Firestorm: Red Thunder

"... you are to push through the lowland hills and take the town and crossroads," Mayór Kruzich ordered without looking up from his graphic.
My disappoint stood in the air between us. I am to lead a small probing force on an unconsequential patrol. I roared in my thoughts, but remained as impassive as stone.
"You are a junior commander, leading his first operation... See that you do us proud. "

As I made my way back to my column, I grabbed a Stárshiy Leytenánt by the name of Kriskov who lead a tank company that had been mauled merciless by screening force earlier. We made our to the front of my T-72, and I began to briefed the leaders already present. The Infantry Kapitán was thoroughly annoyed that I had given his BMP-2s the assignment as our reserve and that the 72s would be the main push. Our Air Liaison Officer assures that we shall have priority air coverage by strike fighters and gunships. The older Strella 9s, while slower than the newer Strella 13s, would provide an umbrella and be supplemented by our Shilkas. I asked my assembled leaders if there were any questions, all that I received were lazy condescending smirks.

In the early hours of the morning, I ordered my forces forward. I ordered Kriskov to take the remnants of his company, and scout the southern edge of the town. My executive officer and I pushed one of our tank platoons along the road racing for the hamlet. The infantry kapitán maneuvered to take and hold the center. My scouts pushed ahead of the infantry and making hard contact with the enemy, broke off behind cover.

"Commander! American armor hiding in the woodline dead ahead! We have also spotted a secondary force emplacing within the woodline to the far north!"

"All units hold fire until you have definitive targets, no need to reveal ourselves yet! Break! Flight Commander scout and engage all enemies to the North. Keep them pressured and nervous."

Brilliant beams of light illuminated the to the front of the Infantry commander's mechanized force. With the helicopter strike team scouting to the north and engaging enemy armor, his force became the only viable targets.

"Engage! Engage! Engage!" roared the Kapitán.

Returning fire wasn't quite as easy his men complained that their infrared sights provided little assistance. Again the enemy unit, which had been identified as a pair Anti Aircraft tracks, loosed bursts of fire at his men. The rounds ripped into the armored transports, causing the crew to jump from their hatches.

Stárshiy Leytenánt Morozov was listening intently to the contact reports filling his radio, when his assigned air controller notified him that a pair of SU-25s were arriving. "Keep them out of our airspace until we deal with the anti air cannons," Morozov responded while keying his headset. "Kapitán Koslov! get your men back in their vehicles and destroy those tracks! Fire freely!"

Thunder cracked an echoed through the small town, bouncing off the hills as tank fire filled the night. The American gunners had zeroed in on Kriskov's company, but the stalwart Leytenánt continued his advance. "Za Rodina!" he shouted across the airwaves. His battered forces began returning fire toward the offending Americans.

Morozov's scouts had radioed back that the American forces had cached an extremely valuable resource on the far side of the town, a fuel dump. "Press the attack! I want those fuel drums! Kapitán Koslov, engage all targets of opportunity and secure our flank! We shall smash these defenders aside."

The rush of missiles, which had seemingly appeared from ghost ships, was all the warning the remaining ill fated men of Kriskov's company received. Fighting screaming for air cover and assistance, the young Leytenánt checked the Americans' counter attack as they desperately fought to retain their ground. Artillery rounds screamed overhead just as dawn broke, tearing open the anti aircraft trucks.
"Bring the Krocodils forward and take care of these pesky American flies. Tell Ohotnik to engage the artillery! And tell the infantry to hammer anything that breaks from the woodline! This day will be ours yet."

With one final push, Morozov's men managed to take their prize.
"Call Mayór Kruzich, tell him I have some good news..."