Authors: Len Gilbert
“Master…” The explosive-strapped wolf muttered with his ears lowered.
“Rokura?”
The ‘master’ turned around.
“What happened… What. I recognize those faces! Siptrott? Werner Kindler!”
The ‘master’ shook young Werner Kindler by the shoulders and beamed as if he were re-uniting with his son.
“Rokura how in the hell did you miraculously bring me these men! Tell me. Tell me you got those wolftaurs!”
“They’re gone, Master, but one escaped.”
The ‘Master’s’ face brightened at their sight. Hans noticed oak leaves on the ‘Master’s’ collar. This man had the residue of this world all over him, as if he’d been here for as long as Hans had.
“And who are these two?”
“Sir, um, Herr-Master-Sepp,” Hans spoke up.
“We are a scouting party for a Kompanie-sized unit led by Standartenfuehrer Jochen Peiper.”
Another explosion rocked the ground not far away. ‘Master Sepp’ put down his crossbow, pulled out an empty cigarette carton and began scribbling on it.
“Young man,” he said to Hans, “You go back to Jochen Peiper. Give him these instructions. He will know what to do.”
Hans took the carton and pocketed it. Flaming stones were raining down all around the trench, causing tremors all over the earth and hurling dirt and snow atop all their heads.
“We’re outnumbered here!” Sepp shouted with sudden urgency. “Bring the Leibstandarte, it’s our only hope,” he yelled to Hans.
“Yes, sir! What of the three with me?”
Master Sepp looked up, his face now caked with dust. “Werner and Siptrott stay! Take the American with you, you’ll never make it back on your own. Axthrowers everywhere. Follow me!”
Sepp lead Hans and Wheelis down a path and pulled up the wolf they had found on their expedition.
“Rokura!”
“Yes, Master Sepp!”
“These two Kamerads! To the relic!”
“You mean Petch-Key’s relic?”
“That’s the one! Go!”
Rokura pulled Hans and Tex to the far end of a trench and toward a thicket behind the line. The three of them doubled over and darted from tree to tree.
“I don’t think the Greenskins got to it yet. No! They didn’t. There it is, the Petch-Key relic!”
Perhaps Master Sepp hadn’t told his wolves the otherworldly term for this ‘relic.’ Right there stood a BMW ‘Steib’ sidecar, collecting snow and looking lonely.
R75
“You DO know how to drive one of these, right?”
“Eh, yeah. I mean, kind of. I’ve driven a light tank once before. Heh. So how hard can this be?”
Tex did not look reassured. Hans straddled the motorcycle and ignited the engine only for it to cough and sputter.
“Teufel!”
“Give it another try, sir?” Rokura pleaded as he stood by them in the snow.
Hans revved the handlebar one more time. The motorcycle spurted to life and then hummed along as if it were brand new.
“Mister Hans?”
“Yes.”
“Please get your humans here as soon as you can.”
“I will.”
Tex was already seated and had his rifle rested on the mount.
“This’ll have to work,” he said, fixing the gun on some imaginary target.
“You ready?” Hans queried.
“Now or never,” Tex replied.
“Alright hold on.”
Hans hit the gas and revved forward in fits and starts, practiced a turn or two, then roared off in the direction he came, watching Rokkura get smaller and smaller in the distance. The wheels’ traction slid in the slippery snow.
“You’re gonna have to speed up! Or the axthrowers will get us!” Tex drawled out as loud as he could over the engine.
“Jawohl!”
“What?”
“I mean, ‘OK!’”
Hans hit the accelerator and the BMW quickly went from 40 kph to 50 and kept climbing. Wind blew on his face as he darted between mossy trees and their speed grew. Until Tex gave a shout.
Hans looked over to see Tex’s face covered in snow. He spit out pine needles and cursed at Hans.
“Watch it!”
“Sorry!” Hans looked back sheepishly.
“Shit…” Tex grumbled and pulled his rifle back into position. “Oh shit!”
An ax flew at the sidecar but missed widely.
“Damnit…” Tex looked out ahead and fired a shot that punched right through a tree. Hans shook his head and told himself to focus only on avoiding the axes. Tex’s bullets would either hit or they wouldn’t.
