Plan XVI, Phase Schwerpunkt

This is a work of fiction. It is not a reflection of the views of the author and should not be treated as a source of historical information

A Ziesel III medium tank slowly crested a hill. The young commander poked his head through the roof hatch. A pair of round-rimmed glasses hung from his coat pocket while he surveyed the town below through his binoculars. The tank's gunner leaned out of the turret’s side hatch, slowly flattening a stick of gum between his teeth.

"Dear grief is coming to land," the commander smiled.

"Der Greif, Captain Johannes," interrupted the loader as she pushed past the gunner. "It's Der Greif. You have to start paying attention to your lessons."

Captain Johannes Farkas wiped his glasses with the edge of his sleeve before putting them back on. He raised his hand and waved it, ushering a trio of larger Ziesel IV tanks forward. The vehicles were almost identical with their long hulls and rounded turrets, but the IV had a louder, heavier engine, and a longer main cannon.

Deep within the hull of Farkas’ tank, the radio crackled. The operator donned their headphones, and turned the volume knob until they could hear the broadcast clearly.

“Wenn du diese Nachricht hörst, fang Unternehmen Schach und Matt an!”

“That’s our signal!” the operator repeated to their commander.

"Panzer…” Farkas took a breath. “...Vorwärts!"

The Ziesel III rumbled forward, allowing the rest of the company to follow . A squadron of light bombers soared past them and towards the village at the bottom of the hill.

One of the first tasks to ensure victory was to reduce the effectiveness of the enemy, as well as their ability to fight back. Hundreds of bombers and air-support planes had taken off from their bases and made the long journey from Kleiner Baum to Husaria that morning. Their mission was simple: Destroy airfields, damage roads, and interrupt enemy supplies.

"We're officially at war, boys," Group Commander Gallagher said from the cockpit of his fighter. "Remember Dew-Com’s orders; I want a quick run over the eastern end of town with our heavy-hitters. The rest of you, follow through with the mission. Don't level any munitions caches. The commander specifically requested for all of those to be taken undamaged."

Five Stahlwerk B-80 medium bombers broke off from the main formation. Despite their cumbersome size, the planes were just as maneuverable as their lighter counterparts. Each carried a payload of roughly three-thousand pounds of explosives. Rather than attacking the town like the one-man or two-man planes, these four-crew bombers were ordered to strike airfields, supply depots, and armories in neighboring towns.

A single-seat Schakal I took a sharp dive towards its target. The sirens mounted on the underside of the plane screeched loudly as the dive-bomber picked up speed. A total of four light bombs were anchored to the wings of the propeller-driven airplane, each more than capable of cracking asphalt and concrete. With the push of a button, the pilot released all but one of the explosives.

With the lack of cloud cover, the Schakal had easily been able to lock onto its target--a dirt airstrip just north of the village. A line of light planes sat on the runway, ready to take off.

Two of the Schakal’s bombs burst just above the ground. A third explosive struck the wing of an idle fighter and detonated, causing the plane to jump back as if it had been tossed by a giant hand.

"One enemy plane is destroyed," the Schakal pilot reported. "Runway Target C is blocked."

By now, more Schakals descended upon the runway. A lone twenty-millimeter auto-cannon tried in vain to ward off the dive-bombers. The wing-mounted machine-guns of one of the incoming planes effortlessly put the anti-aircraft piece out of commission.

Towards the center of the village, three high-explosive rounds tore holes in the thatch roof of a storehouse. The resulting blast sent debris from the building flying into the air. Men immediately rushed into action to salvage whatever they could from the rubble. As they rooted through bricks and timber, their commander rounded the corner.

A Ziesel IV promptly gunned the man down before he could begin to give orders. A second medium tank fired a shell into the ruins of the storehouse. The Husarians scattered, knowing that it would have been impossible to halt the monster, at least for the time being.

"Infantry, move up," Captain Farkas ordered calmly. His own tank stopped, allowing his crew to scan the ruins for survivors.

The rest of the tank column cruised past, followed by several lines of uniformed men and women. At the tail end of the infantry group, a small and boxy car grumbled to a stop.

"Good morning, Captain!" Doolittle waved from the back seat of the car.

"Gut-in morning, Kommandant Doolittle!" Farkas saluted his commanding officers; First Doolittle, then Finch; before waving at Augustus.

“Don’t salute me.” Doolittle looked around warily.

Farkas grabbed his own hand and dragged it back into his tank.

“Snipers everywhere, dipshit.” Finch rolled his eyes. “Are you trying to get this army decapitated?”

