Pokrewne

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Chelsea Handler Chelsea Chelsea Bang Bang (epub
Brit Brinson [Dia of the Dead Dia of the Dead (epub)
Cody Goodfellow [Radiant Dawn Radiant Dawn (epub)
Cate Tiernan [Immortal Belove Immortal Beloved (epub)
C J Busby [Deep Amber 01] Deep Amber (retail) (epub)
Carl Ashmore [Time Hunters 01 The Time Hunters (epub)
Drew Hayes [Super Powereds 02 Super Powereds Year 2 (epub) i
Beth Harbison [Shoe Addict 02 Secrets of a Shoe Addict (epub)
Cara Lynn Shultz [Dark World The Dark World (retail) (epub)
Cameron Dane [Foster Siblings Brokedown Hearts [Loose Id MM]

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."Who's this, Teacher?""Our new pup.He's our new hull gunner and radio operator.Felix bought it."Another gone.Nothing else could be said – or was."Ich hat eine Kamaraden."Langer shook his head in the negative."No, Teacher.I want Stefan on the radio.He'll work as the loader until he's broken in.Looks like he has good hands on him and at his age, he's probably quick and that's important.""Come here, boy.Your name?""Manfried Ertl, Herr Feldwebel." He did everything but click heels."All right, Manny.You're one of us now and how much you pay attention and how quick you learn will determine how long you live.While you're with us, you will be one of us and this piece of tin will be your home.Take care of it.The Feldwebel crap you can forget.Just do as you are told and do it quickly."Simultaneously, a thousand heads cocked themselves to the east listening."Jabos! Hit the dirt!"Like magic, men sought every piece of low ground and cover they could find.Carl grabbed the boy's arm and jerked him away from the tank, screaming, "Get away from the tank.It's the first thing they go for." Throwing the boy behind some brush, he buried his face in the dry dust.Gorges of earth erupted, followed by brain-rupturing explosions.Soviet fighter bombers had spotted the tanks below and were determined not to let them get into action.One after another, they burst in oily blasts of flame as fuel tanks were hit.Counterfire came from a Luftwaffe Flak unit using quad-mounted MG-42 light machine guns that could fire 2,400 rounds a minute each, pouring a stream of death into the dodging and darting Ilyuhsins with the red stars and smiling pilots who sensed an easy kill on the tanks below.The sitting Panthers were defenseless against the attack.A leg in a camouflaged trouser landed next to Langer's face, the foot still moving from side to side at the ankle.It didn't know it was dead yet.Screams mingled with the staccato machine-gun fire and roaring thumps of blasting bombs, accented by the heavier Pom Pom of 20 mm5s getting into action.Gus ran dodging and twisting, throwing himself to the side of Langer, his steel pot giving him the look of an oversized Russian beetle."Welcome home.I hope you appreciate how much trouble we went to, to have this display of fireworks for you." Spitting out a mouthful of red dust, he absently eyed the detached leg."Wonder what size boot that is.I got a hole big enough to stuff a field marshal through in mine." Taking the foot, he looked at the boot, puckered his mouth and then tossed it and the leg farther away."Wrong foot."CHAPTER TWOThe Soviets finished their bombing-and-strafing runs, red stars and white trim clearly visible in the clear air.Their flight leader gave one lazy victory roll over the burning tanks below and followed his squadron, content to have sent a proper Russian welcome to the Nazis below.Such was his self-content that he never noticed the dark specks diving on him from twenty thousand feet.His first indication of something wrong came when his instrument panel was blown up by a burst from the 30mm cannon in the nose of the Gustav (Messerschmitt fighter), leading the swarm of four ME-109s now pouncing on the Shtormoviks that had done such slaughter below on their comrades.Captain Ilye Popel, winner of the Order of Suvarov II class, screamed as the interior of his cockpit filled with flames, licking at his face, burning his hands into black charred stubs as he tried to control the wild earthward spin of his plane.His screams stopped when he was forced to take another breath in order to continue.Instead of air, his lungs filled with smoke and fire; mercifully he was dead four seconds before his aircraft disintegrated into a cloud of smoke and fire as it plowed into the field of ripening sugar beets below.Three others of his group shared his fate before the next ten seconds passed.The tankers and Panzergrenadiers below cheered as the Luftwaffe at least paid off a few of the bastards.Langer pulled himself up from the sheltering earth and kicked Gus in the ass with the boot toe."All right, hero, get up and let's see what damages have been done."Calling for Teacher and the others to join them, they checked their Panther.Luckily, only a near miss had gone off by them and there was no major damage, only a couple of bogie wheels that would have to lie replaced and, a section of tread.The rest of the day was spent burying the dead and gathering up the separate parts of those who had been blown into bits and burying all the pieces together.They had long since stopped trying to match parts up with the proper owners.It was 1 July.With nightfall, Langer, Gus and the others settled down into the comfortable bunker they had appropriated from the previous occupants, who were now some ten miles distant, and began their interminable game of cards with Gus cheating as usual, but doing it so badly he usually lost anyway, so the others never let on they knew what he was doing.At ten hundred hours, Langer told them it was time to call it quits.They would have to work their asses off the next few days to get the tank in shape and familiarize themselves with it.Their previous mode of transportation, the old reliable Mark IV, had long since gone to that great scrap heap in the sky.Surely there was a Nordic Valhalla for all the good German tanks that died for the Reich and the Fuhrer.Langer took the first watch even though they were well behind the front.Too many times units had been caught with their pants down when Ivan would make one of the unexpected lunges and a group of T-34s would come raging on them in the dark.At close quarters, the 76 mms they mounted could even take out one of the new Tigers that Doctor Porsche, their inventor, was so proud of.Propping himself on the commander's seat, Langer leaned half out of the hatch and checked the MG-34, which he had scrounged earlier and mounted.Dragging deep on the cigarette butt he held cupped in his hands, Langer studied the moonlit countryside, now so quiet, broken only by the sounds of a man snoring or sentry cursing quietly as he stumbled in the dark.“Soon.” The feeling was there and Langer had learned to believe his intuitions.This would be a big one; all the earmarks were there.The long lines of infantry men moving up into positions to their left, trains by the hundreds bringing in the new tanks, and replacement stockpiles of munitions and supplies being built up in the rear.Reaching into the pocket of his camouflaged jacket, he took out a small bottle of white tablets, shook two out and popped them.Benzedrine.One of the marvels of modern pharmaceutical developments.Soon, soon.They would be back in it.Ivan had gotten a lot smarter in the last year and a lot tougher.One thing was certain, hell waited out there in the dark.The sleeping forms of his crew were only blacker masses in the darkness.Each had found a spot that suited him and curled up for the night wrapped in blankets like cocoons, the soft sounds of their shifting in their sleep were familiar; each had his own sounds [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]