Do you like tanks? We like tanks! So we’ve taken the most incredible tank battles that we’ve covered and put them together in this amazing compilation of 7 tank battles. It’s September 18th,1939, in the Polish countryside near the village of Pociecha. Section Commander Edmund Roman Orlik leads three TKS tankettes as they scour the land for the enemy.

“Stop!” The tankettes come to an abrupt halt as Orlik hears something… He listens closer, it sounds like tanks, it is tanks and they’re coming in from the right. It has to be the enemy. He orders 2 machine gun tankettes to stand back as he knows they can’t do anything against armor… It’s all up to him. Orlik orders his driver to take them off road to the left and the little tank hunter springs into action, forcing its way through the weeds and bushes.

The small engines rev loudly inside the fighting compartment, and the small size makes them buckle violently backward and forth with every bump. Unfazed Orlik makes it to a position overlooking the crossroads with a bush for concealment. The tankettes are tiny two man vehicles with a machine gun. Orlik’s TKS replaced the machine gun with the 20mm autocannon capable of firing 5 round magazines in less than a second.

Orlik has his attention forward, peeking through his sight, waiting in ambush. Before him is an empty crossroads, the sounds of engines and tracks ominously growing ever louder. The German tanks are on a routine patrol and are “buttoned up” with the hatches closed. No Polish forces have been spotted here for at least a few days.

Inside the lead tank is Platoon commander, Victor IV Albrecht von Ratibor. He’s German nobility and the eldest son and heir to the Duke of Ratibor. He’s in a Panzer IV B and has good frontal armor and even the sides can hold off small arms and sometimes anti-tank shells. Despite being in the biggest tank on the Polish battlefield, Von Ratibor is careful when approaching the crossroads.

The German tanks slow. “Nobody’s here”. Forward! Orlik’s eyes widen as the German war machine rolls into view. Their ambush has worked. The Germans don’t know they’re there. With nerves of steel and under the concealment of the bush, Orlik calmly takes aim for the white cross emblazoned on the side of the Panzer’s turret and fires a single shot.

A bang breaks the natural calm and a single 20mm shell zips for its target. It strikes square on the tank’s turret side, piercing clean through. There’s chaos inside the German tank as it stops in its tracks. The hatches open and smoke streams from the hatches of the stricken Panzer. The driver and a member of the turret crew rush out of the wreck leaving their commander behind.

A TKS hidden in the bushes doesn’t wait for orders and opens fire with its machinegun. The 2 crewmen fall, never to rise. Now, behind the smoking wreck of the Panzer IV the rest of the patrol consisting of two Panzer 35Ts rolls into view. Orlik rapidly orders his driver to pull back as the Panzer 35(t)’s emerge with their guns aimed directly towards him.

Inside the 35T the gunners take aim. With their low profile they can hardly see the Polish tankettes hidden in the foliage. The gunner mutters under his breath “Verdammte Kakerlaken”. Damned Cockroaches. One Panzer fires then the other and 2 shells scream towards the tiny form. Their shells rip through the foliage around the TKS, but fortunately they miss.

Orlik tells the driver to stop as he opens fire on the first German, but with the enemy’s turret aimed at them there is no weak spot for them to exploit. The two men watch in horror as bullet after bullet pings off harmlessly from the Panzer’s turret and angled hull sides. But fortunately the German keeps driving forward and the hull loses its valuable angle.

Orlik slams another magazine into the gun and fires mercilessly upon the hull side … until one finally goes in. The 20mm pierces the Panzer and strikes square in the ammunition stowage, lighting the powder and setting off a catastrophic chain reaction. The 35(t)’s hatch blows open, spewing a column of fire and smoke into the air.

The last 35(t) carries on forward, driving ahead of the burning machine while firing shell after shell in the Poles’ general direction, their shots rip tree branches apart and lift dirt into the air, but fortunately miss the small profile tankette. Inside the 35(t) they hurl insults at the tiny tanks ‘Kakerlaken !’.

So difficult to kill and so hard to spot… just like cockroaches. Seeing his 2 allies already destroyed, the commander decides to make a run for it. “Let’s get support! Run for the village!” If the crew can make it to Pociecha they can alert the other German forces that Polish forces of yet unknown strength are in the area.