"It was a mistake, Lieutenant.” Doolittle tried to smile. She quickly changed her expression and locked eyes with Farkas. “We're fanning out in all directions from the village. Please keep your unit together and move on to the next stronghold on the map."

"Yes, Ma'am! Shall we--"

The droning of fighters filled the morning air yet again. Bullets streamed through the sky between a Hyäne II and a Husarian Polyarnyy fighter. The latter, a biplane, stood little chance against Kleiner Baum’s more advanced weapon. In spite of this, the Polyarnyy didn’t back down from the challenge.

A chattering noise filled the air--The very noise that gave the “Hyena” fighter its name. Farkas took shelter in his tank at the sound of the friendly fighter.
"That's it?" Doolittle asked, unflinching. "Looks like we've achieved air superiority."

One Hyäne II quickly turned to three--Doolittle could recognize Gallagher’s stylized ‘G’ insignia painted on the tail of one of the fighters. The Polyarnyy dove from the clouds in an effort to evade the trio of attackers. The original Hyäne II followed closely behind, unloading several twenty-millimeter rounds into the tail of the biplane. The remaining two fighters closed in on their prey, setting the wings ablaze with their bullets.

The biplane tumbled to the ground, but the marauders refused to cease fire. The pilot of the doomed craft struggled to free himself. As soon as he had fastened his parachute pack, a bullet crashed through the glass windshield and delivered the man to a swift end. The machine and operator met their fate in a fiery crash.

The car’s radio came on. Augustus instinctively handed the microphone to Doolittle.

“Air Superiority achieved over Springtime,” reported Gallagher. “Your ground-attack and air support flights are now ready.”

"I can see you. Proceed," Doolittle ordered calmly. She silently pointed a finger at Finch.

"Jawohl, Kommandanten,” the Lieutenant nodded.

Finch swung himself over the door of the car, not bothering with the handle. He vaulted over the hood of the car and grabbed onto the hull of Farkas' Ziesel III. With the last of his momentum, he pulled himself up and settled in next to the surprised tank commander.

"Stick to the plan!" Doolittle shouted after him. "Take the next objective as fast as possible!"

"I got it! Let's move!"

"Panzers, advance!" Farkas ordered his unit.

The tanks took off, one after another in two lines, quickly catching up to the fleeing enemy infantry. The tanks fired indiscriminately at their targets. Not a single bullet was fired in return.

Augustus eased the car forward over the debris-littered pavement. She turned a corner in an attempt to catch up with the Kleiner Baum infantry. Two more turns brought the pair closer to the edge of town, on increasingly narrow roads.

"Incoming!"

The car came to a stop. Augustus instinctively threw her arm over the commander as soon as she heard the distinctive sound of a mortar shell landing. The dust cloud drifted over the shingle roofs of townhouses. As soon as Augustus recovered from her initial shock, she sped off through the rubble-crowded street.

"There!" Doolittle shouted "Stop!"

A plain concrete building with sandbags lining the roof was just visible over the rooftops. Augustus took another corner and halted the car with a loud screech.

About two dozen Kleiner Baum soldiers had entrenched themselves in the street. Trash cans, cars, and crates provided cover for the infantry. Bullets streamed from machine-guns, hammering away at the walls and windows.
The occupants of the building returned fire with their V-11 rifles and various sub-machine guns.

Two soldiers who hadn't taken cover in time lay dead in the street. The body of one of the stronghold's former defenders sat twisted and pressed against the wall; Twenty feet above him was a shattered window.

"Get ready!" called the commander of the platoon.

Doolittle motioned for Augustus to duck. She picked up her rifle from the floor of the car, loaded it, and took aim. A hand came into view through the shattered glass of a window on the top floor.

"Blow the door!"

It all happened in the space of a few seconds: The gunfire stopped as everyone took cover. A grenade was lobbed through a lower window. The door of the stronghold flew off of its hinges. Glass shot outward into the street as the suppressive fire resumed. Rather than immediately storming the building, the attackers held their positions. Bullets returned from every window except for those right next to the door.

The figure in Doolittle's sights soon revealed himself to be a soldier clutching a P-05 pistol. The man had almost taken aim with his weapon, when Doolittle pulled her rifle's trigger.

"Harriet, down!" ordered Augustus.

Two bullets shattered the windshield of the command car. Doolittle crouched in the back seat of the car and took aim with her rifle once more, this time away from the stronghold. She scanned the rooftops and windows of buildings lining the street for the sniper.

The report echoed. The bullet left a small dent in the door of the car. This time, the rest of the platoon took notice of the unseen attacker. A pair of soldiers swung their machine-gun around and began firing randomly upon the building.

Ping! Ping! Ping! Ping! The stream of bullets ricocheted off of metal sheets.

