Four packs of cigarettes, twenty magazines and one fur coat. This is what was left of the reserve supplies this was all that was left of the twelfth company supplies. Sergeant Jakob Eriksson reflected.
It had now been six months at Leningrad twenty two days and an hour since the Twelfth company had arrived, manpower had kept coming but supplies hadn't. What was left was little more than enough to last a Russian counter attack.
Plenty of ration tins, looked like they were frozen, a handful of grenades, looked to be about five, and last was a flag. Command had given each unit the Red Cross on Gold probably in hopes someone would find a building tall enough to fly it from amongst the ruins.
Eriksson stood up and walked out of the room, outside there was the sounds of distant gunfire and the familiar sight of grey, brown and white. Four more men stood around a small meager fire and a fifth seating. A second seat was empty, only a rifle sitting in it.
The sitting man looked up, It was the Lieutenant, younger boy named Christian. The war had turned him from green to grey just like the rest of twelfth company, the ones that survived anyway, at least half the men in the room were still unfamiliar to Erikson, but not the Lieutenant. "We have orders, come over here"
Eriksson set down a ration tin by the fire and walked over beside his commander. He looked at the empty chair and then away to a map the commander was holding letting out a soft sigh.
"A runner came by, we are to move up this street with the 11th company, I asked for a tank, no word yet"
Eriksson looked at the map, the Lt was pointing at what they both knew was a series of fortified houses. "Death Row" Eriksson said, thinking aloud.
The Lieutenant nodded quietly "We are to move just south, wait until support from the air, god willing the weather co-operates for once"
Eriksson looked up, there was a roof but the building they were in was so filled with holes you could see the sky by angling just right. There was no sun up yet and plenty of clouds.
"And if it doesn't"
The Lieutenant just stared at him silently. Then he glanced across the fire at who was left.
Eriksson sighed and turned to face the same direction as his commander "Alright, we're moving out grab everything you can"
The streets were eerily quiet that morning. Some of the buildings had fallen since they had been in this particular area of the city. Moving through it was still slow, the squaded needed to be cautious as emptiness meant snipers and the Russians loved to seed abandoned areas with them to pick off unsuspecting patrols.
By the time they had arrived south of death row it was not longer quiet, or empty. The popping sound of machine guns echo'd in from the north almost constantly and the trademark bluish grey of Erikssons countrymen filled the buildings, manning guns talking and eating.
Lieutenant Christian stopped the unit at what looked to be some sort of bombed out storefront. 11th unit was there with nicer looking uniforms and sure enough a tank. The crew was sitting on the turret laughing about some sort of joke that was hard to hear over the rest ambient noise. The tank itself was large, not the L/60 but some sort of Lend Lease tank from the germans, it looked like a giant box, with a gun as long as a Flak cannon. The words "Bad Kitty" were painted onto the side of the turret, still fresh.
None of the new faces looked very happy to see Eriksson's half empty unit. The Lieutenant was busy explaining the past week to what looked to be the tank commander was was nodding and puffing on a pipe. He looked new, his blond hair was still nice and clean and his uniform looked fresh from a crate. His men looked slightly less so, one was ever wearing a Russian hat complete with that god awful star for the cold. Then the commander slapped his hands together and smiled a wolfish grin "Lets see if Nine lives is enough to get through death row hmm?"
He seemed sure of himself, Erikson thought. 11th Company didn't seem to impressed either, and Erikson could see the opposite Lt twisting his mouth into some sort of frown, scowl or something inbetween.
Nevertheless once the tank commander had finished with his pipe 'Bad Kitty' got moving and both units filed in behind it.
Building by building they cleared out the area before death row. They heard their goal before they saw it, machine guns popping away. Just as it came in sight the unit stopped, and waited.
Death Row was a church, and a few buildings alongside it Eriksson could see, plain as day. The tower had long been blown off and at the top sat a small sandbag fort covered in ice, likely with a sniper at the top. Below looked to be a snow fort, with layers of ice and snow covered walls, blackened holes where the machine guns were. Those walls aren't ice, that much was obvious, behind the snow was sandbags and the second wall was reinforced concrete, It was a fortress.
They had sat there for about an hour before the Tank commander popped his prissy head out of the turret "Alright, prepare for some fireworks boys"
He had done it too soon perhaps becuase it had been another hour until they heard what was coming. They sounded like demons screaming out of hell and the results seemed to reinforce the idea. Fireballs, coming in from the west by the dozen had begun to crash into the soviet position and everywhere around it. The Tank commander yelled and laughed and mockingly began singing in faux Russian. Eriksson knew the song, and he knew full well what was happening, The Germans had seized the port only a month ago, and it seemed they might have captured some new toys. Now the Russians before them were about to experience the hell that was a rocket attack for the first time.
The attack lasted only a few minutes, and the results were, disappointing to say the least as only a dozen or so rockets actually hit their targets. The church, or what was left of it anyway was a smoldering ruin, its sniper roost covered in a cloud of black smoke. The outer walls of death row were broken up in several places small moving figures in the distance scrambled around between pillars of smoke.
"Bad Kitty" began to roll forward and both units moved with the armored beast, either behind it or along the roads so as the run into cover when the machine guns started.
The first round fired from "Bad Kitty" and with a puff of smoke and distant thump another chunk of Death Row came tumbling down. Then came the second round, and the third.
Now they were close enough for the Russians to shoot back, first it was machineguns then it was Tanks on the Russian side, a Type 28, and two Type 33's.
12th Company was now along the buildings, This was no longer infantry work, it was now the time for the beasts to exchange words in the only way they knew how, Hot molten steel.
One tracer impacted the front of Bad Kitty, by the time the smoke had cleared two more had fired down the street, one finding the ground too early and the last finding the front. The last round didn't stop, it bounced clean off landing in a building in between Kitty and the Type 33's.
Bad Kitties response was quick, One round and a firey explosion from death row. The Russians had begun to fire upon the tank with machine guns, and virtually everything else they had.
Bad Kitty stopped and turned so it's front was no longer facing the enemy. That didn't seem to make much sense to Eriksson or any of his unit, "Why expose the weaker armor?"
The tank didn't care and stopped at that slight angle. Then it fired again taking another enemy. The last Russian round skimmed clear over the top. Bad Kitty didn't miss, and the third tank went up in a ball of flame.
Then the advance came again, until they were well within rifle range. Between rounds from the Tank and 11th Companies' advance down the street by the time the Tank itself and 12th company had arrived at death row, the great Russian fortress had become a ruin much like the rest of the city. The Russians still there held thier rifles in the air, screaming something desperately. They looked worse than Eriksson had expected starved, cold and now mentally broken. From the other roads came more soldiers, and more tanks with friendly colors 10th, 14th and 16th companies, No tanks like bad kitty among them however.
The Commander had popped open his hatch and was looking around, admiring his handiwork then he looked to the ruined church and smiled. 11th Company had risen the Gold and Red from the ruined sniper nest.
Then, in his Faux Russian, the Commander sung his song again, this time accompanied by a chorus of men.