A giant old growth tree came out of nowhere and collided with the front of the motorcycle, jolting both of them and smashing out the front light. Tex quickly stood up in the sidecar and fired the rifle, and the pursuing axthrower dropped.
Hans blinked, looking over to Tex as seeing him in double. He shook his head and noticed the engine was still humming. He pushed hard on the accelerator and the tires spat snow into the air, vision returning just in time.
“Now cover for me while I regain speed!”
“Roger that!”
“What?”
“I said ‘OK!’”
“Oh!”
With two bangs ringing through the air, Tex fired the rifle and just missed an enemy ahead, but the loud ratchet of the gun kept the the axthrower on the ground while they chugged by. Hans weaved between the trees, growing confident in the Texan’s ability to spot any threats before they could act.
50-60-65
Even still the BMW’s handling carried them through that snowy forest. Occasionally Tex blasted the rifle, but Hans’ mind was now synced with the ground beneath his wheels, and his maneuvering became actions without thought.
70-75-80
Then they saw light and broke out into a glade, and still the trusty sidecar had yet more to show Hans and his passenger.
85-90-95
“One hundred!” Hans yelled out. Tex arched the gun around, but this time there was nobody to be found, friend or enemy, only a quickly-changing horizon. They belted into the open foothills and soon descended from them. The icy river, and Peiper’s bunker, finally came into view. The sidecar came screaming down the hills and startled everyone as Hans screeched to a stop in the camp.
Delay Doctrine
“Get out of here now!”
The last explosion cracked nearby evergreens and showered Kasha’s platoon with splinters and pine needles. He found himself shouting at the seven men still under his command to retreat. He blew the whistle in three successions to make sure everyone understood him over the fracas.
“Sir, the orders were to hold here!”
“I don’t—!”
Just then another bomb hit the ground and thundered through the air. Those explosions were joined by the ‘dynamit’ sappers targeting the Wolftaurs which Kristiyan and the other dragoons hadn’t killed. That sacrifice gave Kasha time, and he was going to take advantage of it. To continue this attack against a much larger force was insanity. It would only get his platoon killed.
“Fall back! Do it now! I’ll answer for it!” He blew the whistle again in three successions.
His platoon listened to him and scurried back into the dark forest.
Soon Kasha heard other whistles, and looked over to the pockmarked landscape to see lines of canine warriors shuffling back through the evergreens. The other platoons were retreating, as well. Soon, the whole Kompanie was away from the line.
“What in the hells are you doing!” Steyn, the new leader of the whole company since Kristiyan’s death, was furious. “Kristiyan said attack and that order came right from Master Sepp!”
“I’m saving people, that’s what!” Kasha growled. “Poetschke got too far ahead. Our whole line is failing and we need to fall back on our tripods!”
“That’s not your order to give,” Steyn responded in kind.
A crowd of warriors gathered around Steyn and Kasha. Master Sepp had a book of protocol that said Steyn would be leader in this situation. But that was a human book, written for human warriors. Steyn growled at Kasha and circled around to settle the question of leadership in a more indigenous fashion.
“Wait,” Kasha said.
“For what. You want to lead, go through me.”
“This is exactly why the Greenskins have beaten us every time. We don’t even know the force we’re attacking. For all we know there could be twice or three times as many of them!”
Steyn took a step away from Kasha, who the others were now listening to. An enemy arrow whizzed over them, interrupting their ad hoc meeting.
“The courier is coming. Let’s wait until we hear from him, then decide from there.”
Steyn relented.
“Fine. Drop back another five Terras and hold the line until we know the situation,” he ordered.
The warriors picked up their weapons and backed further away. Kasha’s platoon was demoralized, but he could tell most were relieved to be out of the impossible situation behind them. After half an hour of walking, the sound of hooves closed in from behind. It was the scouts’ adjutant they had been waiting for, and he handed Steyn a tape of parchment.
The Kompanie leader scoffed at the tape, and stood there dumbfounded before reading it aloud.
“The force ahead of us in the north is at 400 people. Battle group Poestschke is in retreat. Master Sepp is holding.”
Steyn’s expression went blank. The wolves were more than twice outnumbered, and with Poetschke on the run, attacking was pointless. Steyn shook his head.
