Len Gilbert - The Furred Reich

“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.

“Sir,” Kasha’s adjutant spoke up. “We are nearly out of explosives. Shall I tell everyone to retreat south to Master Sepp’s line?”

Kasha knew that Sepp would be surrounded and several northern villages would be exposed if they did that.

“No. Reduce the line to four sections and tell them to bunch together. We hold here or we die.”

“This is it…” Sepp muttered out.

The dragoons had performed well, but there weren’t enough rope throwers left to stop the fresh line of wolftaurs coming for them. Screams bounced between the hardened walls of that trench. He dropped the whistle from his lips and hoisted up the crossbow. They were coming again, and there would be no stopping this wave from getting into the trench. A bold Greenskin charged ahead at the front, and Sepp dropped him in one quick shot, then ducked back into the trench where he was greeted by the sound of iron smashing on metal tripods.

“Master help me!”

Rokura was crawling on the floor with his arm amputated and a Greenskin aiming his blood-stained ax elsewhere. Sepp turned and unsheathed his officer’s pistol and pierced the monster’s skull before it could do more.

He ran over to Rokura and knelt down. The tripod had been smashed open.

“Help me Master Sepp I want to go home,” he cried out, still crawling helplessly toward him.

“Don’t even talk, Rokura. You don’t have to. I’m sorry. I wish I could have been a better leader for you.”

Rokura’s blood still spurt out into the stony dirt. Sepp’s adjutant wouldn’t make it through this. The cut was too high. Sepp put the gun to Rokura’s head, looked away and pulled the trigger.

“Another one…” He put his hand down on the wolf’s still warm body, then stood up and pointed his handgun, looking for the next close-quarter target.

“Herr Generaloberst, this section is free of enemies!”

Siptrott’s clear voice rang out as Sepp hilted his pistol and picked up the crossbow.

“The line has held. Heavy losses everywhere. Kapitan says more Wolftaurs on the way.”

“Thank you Siptrott. Tell them to gather the dragoons.”

Sepp took his whistle and blew three times into it; the signal for the ‘anti-wolftaur’ formation. He waded through thick smoke and the stench of death to survey the platoon’s defenses. Instead, he saw young Werner Kindler strapping on dynamite.

“Herr Generaloberst,” Kindler turned to address Dietrich.

“What’s going on here,” Sepp demanded.

“Mein Generaloberst. There are no dragoons remaining so I — I am going to be the Sapper,” Kindler said in a shaky voice.

Sepp grabbed Werner by the collar and shoved the young man against the icy trench wall.

“No, no, stop it.” Sepp took the dynamite out from under Kindler’s belt.

“That’s enough! I just had to put down my adjutant and I’m not going to let you do this. You haven’t even reached your sixteenth birthday, have you?”

“No, Herr Generaloberst, I haven’t.”

“That won’t do,” Dietrich tucked the dynamite sticks under his Bavarian Army-issued officer’s belt.

“Sir, what?”

“Listen. My useful life as a soldier is coming to an end. I won’t be useful much longer, not in this world. I’ve lived to fight, and fought to live. Though your life might be different.”

“Herr Ge—”

“That’s enough, I said! You aren’t going to die today,” he patted Kindler on the shoulder and smiled.

“Tell Jochen he has command when he gets here.”

Already the snarls were drawing closer. The last dragoons in other sections were mounting what defense they could.

“Cover for me, Werner.”

“Ahm — yes, yes sir.”

Kindler nodded and struggled to pick up Sepp’s crossbow as the Generaloberst climbed up over the edge. It wasn’t hard to find the Wolftaur enemy. They were everywhere. Sepp lit the fuse and ran forward. A nearby Greenskin charged at Sepp to stop him, but a ballista arrow flew overhead and ran the monster through. Kindler had done well.

Sepp doubled down and sprinted at the wolftaur’s underbelly. He began the count in his mind.

“YOU LACK DISCIPLINE!”

Sepp reached down, immediately threw the dynamite away and fell to the ground.

Within seconds a hail of hot bullets, grenade and even mortar fire crashed down on the attacking monsters. It was joined by the dynamite explosion, which blew up harmlessly away from him.

“Get him out of there!” Another voice yelled out, this one much more familiar.

Dietrich crawled out of the path of fire and rolled into the trench with a thud. Behind him came Jochen Peiper. He ran up and manned the spot in front of Sepp.

“There you are…”

In between rounds Jochen turned and smiled as if it were 1941 again.

“How in the world did you so suddenly know we were here?” Peiper asked Sepp.

“I heard a voice shouting behind me. It was unmistakably Austrian.”

The trench was clearing out and now both humans and wolves were shouting on the attack, slaughtering the confused monsters and going on the offensive.

“Tell Gefreiter Kindler to give me back my damned crossbow,” Sepp grinned.

“Your crossbow?”

“Yes. We need to get on the offensive right now. We’re already well behind the other Kompanies, and I don’t intend on giving all the glory to Werner Poetschke.”

Chug-chug-chug-chug-chug

Kasha’s heart sank as he heard the strange noise approaching fast from behind. The monsters had likely penetrated the line somewhere and were now attacking from both sides.

“What the gods IS that?” One of the tripod men barked, haggard and already unnerved.

“I don’t know.”

Kasha lifted his fieldglass to see an unwordly machine speeding and swerving crazily towards them.

“It’s humans…” Kasha said aloud so all could hear.

The kompanie didn’t have to wait long. The machine came bellowing up to the dugout and screeched out, hurling snow inside. Two humans leaped out of the machine, bringing a side bag with them.