short of a dying man taking in his last moments, the men rushed taking what they needed for the evacuation. An Officer stood above a crate preparing as he called out gathering the attention from everyone.

"Men… I have terrible news, the bolshevik's are advancing too quickly towards our position! The ones tasked to hold them back has been completely annihilated and broken. Gather what we have here, So leave the guns and ammunition take as many fuel as the vehicles can carry. We are leaving immediately!. But we need more volunteers to stay behind, to give us time to safely make it out of this forsaken city."

A large out burst came from the men yelling and shouting as to who will stay behind.

"I'll stay behind" one yelled out sitting next to one of the many glass panes "me too." Another spoke "I'm just too tired to run I'll stay too."

one by one old veterans stood or grabbed there weapons and finally. The pressure in side his breast was to great as he took his PPSH "I'm staying here and holding this line... even if it is to give you a fighting chance!"

Fifty eight men, fifty eight brothers, staying behind to stall the Russian mongrels. He watched and he stood tall, watching them pile into the half tracks and Ople blitz trucks.

sitting quietly, silently praying for there safe exit. The officer stood amongst them as he too chosen to stay with them. In a futile effort to stall Ivan with what they have.

A panzer III ausf H stood in the middle of the Cathedral. Signs of unfinished work with the engine out, hanging in chains. The engine block swayed slightly from its chains, left to rot in this harsh winter air.

With time against them, some started to set up some tripods and moving a pak 38 (L/60) towards the right side of the door. The blown out wall was perfect for the pak 38, having a clear line of sight and unimpeded firing ring of hundred eighty degrees, greatly covering the front. Troops gathered any rubble to set up a makeshift shielding around the gun and there positions.

Thirty four ventured into the trench, taking care that they aren't spread too thin. The entrenchment was dug in placed, stretching in a hundred eighty degrees around the front of the cathedral facing the east. It was a perfect tunnelling network made by German hands, the Cathedral held four heavy machine gun emplacements from the safety of the Cathedrals stone walls.

The crates left behind held several weapons, new to be exact, inside lay the newest frontline weapons. The Geweher 41 with some scopes and the newest machine gun the 42 but only two where available.

Most of the men holding Kar98k's traded for the Geweher 41 taking as much strip clips. others took hold of belt Fed munitions stocking up there empty pouches. Five grenadiers took the light 34 machine gun, placing them selfs around the entrenched Cathedral. The men took time placing there equipment down and handing out potato mashers.

Jurgen Weiss took hold of 5 cm Pzgr. shells the freezing brass sapping the heat away for a bittersweet frost. They where stacked dangerously in a pile. He took the time placing the high explosive .38 shells in a more protected area, the panzergranate munitions of 40 and the 39 near the pak38 anti-tank gun.

The silence that hung in the air was unnerving for the troops. Without the constant sounds of skirmishes or the screams of rocket batteries. The only sound that came was snow crunching under there boots, the clinking of brass rubbing each other on the belts men whispering to each other. This deathly, silent of a torn city clawed at there souls, begging them to join in this graveyard. No sounds, just the still quiet of the light snow fall the winds began to howl through the ruins. No shells falling or the cracks of rifles, no Russian screaming out for blood and screaming sounds of rockets absent.

"This is bad... really bad" Jurgen could not keep the dread coming from his voice, his hands shaking from the anticipation then the cold biting into his flesh. as the silence drew longer as it was taking hold over this dead city.

"I know komrade, it's the calm before the storm. Quickly go back to the church and grab a case of pocket artillery." He spoke lowly while gently pushing him back towards the trench. Without a word he swiftly trended through the maze. Soldiers spread sparsely through the trenches clothing barely keeping the cold at bay as some had raggedy coats, cloths wrapped tightly around there hands and wrists.

"komrade I need more belts here get me some and a few grenades!" Nodding his head in acknowledgement. The snow began to fall over the now growing grey covered sky, the temperature begging to drop with every few minutes. There breathing letting out small puffs of steam while others having cloth wrapped around there ears to keep warmth and muffle the ensuing battle. The Cathedral its self stood tall as its window panes where shattered and broken... it's broken state and busts where silently watching the men prepare for the end.

