Southern Front of Stalingrad — Sector 9KJanuary 29, 1943, 6:05 p.m.
Falk's Tiger stood firm—smoking, cracked on the outside… intact within.
The Panther to his left kept rotating its turret endlessly, like a mad but loyal beast. The last two surviving tanks of the platoon were still holding the western breach. A few meters behind, the final Panzer IV burned in its steel grave, the echo of its last shot still hanging in the air.
—They've pulled back... —Ernst murmured.
—It's not a retreat —Falk said, eyes fixed ahead—. It's the silence before the thunder.
Konrad, soaked in cold sweat, reloaded slowly. The Tiger had fired so many times that its gun felt alive—pulsing with each new shell.
—High explosive rounds. Only five armor-piercing left —Helmut reported.
—And less fuel than bullets —added Lukas, with a bitter grin.
The radio was still dead. No command, no answers. Only static.
6:12 p.m.
In the distance, engines rumbled again. New ones. Deeper. Heavier. These weren't just T-34s anymore.
—KV-1s! And… oh God… an IS-1! —Ernst shouted.
—How the hell…? —Konrad whispered.
—Early prototype. Intelligence didn't lie... —Falk muttered tensely—. They want to break us.
The IS-1 advanced like a black steel colossus, flanked by infantry and medium tanks. This was the final hammer blow. If they held, the corridor might remain open. If they fell… it would close on the entire Sixth Army.
6:16 p.m.
—Konrad, the AP rounds are yours. Don't miss.
—At this range, there's no room for mistakes —the gunner replied with a cold look—. Just luck… or damnation.
The Panther fired first. Its shell pierced a KV-1, but didn't stop the IS-1. The Soviet tank answered with a mechanical growl and a shot that sent dirt and shrapnel flying just meters from the Tiger.
Falk didn't wait.
—Fire!
The Tiger's cannon roared, launching one of its last armor-piercing shells. The round slammed into the enemy's armor. The IS-1 halted… but didn't burn.
—Didn't penetrate! —Ernst yelled.
—Tracks, Konrad. Cripple it.
—Loading.
6:19 p.m.
The Tiger fired again. This time the shell struck low, beneath the left side. The IS-1 leaned… and stopped. No explosion. But it wasn't moving anymore.
—That'll do. Now, the rest —Falk ordered.
The Panther seized the moment, firing two more shots. Both hit home. The T-34s fell. But the infantry kept advancing.
—They're surrounding us!
6:22 p.m.
Falk climbed down into the Tiger's lower compartment. He drew his pistol. Not in desperation—out of habit. He climbed back up.
—Konrad, Helmut, Ernst. No wasted shots. Every shell, a grave.
The air burned once more. And though night had fallen, the sky seemed to glow with the red hue of molten steel.
Beside them, the Panther still stood. Ahead, an entire army came for them.
And still, they stood.