But the determined Pole won’t let the invader go. He orders his driver to chase after him and the TKS rapidly stumbles through the forest in pursuit.They burst through a bush and spot the Panzer fleeing away. Orlik opens fire, he strikes the 35(t) across its rear with a volley of 20mm, and taking it out of commission.

Orlik’s tank rolls up to the wreck 35(t) just as two crewmembers stumble out. Rapidly exiting his TKS Orlik aims his handgun at the two men. ‘Hande Hoch !’ he shouts. They lift their hands in surrender. “Who are you? Where’s your Commander?” The two Germans look at one another and then point towards the smoldering Panzer IV in the distance.

Together they head for the Panzer and check within as smoke pours from its open hatches. Battling the fumes they manage to find the badly injured commander and nobleman Victor IV Albrecht von Ratibor still alive. They bravely drag him out of the rapidly growing flames. But is to no avail as he would succumb to his injuries just a few minutes later.

The 2 surviving Germans are crestfallen. Through watery eyes one of them hurls the insult once again. ‘‘We would have hit you with our guns if you weren’t in those damned cockroaches.” The Poles took the name with pride and going forward referred to themselves proudly as Cockroaches. Orlik was awarded the Cross of Valour (after the war) for his incredible actions and is credited as Poland’s first ever tank ace.

It’s the 24th of April 1943 under the scorching Tunisian sun. Explosions rock the earth as the men of the 2nd Battalion of Sherwood Foresters take cover in their meager trenches. Among the allies is Sergeant John Oscroft. He has the dubious honor of holding a PIAT anti tank weapon. Leaving his job in a hosiery factory and signing up at the beginning of the war, Oscroft has seen many battles.

He steals himself now as he knows his time will come in this one… The Germans have them under fire and just 300 yards away a Panzer squadron in a hull down position fires upon the allied positions. At the head of the Panzer squadron is a fearsome beast. Even its name is whispered by the Allies. It’s a Tiger.

Armed with a powerful 88mm gun and incredible armor these are the flagships of the German War Machine. They inflict dread in even the best of tankers, let alone a battalion of infantry with just PIATs at their disposal. In a rush a few men run for an abandoned Pak 97/38 searching the position the one’s that belong to the enemy for ammunition and turning the weapon around.

Tiger crews are under strict instructions not to let their tank fall into enemy hands. Even going so far as to equip the crews with charges to destroy the tank before capture. At the bottom of the hill a charge of German soldiers appears from behind the Panzers,  attacking the allied positions with the cover from the war machines.

But despite the incredible danger the men of the Foresters crawl out of their trenches and unleash hell upon the advancing enemy, cutting through the German ranks with their rifles and LMGs. The Panzers fire back with their cannons and machine guns, inflicting terrible casualties on the defenders. But the German attackers are suffering far worse and their charge falters, being forced to retreat.

“Zurück!” But it’s not over yet, the Panzers keep up suppressive fire, pinning the Foresters in place. The Foresters have the PAK, but firing down the hill doesn’t even cross their minds; they would get blown up the second they expose it. Meanwhile, the Germans launch a second infantry charge. But no amount of explosions weakens the resolve of the British soldiers.

They open fire on the advancing forces, relocating swiftly to evade the fury of the Panzers. They expertly negotiate the storm of lead and for a second time the German attack comes to a grinding halt. Aboard the lead Tiger the commander is growing impatient. He’s in disbelief as the second wave withers before his eyes.

Full of resolve he orders his Panzers to cover him, he’ll show these allies what German steel is capable of. “I am moving forward.” The beast roars as it pounces from its cover and charges up the slope, the side of its turret is marked “131”. Atop the hills the Sherwood Foresters are shocked at the sight of the attacking Tiger.

“Tiger!” The men right in the path of the beast retreat for cover while the machine gun nests unleash all they have. Their bullets ping off the German armor doing little more than annoying the crew inside. In the distance a group of Churchill tanks spots the advancing wonder weapon emerging from cover. “Tiger!” Inside the Churchill a gunner quickly takes aim and fires.

A shell flies across the battlefield. The shell falls short. It hits an allied universal carrier and the explosion rises into the air. The Tiger commander scans the terrain. “Oh my God, there’s so many of them! Panzer! 500 meters!” The German commander goes white. He knows that the only real threat to them is the British tanks.