A large blast rocked the foundation of the armory. Two more immediately followed it, showering Doolittle, Augustus, and the rest of the platoon in rubble and dirt. A two-story house crumpled into nothing, leaving a clear line of sight for Doolittle to see what was behind the blasts.

Six howitzers sat on a short ridge overlooking the village. A man rode back and forth behind the cannons, on the back of a spotted horse.

“Thank you, O'Nell,” Doolittle thought to herself. The howitzers fired off a second volley. This time, the shells sailed over the stronghold, towards the center of the town.

"Hold your fire!" Doolittle ordered.

The soldiers looked up in surprise. A tense moment of waiting passed, silent except for the distant sounds of gunfire and cannons. On the rooftop of the armory, the flag of Husaria was lowered. A white sheet was slowly raised in its place. Doolittle nodded towards Augustus, who quickly handed the commander a microphone.

"Lay down your weapons and exit the building," her voice came through the loudspeaker. "If you wish to join us, please stand to the left. If you wish to accept your defeat with dignity, stand to the right. If you attempt to continue fighting, every last one of you will be shot. Versteht ihr?"

The Husarians did as they were told. Roughly thirty men and women spilled into the street. Most chose to defect, rather than risk imprisonment or worse in the heart of Kleiner Baum. Those who had pledged their loyalty to their home were made to face the wall with rifles pointed at their backs.

"Let me out," Doolittle ordered Augustus. "I need to go inside. The rest of you, occupy the building. You may take whatever isn't nailed down."

Cheers erupted from the platoon. Augustus quickly opened the door of the car and lowered the ladder for her friend to disembark. Doolittle slowly strode through the crumbling doorway of the armory, paying no attention to the confused stares and harsh glares she received.

Doolittle climbed the spiraling stairwell. Every so often, she would pass a
window and see her first victory. Across the village, people surrendered en masse. Horse-drawn wagons filled with prisoners and corpses made the trek back to the border. Faster vehicles moved in nearly all directions from the village.

‘I wonder how Finch is doing’, Doolittle thought to herself.

At the end of the stairway was a single wooden door. It had been undamaged during the brief siege. Doolittle suddenly stopped when she heard something moving behind the door. She leveled her rifle, counted to three, and kicked in the door.

"Lay down your weapon and surrender!" she roared.

To her surprise, there was no verbal reply. She didn't even hear the 'click' of the gun of a soldier planning an ambush. Rather, the noises she had heard were coming from the corner of the room, on top of a small table.

"Well that’s not much," Doolittle muttered to herself.

"Kommandanten? What did you find?" called a soldier from downstairs.

A gray pigeon hopped in circles within the confines of its cage. A piece of paper sat beside the enclosure. The rest of the room was in disarray. The windows had been thrown open and furniture had been overturned. Spots of blood stained the creaking wooden floor.

Doolittle approached the pigeon. She smiled at the curious little bird before turning her attention towards the paper.

"Field Marshall Szanto," the note read. "Several Kleiner Baum divisions have taken over the village and the surrounding hamlets. Garrison at Houghton Armory has been overrun. Bridges have been destroyed. Allied airfields are destroyed. Air detachment at Springtime has been wiped out. Major Geissler, Major Niklasson, Major Mareck, Lieutenant Colonel Pasternack, and Major Younger were killed in action. Major Salazar is missing in action--"

Doolittle put her rifle down and produced a pen from her coat's pocket. Without a second thought, she put it to the paper and picked up where the note left off;

“Commander Szanto. You have lost. Surrender immediately, or face Kleiner Baum's full strength. Signed, Harriet Marie Josephine."

Doolittle's eyes followed the bloodstains across the floor. Her gaze fell upon the body pressed against the wall, just underneath the window. A spray of glass and rocks had made the soldier's face completely unrecognizable. Even their tags had been rendered illegible by debris.

Commander Doolittle looked through the window. She scanned the horizon and quickly spotted what she was looking for. Rooftops poked above the trees on a hill. The sky was filled with columns of dark smoke and low-hanging contrails. Listening closely, Doolittle heard the sound of artillery firing.

Doolittle rolled up her note and tied it to the leg of the pigeon. The bird cocked its head, blinking one eye at a time. Doolittle carried it in one hand towards an opened window.

"Fly away, little bird."

The commander thrust the pigeon through the window. She stopped to watch the bird flap and flail desperately above the war-torn village. It made its way over the battlefield, disappearing as a gray dot over the hills.

"What are you doing, Harriet?" asked Augustus, now entering the room.

Doolittle said nothing. The pigeon continued on its way, determined on returning to what it knew as its home.