The silence was slightly disturbed by an echoing sound. It rang clear into the air and throughout the city. Slowly it grew louder the faintest sounded familiar, it was no mistaking the grinding treads of a T34 panzer, soon followed by the barking of dogs. The fear that gripped the troops, they stilled there breaths held in anticipation, there blood freezing from the cold grip of hell upon there door step.

Not daring to look behind himself, he quickened his pace through the tunnelling network. Reaching the cathedrals wall, entering the gaping wound in the wall. Boots clacking on rubble and stone, they scattered in his haste. Stopping near the altar where several crates and containers, he gathered the munitions and model24 potato mashers. When he could not carry anymore then he needed. Belts slinging over his neck and shoulders a box filled to the brim, bullets filled his pouches and replacement barrels hanging onto his straps followed by a case of grenades.

Rushing carefully into the trenches relinquishing the extra munitions he carried. To every brother, he handed them a single grenade as he passed. The There sights on the outskirts of the field where the city began and surrounded them from five hundred meters.

"Henkel I got an extra belt and a few grenades for you." Jurgen spoke pulling his Russian machine pistol out. Gripping the charging bolt, he pulled back cocking his machine pistol. Gently resting his drum mag on the snow and dirt. Henkel gathered the ammunition and barrels, he carefully placed the seven stick grenades between them.

Unlocking the MG34's cover checking the mechanical gas operating system. Seeing it free from dirt and grime. Pulling the belt out of the case as brass clinked with one another. Fitting the first of many closing the cover and bumping it twice before cocking once then twice as the first bullet fell into the snow. Gently he rested his hand against his the stock and his shoulder.

All of them waited for the inedible end. The city that once stood before them, was cracked and devastated. Slowly a red flag came above the highest debris and rubble, a commissar stood there. Chanting could be heard and a rousing speech loud and clear echo out from the man. The Soldiers steeled there resolve for the last time, ignoring the growing cries of the devils. They paid no mind only checking there equipment and seeing who was around them for the last time. Like a dam bursting or the severe storm from the sea. The troops gripped there weapons tightly the only sound was weapons clacking and cocking.

A red swarm flooded over the stone and ruins from the city. The only word that could describe the mass of infantrymen was close towards a disturbed hornets nest. They charged head long into the small defiant brothers there cries of battle and rifles cracking out. They where closing the gap slowly, and the closer they charged the more ferocious they roared as a Red banner carrier charged head long in the front. The thin steel of a bayonet was at the ends of there rifles, rifles raised and cracking adding into there fury.

The Germans did not waver though as they knew there was no escaping. There breaths steady, calm hands gripping there rifles and LMG's. Four hundred meters away the Russians charged on without fear but only with hate. A fire in there eyes burned furiously within there hearts, over the bloodshed spilled within this massive grave.

Three hundred meters was where the swarm drew into the line. Without warning or mercy the ground bursted open, launching a small sizeable cylindrical can into the air by half a meter.

The can detonated in mid air. The thin layer cylindrical sheet expanded from the kinetic force within, small steel marbles shredded through the thin layer. Small and numerous they flew just after the shockwaves washed over flesh and cloth. The shiny steel marbles seething hot, flew at an extreme speed, piercing… no tearing into the flesh like a ravenous animal. The impact where the marble pierced shook the flesh open, tearing the tissue and mussels alike before connecting with bone shattering or ripping them to splinters. The Shock wave pushed against the Russians away from the epicentre before more leaped from the snow and dirt. Germany's finest, the blood of the Fatherland took the initiative, flashes of rifles and machine guns storm out a lead of rain down upon the bolshevik.

Screams blood curdling screams left from those animals, the red army scrambled for the dirt in an attempt to have cover in the open field. The sound of a bullet shredding into the flesh and bone, torn from high caliber rifle rounds was sickening. And the sight of a man's leg arm or his torso being gutted and dissected, how the tissue ripped off from the impact or the muscle pulled apart. With bone turned into powder or splinters, and the organs painfully mauled or turned into paste lungs ceasing to work or being spilt onto the reddening snow the slightest of steam escaping the now cooling organs. The blood that sprayed out from there backs when a round successfully exited the body towards the next destination. The whirlwind of led and mines having the desired effect from the demoralizing first wave.

