Firestorm: Red Thunder

In the early hours of the morning WarPac’s 8th Army Guards armoured forces pounce upon the unsuspecting infantry of the Bundeswehr’s 3rd German Corps under cover of the last hours of darkness. The sleepy town that the Panzergrenadiers had accommodated was about to become host to the first, brutal days of fighting WWIII would see.

The snapping of trees in the distance signals the first signs of Russian heavy armour, trundling forward. T-72s, a hulking mass of them bursting through the forest to the East. On their left and right flanks a small group of Gaskins and Spandrels slowly make their way down the road in time with the advance. The T-72s catch glimpse of the German infantry positions and open fire with their main cannons, shooting haphazardly into the darkness. Troops are shocked but are luckily they survive without a scrape. Suddenly, from the trees, Hinds, two of them! Their whirring disguised by the thumping of Russian guns, they fly straight for the embedded German positions and with a whoosh swing around, spotting the lone formation commander. They train their guns to fire. Luckily, the Marders were ready, their thermal imaging picking out the Hinds against the sky and launching a volley of rounds, enough to keep them from concentrating their fire on the commander.

The Germans are heavily outnumbered and are aware of this, they maintain their prepared positions and send the call for help post haste. “Reinforcements are en route.” Infantry in the town scramble into nearby buildings to establish a firing line, waiting for targets, while the dug in platoon stay put and await an opportunity to strike. One Marder attachment doubles back and positions themselves at the rear of the Hinds, preparing to fire again. The other unit begins flanking the Gaskin platoon. The Grenadier commander remains on the ground, unmoving, hoping that before he is spotted again his allies will have dealt with the Hind menace.

Just as abruptly as they had appeared, the armoured advance halts, perhaps the night’s rain had made the forest bogging territory, or maybe they were waiting for the Bundeswehr to make the first muzzle flash. The enemy Spandrels had broken off and stationed themselves behind the factory building, likely positioned to strike at the Marders should they show themselves. But most worryingly of all, the Hinds maintain their positioning and fire again at the commander. Before their gatling guns could finish winding up, a Hind’s lower fuselage is penetrated; a cannon round from one of the Marders situated in town. It lights aflame and spins as it drops, smashing onto the ground, a fall sure to kill all who were aboard.

No reinforcements have come, but witnessing the mighty flying tank being taken down has galvanised the German troops. Strike now! The flanking Marders move around and immediately open fire on the Gaskin troop using the road to advance, taking out one and bailing another. From the trees behind them lay their Jaguar 1 unit, lying in wait for the perfect opportunity to strike. They spot the T-72s edging from the forest and guide their missiles onto them. Drat, they were hit but their armour kept their tanks running. Worse still, the Jaguars were now exposed. Marders in the town close the gap, unaware of the enemy near the factory.

With the newly exposed German forces, the Russians take the initiative, remount their vehicles and begin pushing straight for the objective, their Hind falling back behind its allies to bolster them. The T-72s respond to the Jaguar 1 rockets with heavy firepower of their own, taking out the unit leader when a round penetrated straight through the hull of his vehicle. The remaining T-72s move forward and spot the flanking Marders, open fire and light up two of them, the leader opting for a full retreat, his unit obliterated. Now nothing can stop the Hind, spotting the dug in infantry it opens it rocket pods and unleashes all of them, raining down onto the German troops relentlessly. The rockets land right into the sandbagged positions, pinning them down, but by a miracle not one wound on any soldier.

As if sent by the heavens themselves, reinforcements arrive. A Gepard Flak Batterie, just in the nick of time. “We’re here, boys, leave the airpower to us”. They rotate their turrets onto the Hind, now helpless after releasing its ordinance, and unload every gun directly into the Soviet bat. After a huge barrage of unrelenting fire, the final Hind fell in the distance, only an explosive plume of flame was visible in the end. At last, an opportunity! The Commander along with his Marders remained undetected by the Spandrels near the factory, whom they were sneaking up on. Getting in close, they open all guns, destroying one Spandrel in a flurry of cannon fire, two others bailing out of their vehicles in panic.

The sun has risen and the Russian armour positions are revealed, now they were caught on the back foot but press on knowing only that they must complete the mission at any cost. With the supporting over-watch tank unit behind them, the T-72s in the open now dash at full speed towards the pinned infantry, across the fields, following their leader without any hesitation. They must drive the capitalists back from their positions and take Fulda. The fatherland smiles upon the Germans; the fields swallow three charging tanks, stopping their advance. The unit leader and his brave cohort rage on however, crashing into the infantry defensive lines. The grenadiers remember their training, using their RPGs to put a dent in the weak spots of the on-coming T-72s, bailing one of their crews out. The final T-72 drives straight into the fox holes, forcing the infantry out from cover. In the infantry’s retreat the T-72 unit in the forest line fire overhead, picking off an infantry team with their brutal guns. Now the German infantry were exposed, and their defensive line in serious threat of being broken from further attack.

German reinforcements! An M109 artillery unit arrives along with tank hunting PAH air support, neither of which able to respond having only just arrived onto the battlefield. The choppers wait behind the trees, the artillery preparing for a bombardment. The Bundeswehr have the numbers, but if they don’t act now they will lose the objective. Gepards rush forward in line of sight to the remaining Gaskins, and Marders from the town close the gap on the bailed-out Spandrels, looking to finish the job. A huge onslaught of fire ensues, and from the dust, all but one vehicle is ablaze, chewed up by the overwhelming rate of fire. “Their support is gone, let them have it!” The Jaguar 1s launch their HOT missiles into the side of the assaulting Soviet tanks, destroying both and leaving the remainder of the unit in the open. There was hesitation as the Russians re-evaluated their new plan, but instead decided on a retreat. A simultaneous sigh of relief spread amongst the German troops as the T-72 horde reversed from battle.

The tides were ever shifting, but by a thread, and only at the end, the West Germans had the upper hand. Both forces knew that any continued presence on the battlefield would be a bloody and pointless stalemate, thus they both conceded and retreated into distant positions. The Soviet attack was held off, barely, but for how the battle would have went if it had gone on was not an optimistic vision for West Germany.