Twilight of the Gods; November 16th

I grumbled as I smacked my speaker. Damn thing cut out. Music makes everything better, witness the stupidly long range shots we'd been landing just a few short minutes ago. I glanced up as another round flew a few dozen feet above my head.

"Gunner!"

"Fuer!" He shouted half a second before my ears started to ring as the blast of the gun shook my chest.

I shouted, barely hearing my muted voice. God damn it! Where had my hearing protection gone? I glanced around the turret, seeing them laying under the breech. I quickly grabbed the headset and jammed them on my head before turning back to my speaker.

I whacked the thing again and I felt the vibrations of the music, though hearing it was beyond me at present. This damn tank wasn't as loud as my old howitzer… close but not the same. I grumbled to myself as I closed the hatch and peered through the sight. 2nd tank division was streaming into the city now that the heights were cleared. Dozens of small little firefights were breaking out as positions were stormed.

"Sierra 6, Headquarters." a faint call on the radio broke through the ringing in my ears. I grabbed the headset, keying my mic.

"Send traffic Headquarters." I replied, straining my ears to hear the faint reply.

"Piron captured objective Echo, moving on objective Whiskey." I grinned. So Regina had taken Edwards and was moving to block the pass? She was moving quicker than I'd expected. Hopefully the losses were not too high.

"Herr General!" I caught a glimpse of the gunner waving his hand at me. He pointed at my hatch, gesturing for me to open it.

I glanced at the vision port to see several dozen T-90s surrounding us, firing away at Barstow and squads of Spestnaz dismounting their BMPs. Damn… my valiant protectors had arrived to ruin my fun. Suddenly a pair of boots blocked my vision port and I heard someone trying to open the hatch. I tightened the hatch.

"Driver! Forward!" I shouted. I heard a muffled laugh as the tank slowly started easing forward.

A smile crept over my face as I began to hear the music from my speaker again. "All units, this is Sierra 6, attack!" I shouted as the music to perhaps one of my favorite songs started.

"In the dawn they will pay, with their lives as the price. History's written today, in this burning inferno. Know that nothing remains, as our forces advance on the beach." I looked around to see the infantry scrambling to remount their vehicles as the tanks started racing after me. The gunner and I shared wide grins. We laughed as he turned back to his sight.

The gunner sighted on a target, the breach rocked back as a round soared downrange, instantly the autoloader took over, ejecting the spent casing out of the turret as the carousel fed another round into the waiting breech. I looked outside, watching as what felt like the whole division raced into the town.

Was this the future of modern warfare? A circling back to strategies and tactics of the 80s and 90s? A flight of Su-25s raced a few dozen feet above the ground, plastering most of the eastern end of Barstow with their ordnance, a pair hurtling into the mountainside streaming black as the rest raced to get out of Black Horse's anti air coverage.

The whole division surged forward, almost as if they were fueled by our enemies growing fear. This violent escalation of carnage. Overwhelming firepower paved the way, aided by copious maneuver. With the initiative gained the advance became a rolling self sustaining tide as positions were being continuously being overrun.

American troops, perhaps knowing, partially accepting their fate, fought viciously. Every building a new battle, every room its own siege as American cavalry troopers fought in close quarters with East German motor schutzen. When twice beaten back from storming a building a T-72 or BMP3 was brought up, quickly leveling the building with a HE round or long bursts of 30mm autocannon fire.

The Soldiers swept through the city bloc by block. Bloody and tired they collapsed as the last buildings were cleared. A bloody 45 minutes as every possible desperate measure was used, every trick and scheme was attempted to stop the inevitable onrushing tide. Corpses and vehicles littered the city.

Abrams with shell filled turrets burning merrily away while their barrels stared down T-72s no more than a few dozen yards away. BMP3s that were lodged into Bradleys that they'd accidentally found as they rounded corners at full speed. I sighed heavily, staring at the sandy, rock cracked mountains to my north… Barstow, was ours.

A brief pause, allow the follow-on units to take over the advance before finishing off the rest of Black Horse and taking the national training center. I slowly opened the hatch of my tank, peering around at the small marshalling areas as platoons and companies took stock of their losses, already the lead elements of 1.Motor Schutzen regiment were starting to drive through the city.

I pursed my lips. Was Siska not going to give her division a half hour's rest? I glanced around at the growing number of T-90s around me. If the Germans weren't going to stop… Why should I? Time to drive the message home.

"Forward!"