The remaining or surviving reds took what ever cover to hide from the fury of led. But none could be found in the open lands, leaving them open to the Iron eagles claws. Some of the reds took hold of the dead twisting them to use as make shift cover. They returned fire when ever they can, most of there shots going wide or hitting hard cover. The Germans hiding behind there solid cover as riflemen took calculated shots towards the rear guard, the assault troops and Machine gunners took out the front.

Over the sound of combat and screams was faint. but with a well trained ear or battle hardened veteran knew of the distinctive sound of rumbling stone and grinding treads. This sound was clear over the gunfire and the few knew what was coming. "Herr Panzer! T34!" One screamed out. The T34 bursted through a stone wall it's turret facing towards the rear, the red star painted on the side with a bold white line. The engine roared strongly as it pushed over the wall, soon troops flooded forth from the new opening. The turret began to rotate towards there line, soon the armoured beast pushed its engine getting a roar of heavy smoke. Moving forth towards it's destination and Russian troops getting on the back. Rushing towards there positions coaxial and bolshevik guns firing wildly into their trenches and the Cathedrals walls. The T-34 drove over the minefield setting them off for minimal effect. It came within a hundred meters stopping on the right side of there defences. The tank riders jumping off to storm the dug in brothers.

The hull and coaxial machine guns tore through three grenadiers, yelling and screaming out from pain. Other volks and grenadiers switched there sights on the riders. An Mannschaften grabbed hold of A Panzernacker it's powerful magnets and cone shaped charge. Once the bolshevik threat was slaughtered he ran out from his cover, charging towards the right side of its blind spot. Bullets flew around him when Ivan found out his plan, when he jumped out from the safety of the trench. His footing made contact on unstable land, falling a bullet grazed his shoulder and his rifle left behind.

With every step he made coming closer towards the tank, reaching out he pulled out the explosive preparing the knacker, managing to get to the T34's rear left side. The steel beast was too focused on the defenders a loud thunderclap rang out, the explosive shell impacted near the first entrenchment. Placing the magnetic anti-tank grenade on the side hull rendering the sloped hull useless, pulling the cap off he ran. Rushing away, falling back towards the safety of his trench. The armoured beast's side blasted where the grenade once stuck. The cap pierced into the armour spreading hot and molten steel. The shrapnel ripped into the fuselages container igniting the diesel.

The fragments still moved on, cutting pipes wires and the engine block. The flames quickly spread over the spilling fuel, swiftly it burned uncontrollably licking the crude engine and heating the second fuel container. The tank crew panicked as they tried to open there respective hatches, the fire seeped through, directly into their canopy. The driver and radio operator where the first to be met with lead. The commander stumbled out of the way, falling into the snow on its right side, the gunner jumped off landing with a thud.

The loader was almost out of his iron furnace until the gas and engine combusted. Flames bellowed out like a volcano consuming him as he fell back in. It reached high into the sky burning him alive, the hot metal floor eating and roasting his flesh as chunks peeled off. His cries and screams loud and clear through the roaring flames and war. In an instant the tank exploded in a beautiful show of force and terror. The shock wave spread across the snow and dirt, washing its force over anything that it past. The fire soon came after reaching out greedily and consuming the air. Twisted metal escaped from the force. Metal chunks of hatches, bolts, twisted steel and the turret itself left the T-34's body from the combustion.

the Mannschaften got out of the kill radius. The force from the shockwave washed over him as it put him down. Standing back up quickly as his body would allow a bullet struck his leg, the round entering and escaping cleanly through. Yelping out in pain, his legs buckled beneath him falling back into the snow. A fellow grenadier saw this as he tried to get out of his cover, only to be pulled in.

"Nein Dummkopf he is all ready gone. And we don't have the army here, are all that is LEFT!" He yelled the last word. His steely grip holding the young mans shoulder. More Russians bolstered the lines as reinforcements to renewed the assault.

