- Kalinin Front.png (1.8 MiB) Viewed 662 times
28th December 1941
Near Rudnya,
18th Tank Division
The howling wind carried the acrid scent of burning fuel and charred metal. What remained of the 18th Tank Division had spent the last two weeks locked in a deadly stalemate. The German forces they had encircled were now desperate, lashing out with reckless ferocity. To the right, a pocket of the 110th Infantry Division clung to survival, their artillery hammering Soviet positions daily. To the left, another German force battered their flanks, creating a dangerous situation for the 18th—surrounded not in a pocket, but by two relentless enemies.
Fortunately, the 18th wasn’t entirely alone. The 15th Guards Light Rocket Regiment, armed with the fearsome Katyusha rocket launchers, provided sporadic fire support, raining devastation on German positions whenever they could reload and reposition. The 187th Anti-Aircraft Battalion was also nearby, their 85mm KS-12 guns serving double duty as both anti-aircraft and anti-tank weapons. These reinforcements, while invaluable, were stretched thin and under constant threat of counterattack.
Mikhail’s T-34 sat among the battered remnants of the division’s surviving armor. Smoke curled from the engine vents, and frost had crusted over the damaged turret. Repairs were slow and improvised. A temporary patch had been welded over the hole left by the anti-tank round, but the tank wasn’t fully operational. Grisha had his head buried in a map spread across the engine deck, his fingers tracing defensive positions.
“Two pockets, one on each side,” Grisha muttered.
“If they link up, we’re done.”
Mikhail stood nearby, his numb fingers clutching a cup of tea that had long gone cold. Around him, the remnants of their platoon moved like shadows in the snow. There were no smiles, no jokes—just the grim efficiency of men who had seen too much death.
The crack of German artillery echoed across the frozen wasteland. Snow and dirt erupted in geysers near their makeshift camp, sending soldiers scrambling for cover.
“Damn it, they’re probing again!” Grisha shouted. “Yuri! Get the engine running!”
The T-34 roared to life, belching black smoke into the frigid air. Mikhail climbed into the turret, his breath visible in the cold as he settled into his gunner’s seat. The cramped space reeked of oil, sweat, and lingering fear.
“Positions!” Grisha barked over the intercom.
Yuri slammed the throttle forward, and the T-34 lurched into motion. Snow crunched under its tracks as they joined a line of other tanks preparing to counter the German advance. The infantry, huddled in shallow trenches, watched with wary eyes as the tanks formed a ragged defensive line.
The first wave came swiftly—German soldiers advancing in tight, disciplined formations. Their gray uniforms blended into the wintry landscape, but the muzzle flashes of their rifles gave them away. Behind them, heavy mortars and field guns barked relentlessly, their shells falling perilously close to the Soviet tanks.
Suddenly, a high-pitched whine filled the air. Moments later, the sky lit up with fiery streaks as a barrage of Katyusha rockets roared toward the German positions. The rockets slammed into the advancing lines, scattering men and equipment in a maelstrom of fire and shrapnel. The Soviet infantry cheered, but their relief was short-lived as the Germans quickly regrouped.
“Load HE!” Mikhail shouted. Fyodor grunted in acknowledgment, slamming a shell into the breech.
Mikhail sighted in on a group of advancing Germans, their silhouettes stark against the snowy horizon. He squeezed the trigger, and the gun roared. The shell exploded in their midst, sending bodies tumbling like ragdolls.
“Keep firing! Don’t let them close the gap!” Grisha yelled.
To their right, an 85mm KS-12 gun from the 187th roared to life, sending a high-velocity shell straight through a German anti-tank gun. The crew scattered, but another German position immediately opened fire, targeting the vulnerable AA gun.
“Right flank! Take out that gun!” Grisha ordered.
Mikhail swung the turret, the sights locking onto the German position. He fired, but the shell fell short, kicking up a plume of snow and dirt. The gunner on the German side adjusted quickly, their next shot slamming into the tracks of a nearby T-34.
“Reload! Faster!” Mikhail shouted.
Fyodor loaded another shell, his hands shaking from the cold and adrenaline. Mikhail adjusted his aim, compensating for the distance and the uneven ground. This time, the shell struck true, obliterating the anti-tank gun in a thunderous explosion.
“Good hit!” Grisha called.
But the battle was far from over. The Germans pressed forward, using the terrain to shield their movements. Artillery rained down relentlessly, cratering the ground and hammering the tanks. The T-34 shuddered as a near miss showered it with shrapnel.
“Driver, back us up!” Grisha ordered.
Yuri reversed the tank, its damaged tracks groaning in protest. The retreat was measured and deliberate, buying time for the infantry to regroup. But the cost was high. Another tank to their left took a direct hit, its turret spinning off like a child’s toy.
Mikhail’s heart pounded as he loaded another shell. The Germans were getting closer, their machine guns chattering like angry hornets. Through the periscope, he saw Soviet infantry locked in desperate hand-to-hand combat, their bayonets flashing in the dim light.
“We can’t hold this line!” Yuri shouted.
“We don’t have to,” Grisha replied.
“Command says reinforcements are en route. We just have to survive until then.”
The words felt hollow. Mikhail knew that survival was a thin hope at best. His fingers tightened around the firing controls as he prepared for the next shot. Around him, the battlefield was a nightmare of fire, smoke, and blood.
The snow was red.
- Kalinin Front (1).png (1.55 MiB) Viewed 662 times
In the days that followed, the situation for the 18th Tank Division changed dramatically. Reinforcements arrived from the 361st Rifle Division of the 10th Army and the 53rd Rifle Division of the 33rd Army. Under the overall command of General Rokossovsky, these fresh troops launched a coordinated assault on the German 110th Infantry Division. Supported by overwhelming artillery fire and the remaining tanks of the 18th, the combined Soviet forces smashed through the German positions, driving them out of Rudnya and back toward Krasnoe.
For the 18th Tank Division, the battle was a costly but temporary reprieve. The division could finally pull back to refit and repair, tending to their battered tanks and wounded men. As they left the smoking ruins of Rudnya behind, Mikhail and his comrades knew that their war was far from over. But for now, they had survived.
So the fun is not to know if the German player will win, it is to know HOW and WHEN he will fall and which type of defensive warfare will he go trough.
. And that frustrates me a whole lot but..whatever I guess. We're pushing as far as we can with the cavalry division while reinforcement are marching to take positions and dig near rivers. I am also starting to limit the amount of divisions surrounding the pockets. Preparing for the summer to come. I will rebuild my frontline strong and keep the pocketed divisions with minimal troops. 
