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Breakthru was complete.

All that stood between Ilvanich and a warm bath with some women he would appropriate  at the outskirts of the next town was  the next few kilometers of tree lined roads.

The nameless village ahead was so picturesque it made him sad for mother Russia. How was it that everything in Western Germany and now France was in such wonderful condition? Buildings that were centuries old looked grand and graceful, newer construction was similar to Russian motifs in that it was constructed concrete. That was where the similarity ended. The administrative buildings of these cousin Socialists had a scale to them and a sense of place that made him feel squat and ugly in his command BMP.

Nevertheless he was at war not on an architectural tour. His command lead elements slowed to enter the town ahead.

Despite the sense of confidence he had after the early successes of his actions in this new World War he wanted to live to see then end.  He ordered the BRMD and BTR up front to accelerate ahead and look for trouble.

The French had fought hard, but were shocked at the speed and numbers of the breakthrough Soviet forces. Surely they realized they were no match for us after the drubbing the NATO armies had taken he thought.

Then the Radio message came thru, there was movement down the road. Sighing, Ilvanich ordered his men to deploy and advance on foot with cover from his tanks.

The  first sporadic rounds of fire started up as the BTR and T-72 roll into view. Then the crashing boom of their main gun, silenced all for a few precious moments.  Illvanich smiled. “Your going to have to do better than that if you want to ambush me, you soft little Frenchies” he thought to himself.

The 48^th Motorized was a fast moving, high powered Battalion. Illvanich had spent a long time killing bandits in the Afghan mountains, no one was going to ambush him in this picturesque scenery! There would be death and sacrifice, his men knew that, however they also knew he would mitigate the losses unlike some Soviet Commanders and Political officers.

His attention was drawn to the sound of several vehicles entering the fray to his South. “Get an RPG team over there ASAP! “ He called to his squad leader.  “ Those dam AMX 10P’s were to be respected” He said, “ with their high fire rate, they had the potential to tear us BMP’s a new assehole, now move, move”

The T-72 turrent whirred and adjusted to face the new threat. The AMX, was racing across the early summer crops to the treelined road and some marginal cover, when the main gun roared.  The flash and roar of exploding fuel was enough to tell the tale.  “Good, Good, no match for my beasts” He chuckled. His forces were now arrayed in a line across the front of the two pockets of resistance. They were trying to interdict the road junction, yet had clustered a lot of men nearby it.  “Surely they have an anti tank team somewhere” he thought. He ordered 2 scout vehicles forward as bait.

His bait was set, he now waited for less war seasoned French to take it.  The lead elements of his tank column would arrive shortly, if they were quick he could still make that hot bath in a cozy house!  In fact, lets get things moving, he thought. “ Signalman, put an arty request in on those buildings, where the shooting is coming from” “ The rest of you prepare to rush the intersection and engage.”

As the Shells rained down, the BMPs and troops moved up, trusting the accuracy of their gunnery. Despite the shelling the French advanced a MBT up the road into range. “Shit, bad timing.” said Illvanich, to no one in particular, now his vehicles were closing on the Shell shocked troopers, and a fricken AMX 30 was bearing down on them. “This bath is going to be expensive.” he thought to himself.

“Tank, Tank, bearing  220 degrees” came the call. The AMX 30 was nestled behind a stone wall, its shots went wide of the mark, first the 105mm, then the 20mm cannon sent round after round at the BMPs pressing up against the French hunkered in their  foxholes.

“There it is, there, shoot that freaking Milan team!!” Came a sergeant’s urgent call as he directed the BMPs to its whereabouts. High caliber rounds stitched the dirt in and around the deadly Milan, whose crew bravely attempted to fire, but could not withstand the hail of lead poured in its direction.

Illvanich, saw the BTR brew up from a direct hit on it from the AMX 10-p next to the  French tank. “ Get that dam thing in the trees, “ Where is the RPG team?”

“ Dam it men, move your arses” Boom, went the 105mm of the French AMX 30, this time there was no missing. A BMP smoldered. “Shit” Said Illvanich. “We are in trouble here,” he thought “ we got to contain that Tank.” Just then the thru the smoke he saw another explosion….”oh WTF” He murmured. The AMX 10-P broadsided the BRDM. It too was now toast.

“ahhh, Colonel…Drag..Drago is running across the field alone Sir?” Said his observer. “Jesus are you shitting me?” Said Illvanich. As he looked, he saw where the OB was pointing and sure enough, weaving thru the wrecks, smoke and debris, Drago was sneaking up on the French MBT.

As Drago tries to close, sneaking thru low vegetable patches, and inching up along the stone wall gains a position in a blind spot.

Just as he is about the launch his attack, the last AMX 10, approaches, cutting off his line of approach!

Illvanich pounds his fist on the wall.  More bad news, he has lost a squad and 2 vehicles are tied up on the Northern end of the battlefield. One French squad has stubbornly refused to yield, pinning down his flanking efforts.  He rubbed his tired dirty face, and thought hard.

One of the BMP commanders seeing Drago pinned by the stonewall, veers to his support. He drives at high speed, heedless of his own safety, to provide covering fire and support.

He attempts to distract the AMX 30 from the flank at point blank range. Whilst his cannon has little chance of success, perhaps the maneuver will give Drago time to finish his close assault!  The shots ricochet off the thick armor, and the machineguns have no effect. But wait!

What is this! Illvanich, can’t believe his eyes.

The French tank, hatches all pop!

The crew is bailing out? Insane. Something must of happened inside the tank to force an abandon.

Illvanich cant believe his luck! He laughs, now he can mop up this mess. “ Forward men, forward” he orders.

All the remaining vehicles storm across the open ground guns blazing.

Drago and a half squad, assault and kill the Tank crew. The French, whilst beaten choose to fight to the bitter end for the Fatherland.  While he had respect for that, he wanted no prisoners. Armor piercing grenade launchers fired, with no effect at his tanks who who had now closed in on the buildings that hid the last of the French units.

105mm rounds started to take their toll.

The men of the 48^th Motorized Battalion, leaned against vehicles, and the buildings were pounded to rubble, along with all inside.

With a sigh of satisfaction, he reports his activities and announces to the men that the tonight they would honor the dead from both sides, with wine and good food, in comfort, and European style. First however he would take that long bath, and have his men round up the women for a little fun, even if it was at the point of a gun.

“Move Out” He called over the radio.