"I can save him let me go!" With a thrash from his shoulder the soldier lost his grip. Jumping onto the high ground. Moving his legs across the field, his boots leaving swift prints and snow flying. Charging head long, the young grenadier ran out to save his comrade. Rounds flew past and whizzed closely by him, with every step he made the more intense it got. Ivan took the chance to kill if it showed… and it did. Reaching out towards his downed brother he took hold of his shoulder dragging him to safety. Ivan did not let up seeing the wounded and saviour gaining there bloody hate.

he heard the gunfire behind him, gaining more attention to him and his wounded brother. Pulling with his weakening state and fleeting strength, seeing as he came closer and closer. A seething hot pain rippled through his back and lung. Falling he felt the snow encompassed him, the biting cold of snow and the warmth escaping from his wounds. Breathing became harder and shallow as he stared into the grey sky and falling snow. He became colder with every struggling breath, he felt no pain just the cold air of the late winter month. His mind drifted away as sleep pulled at him begging to rest… and so he fell to the temptation.

Ivan kept up the pressure as the commissars threw body after body. Clearing most of the S-mines from the first assault. Russian moral fell as they suffered from the heavy machine positions, lead rained heavily the guttering sound from a buzz saw rang loud and true. Light machine gun positions flashed from the dugout. Wood, snow and dirt hid their users only the top of their helms and shadows covering their eyesight. Rifles still rang true, accurate within Ivan's line, machine pistols clattering with the heavy artillery.

Grinding treads rumbled over the fighting once again. From the city a grey body moved behind the stone walls, coming into view was one Bolshevik panzer. That tank quickly turned into two T34 beasts the second coming swiftly from behind it. their sloped and rolling armour plates dull and harden. Prowling as the predators they are. slowing down the panzers allowed themselves to act as cover. The soviets rallied behind them slowly marching towards them.

The officer saw this, getting off the heavy machine gun running towards the railing. "Wolfe get that gun on them!" Screamed the Officer taking his machine pistol in hand. The pak crew took to the anti tank gun, the gunner taking hold of the crank handles his eye lining with the sights. Aiming the gun, twisting and slowly rotating the handles, the thin lines that made the crosshairs the centre directly over the T-34's front mantle. Loading the panzergranate 40 shell, the loader reached over patting the gunner before turning his head covering his ears opening the mouth wide. With a thunderclap and ringing ears, the shell flew screaming across the short distance before impacting. The round slammed into the front rounded smooth mantle, the shell ricochet off!. The orange tracer redirected, flying wide towards the right, digging into a buildings wall. "aim for the cheek Dummkopf, hit it in the cheek!" The officer yelled spent casings discharging from the MP40, the brass casings clattering next to him.

The loader lowered the handle, the breach loader released the now empty shell. Taking a hold on the empty shell casing, pulling as hot brass clattered behind him, from tossing it aside. Reaching out grabbing another shell the round grey warhead sliding into the breach. With practice ease, the holder slid closed in with efficiency and the gunner took aim. Adjusting the cranks again lining his sights with its left cheek. With a clap and recoil, the first T-34's left cheek was left with a fist sized burning hole, the coaxial gun ceased and stopped dead in its tracks.

With it's allied armour stopped dead. the second T-34 rotated its main gun, the coaxial firing across the stone and wall, where the Pak gun was hidden. It's bullets shattering stone and wood where it strafed. Firing all across the wall and debris, with a thump a shell impacted. The wall next to them exploded, small stones and sizeable blocks flung out. Bullets skittered across the steel plate, it did nothing to keep the gunner and loader safe from the strafe, the shots that pierced through hitting their mark. The loader ducked low hugging the ground unscathed, the gunner to focus with his sights his crosshairs lining up with the tank. Bullets sparked across the thin plate, a single bullet pierced through, embedding into his shoulder. The flesh parting from entry, just missing his shoulder blade. with a grunt of pain, his muscles trembled, reacting by instincts he squeezed the trigger to hold himself upright. The gun fired prematurely, the shell soared gracefully from the barrel. Spinning the armour piercing shell cut cleanly into the F-34 Barrel the impact twisting the hardened steel. Warped and torn the barrel looked completely useless. Collapsing to the ground the gunner held his shoulder the pain seething through his teeth.

Another soldier ran towards the Pak 38 as the loader recovered another shell loading it in with practice ease. The second man took aim rotating the gears his sights aligning on the drivers hatch he fired.

The shell flew straight and true its sharp pointed cap like a rapier. Connecting the shell discharged its payload burning a hole into the drivers plate. The shell went through but the destruction was kept minimal, it traveled through cutting into the gunners leg. The force tore throughout the steel flooring and ripping him off his seat. The power had enough destruction through the plate piercing had tore into the tanks engine killing the beast. Flinging open the crew bailed out screaming profanities at the defending resistance in there native language. Several German grenadiers open fire on them getting the crew to take cover.

