Reichsadler | Teen Ink


July 11, 2015
By MasterSun SILVER, Las Vegas, Nevada
MasterSun SILVER, Las Vegas, Nevada
7 articles 0 photos 12 comments

Favorite Quote:
"History is written by the victors"- Winston Churchill

Prologue: January 15,1942
  World War II is on the rise, but for Hitler, the tides of war are changing from the west. America has just joined the war, and on the eastern front the Russian army has managed to push back the Nazi’s. But Hitler is not done yet. Instead, he launches Operation Reichsadler(German for imperial eagle). He plans to penetrate the Russian front lines and blitzkrieg through to the key industrial town of Korst home to many massive weapon-producing factories. With this attack Russia's tank reserves will dwindle and they won't be able to produce new tanks to fight off the Germans. If Russia falls, Hitler will able to focus all his attention on the western front.
The Russian front lines, 0400 hours, five hundred miles from Korst.
         The bright stars peaked out from the blanket of thick darkness. The stars burn like lights on a Christmas tree, giving light to the tankers. The eerie silence of the night cuts like a sword through the hearts of the Russian tankers. On top of the gently sloping hill the Russian’s lay camouflaged in the thick long brown grass. As the German tanks wait in the darkness tucked into the base of the hill, readying themselves like predators about to pounce on its prey. The radio crackles to life and a determined voice shrieks out “Panzers forward”. Out of the long brown grass hundreds of German Tiger tanks fire out with deadly accuracy their rounds streak through the air weaving a smooth and ribbon like trail of light.  Tracer bullets fly out, illuminating the night with a fierce red glow. Boom, the shells explode as they make contact with the Russian T-34’s piercing the armor like a knife through butter. The tanks roll on towards the top of the hill, blazing a path of fire as they go it seems like nothing can stop them. The T-34’s erupt in an array of colors and noise filling the night with a light show.
         “This is battalion commander Michael Wittmann casualty reports? ” asks the voice through the radio.
         “No casualties commander,” returns a rough voice.
         “Good, all units forward to Korst.” Tracks turn and the dust kicks out from the ground mixing with the smoke creating a dusty ash.

Russian Central Command 0430 hours.
          The Russian command center is in chaos with operators receiving attack reports from all across the countryside. 
“Commander we have reports of simultaneous attacks all over the front lines” screams the operator throwing his headset to the floor.
         “They need support send our reserves to the northern front,” replies the commander, tapping his hand against his forehead in frustration.
         “Sir, how about the central area? If they breach it they have a straight pathway into the Motherland”
         “Please, private, the nearest city is hundreds of miles away just obey your orders” shouts Field Marshal Manning from the other side of the room with a look of annoyance on his face. Every officer in the building stands up and gives the marshal in respect.
         “Officers to the conference room for a briefing” announces Manning and a large posse of people followed him in.
         “Central Command, where should we go?” asks an exhausted and nervous voice over the radio.
With a sigh the operator responds “All reserves to the north”

January 19,1942, 250 miles from Korst.
It has been three days since the start of the German offensive; the Russians sent their reserves to the north away from the real attack. The Germans encounter very little resistance, as they get closer to their objective, Korst. By the time the Russians realize their mistake it’s already too late their tanks on the front are damaged and the ones that survived can’t match the sheer speed of the blitzkrieg. The German high command had timed the attack well that the Russian air force is grounded due to the heavy snow and thick cloud cover. The only option left to the Russians, send their fresh recruits with no prior experience to fight the battle-hardened tankers of the Third Reich.
“Commander, where should we take up position,"asks a curious voice.
"Over there up that hill, the Germans would see us till its too late," the men were nervous after all they were just trainees not professional soldiers. The sun was barely visible high in the sky, it was being covered by the heavy cloud of dust rising above the horizon a sign that the Germans were near.
The Russians wait as the German tanks approach closer into the pass. Shot after shot follows the German Tigers as they make their make way through the pass. Most of them end up bouncing off the heavily plated armor of the Tiger. Some loosely held rocks catches the commander's eyes.
"Tigers, shoot the ground underneath them its unstable," shouts Commander Whittmann. The Germans turn their attention to the ground and shells dig into the soft venerable dirt. The very Earth begins to shake and it gives away. "Whats happening?" screams the a Russian tanker as his tank is tossed around in the air.
"It's a damn landslide," replies another.
"Forward," shouts Whitmann again and the Germans narrowly miss being buried alive. "Advance before the Russians start up again," he finishes. With all Russian resistance silenced the Germans finally have the clear path they want. The next day the arrive at Korst.
"Burn every factory to the ground and kill anyone who tries to stop you," with that order the town's fate is decided. Screaming men and women rush out of the factories as the stone bricks crumble down, marked with the scorches of fire.  The German objective is realized.

The Next Day, Korst

A man in a drak grey shirt rushes past the crumbling ruins of stone and brick into a abandoned house.

"Commander, I just received word that Hitler is dead."

The author's comments:

I like history.

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