“I transfer Kompanie command to you, Kasha.”
Steyn acted like a wolven pack leader in any tribe would have, and turned over leadership to the person who was not only right, but obviously more trusted by the pack. Once again, Master Sepp’s manual wasn’t consulted.
“Anything else you want to tell me?” The adjutant asked from atop his steed.
“Yes,” Kasha replied. “Write down that we are in full retreat back to our original defensive position. We are outnumbered, but we will hold there. Tell them reinforcements will not be necessary.”
The scout’s adjutant jotted the verbiage and took off southward.
Kasha gathered the five platoon leaders and addressed them.
“Retreat back to the main trench now, and put the reserve platoon into action on the line. We should have one tripod for each of five groups.”
Kristiyan’s adjutant counted some 80 warriors that could man the line. The Kompanie picked up its pace westward through the Northern Forest. Distance between the monsters and the Kompanie seemed to be growing as the canines moved swiftly and deliberately back.
After an hour of silent trekking they finally came within view of the trenches and foxholes from where the battle began. A few faces peeked over the precipice and from the tripods. A look of surprise spread throughout those who were left behind to defend, their surprise turned to disappointment once they realized what had happened.
Kasha wasted no time. He jumped over the trench and hauled out the box of ‘boomstick’ explosives. There were a few mashers, too. It looked as if the box was delivered recently.
“Pass these out! For each ward I want one man with boomsticks. This will add another layer of defense. Let the tripods fire their arrows, then at ten steps, pull the boomsticks and throw them. We’ll go through these fast, but it will make an explosive shield. We don’t have much time to lose, the enemy is not far behind us.”
Leading was new to Kasha, but it was something he had to get used to quickly.
The warriors got to work setting up the tripods at new locations and handing out explosives to make a ‘shield’ around the trenches. Everyone worked frantically, with the understanding that the enemy would be there within minutes.
This time the Greenskins emerged without the fanfare of explosive rocks. Perhaps they had moved too fast for their machines to keep up. The green mass came charging from the woods, and the ballistas could only pick off some. Like a well-worked machine, the wolves went to work loading the ballistas again, and most got off a second volley before the enemy got within the range of boomsticks.
“Come on now, come on…”
Kasha blew the whistle and stick grenades flew up, out and exploded in the Greenskin’s charging ranks. And despite the punishment, they came. The enemy was too close now.
“Warriors, up! Protect the tripods!”
Kasha watched some thirty wolves charge over the line and engage about half as many Greenskins. The wolves succeeded in packs, but Greenskins were still jumping into the trenches. Kasha thrust his spear into a Greenskin as it fell into the trench. While the warriors above had difficulty, he noticed the wolves did well in the trench. The Greenskins didn’t remain there for long. The ones still alive actually began running away. Kasha picked up his binoculars and watched the enemy disappear back into their cover.
“They’ll be back with more… How many have we lost?”
“Twelve, sir. Seven out of the trench, five in the trench.”
“And the tripods?”
“All operational.”
“That’s fine. Next time we draw them into the trench. Fighting seems better that way,” Kasha instructed. Kasha risked losing the tripods fighting in the trench, but there was no way his Kompanie could take twelve more losses. It would mean the end.
In just a few moments Kasha could see them in his binoculars once again. It looked like the waves were fifty at a time. Behind them was nothing but wind, not even another line of defense. It was this or nothing.
“Tripods up, mashers ready! The second’s coming!”
Another line of Greenskins could be seen emerging from the trees, and as they got close enough, the tripods went back to work. So did the explosive ‘shield.’ Yet, those remaining charged in undeterred by the carnage, with a single desire. This enemy was made of something that the wolves just weren’t.
This time they all poured into the trenches to face the wolves, and once again Kasha grabbed his spear and guarded a tripod. Greenskins were on both of his sides now and one of them smashed into the tripod with an ax. Another wolf jumped the monster from behind and attacked its throat.
He watched as, one-by-one, the wolves killed and drove away each Greenskin, but it was at a huge cost. Twisted metal and broken cartridges were strewn around the trench. Kasha stepped out and surveyed what was left. Ten more were gone, and the Greenskins destroyed two of their tripods.