The first T-34 slowly rotated its turret the main gun steadily stabilizing. All grenadiers where distracted by the unrelenting fierce push by the red plague. A grenadier ducked as he reloaded his rifle, looking up he spotted the tanks rotating gun. He yelled out "Dam Panzer is still up!"

"Take aim at the first one! it's still operational!" The officer cried out. The T34 completed it's movement, its coaxial machine gun and the main 76.2 gun fired, hitting close to Jurgen. The shock and blast took him by force... the kinetic energy washed over, alongside with dirt, snow and mud. him knocking him down the reverberations washing over his body and ears.

High pitched ringing and dazed he stumbled up. Looking over towards where the blast was, he froze, his blood running cold as his mind screaming out to look away!. but he couldn't, with the sight to see his comrade like the ones before. The boy was holding his stomach, the flesh torn with the large wound. Steam escaped into the air the blood drooling out of him along with his stomach. Part of him was missing his right shoulder only the flimsy strings of his muscle and skin. His ears still rang out, the sight in front of him overwhelming. He could see his fear the tears that leaked out as the boy slowly reached out to him.

Jurgen reached out to the boy, the tears that ran down his pleading eyes. He brushed his hand only to see it slumped into the dirt and snow. He looked into that boys eyes, seeing his life ebbed away. Another clap rang out, bringing him into his senses. turning he saw the T-34 brining with another ring in its left cheek again, the tank stopped firing for the second time. "Put another in it to make sure it will never fire again!" Screamed someone.

Jurgen looked down, the blood on his left hand, the boy that lay next to him. He trembled as his hand clenched into a fist, the wet cool sticky blood. the rage that built up began to boil over seeing the MG34 he reached out grabbing the machine gun. As he slammed the gun down the belt clinking, pulling the charging bolt back lining up towards these animals. Pulling the trigger the machine gun sang, he screamed out his rage as the bullets leapt from the box and glide over his palm. He held the trigger the gun roaring with him, the bullets and brass leaving a smoking trail. Heat started to climb at an alarming rate the barrel starting to glow red. Casings spilling to the ground clacking on top of another, the barrel smoking with the building excesses heat radiated off hissing like a rattlesnake. The snow instantly melting from the radiation exposure.

A sickening clank was what came out of the 34. Twisting the side cover releasing the entire body moving the body towards the side to see the still hot and smoking metallic tube. Unsheathing the smoking red hot barrel from its grasp, burning steel met his skin the sensation burning him to the touch. Tossing the useless bent metal aside with a fresh steel sliding it in and locking in place.

Fixing the problem he took aim and fired again in a more controlled burst. The belt sliding from the box over his palm, into the hungry machine. It was a satisfying sensation, and seeing those animals being put down by his hands, their screams music towards his ears.

The firefight had lasted nearly two hours, before Ivan gave the retreat back to there lines. The Germans continued to hold firm like Iron their spirits renewed. At the sight of the Russians retreating with their tails between there legs. They held there fire, but none cheered or even smiled, because they knew what was coming soon.

The light snow fall started to pick up, some troops went inside the Cathedral, gathering munitions and tags from the fallen looting them for socks and better clothing. Water was scarce and food was so small that rationing them wouldn't last a day or two. They had plenty of munitions and explosives that could feed a frontline heavy battalion for months.

The light snow fall had slowly turned into a deathly snow storm, temperatures dropping drastically bitting into the unprepared. The Germans counted this as a blessing for the men that made it out of hell. They also counted this as their curse, most of them did not have the clothing to keep the cold away or to stay warm. But the storm held there deaths a little longer prolonging their suffering.

Authors note

Edited at 6:47 am June 8th

Edited at 10:11 AM September 21st

Wow I looked back at this part and it was gross reading it and so I am rereading and revising this to make it better and I'm surprised no one said anything. Well tell me next time when something like this happens. As seen below

This is my first time and I will try to update when ever I can or get in time through work but give a shout and see if I missed anything or if I have to rewrite and give me a kick in the ass if I'm taking too long. work can make me forget that I have other things. And give out advice too. would appreciated it and even if it is harsh and all.