He decides instantly to abandon the attack on the infantry and jump back into cover.He pulls back and rotates the turret towards the threat. He realigns the tank to get the heaviest frontal armor facing the British tanks. The Churchills take careful aim. It’s incredibly difficult to get a hit at this range.

But the gunner steadies himself, and fires… It looks to be on target.. Almost. A smoke mortar pings off 131. Back on the hill, Sergeant Oscroft clutches his PIAT anti-tank weapon while taking cover with the soldiers. They see the Tiger retreating behind the hill and the men spot the opportunity. “Go for it, John!” 1 man against a colossal metal beast.

Gritting his teeth Oscroft bravely charges into action PIAT in hand. He crawls over the hilltop and finds the Tiger maneuvering for another attack. Oscroft is unmoved by the sight of the massive tank before him, his mind is laser focused on his task. His heartbeat races as he crawls closer to the steel monster, but he doesn’t get there in time.

The Tiger peeks back over the ridge, aiming straight at the Churchills. It fires with an earth shaking boom, propelling an 88mm shell across the sky. Their aim is lethal, it slams into one of the Churchills, punching straight through the armor and taking it out in a ball of flame. The Churchills fire back in response, hitting the German tank multiple times with their 57 mm guns, but round after round bounces uselessly off its thick armor as it retreats behind cover.

Oscroft is shaken to his core by the muzzle blast, his ears are ringing. It’s just one man against the giant. But he pushes on. He takes aim and pulls the trigger. The shoulder-fired mortar goes off with a bang. The warhead arches towards the enemy. It’s a hit! Oscroft looks on in hope that turns to horror as he sees a warhead bounces off the Tiger’s turret , leaving it intact.

The Tiger stops. Slowly the turret rotates around until Oscroft is staring into the mouth of the beast. Shaking himself he rushes to hide amidst the hill’s rocks and tall grass and to his massive relief, the German crew never sees him. The Tiger repositions and peeks back up the hill intent on cutting down the Churchills one by one.

But this time the Sherwood Foresters are ready. The Pak 97/38 opens fire alongside the Churchills, throwing a rain of shells at the big cat. One shell impacts the Tiger left of the mantlet, failing to pierce the highly-angled side armor, but shredding the mantlet trunnion along the way. The shock rips through the gun’s elevation mechanism, losing valuable fractions of a second and letting the Churchills enact their revenge.

A 57mm shell zips right under the barrel and glances against its thicker base, deflecting the shell’s path towards the lower mantlet. The impact jams the turret rotation and fires spall into the cabin, striking the gunner, driver, and the radio. The shocked commander orders: “Bail out!” The loader and commander swing open their hatches and rush to escape, dragging the wounded alongside them.

They barely make it out before another Churchill shell punches straight through the loader’s open hatch. The Germans make it, but in their haste they forget to set the charges to destroy the Tiger. The Sherwood Foresters successfully return to their positions and hold the hill with the abandoned Tiger just 5 feet away.

Out of options the remaining German Panzers retreat, leaving the precious Tiger in the hands of the allies, largely intact. Tiger 131 would be recovered days later as the front line moved away from the area. The state of the Tiger was incredible; running gear was intact, the gun was virtually intact and capable of firing, and interior damage was minimal.

“ Well, looks like she is still got it,boys! ” The Tiger was shown off in the recently liberated city of Tunis where Winston Churchill and King George VI, flew in for a chance to see the German monster in person. Oscroft after the war went back to working in the Hosiery factory. Today Tiger 131 resides in the The Tank Museum in Bovington, UK.

They’ve done an incredible job of restoring the vehicle and keeping it in perfect working order, while still keeping some of the scars of her dramatic final battle. It’s the 17th of January, 1945 in the outskirts of the French town of Herrlisheim. A German motorcycle races across open ground. Obersturmführer Erwin Bachmann holds on to the sidecar, Panzerfaust in hand.

The fighting in the area has been brutal and the Panzer Kompanie fighting for the town has lost contact with high command. Scanning the scenery Bachmann spots something. Two Panther tanks right on the edge of the town. “There they are!” The motorcycle approaches the parked tanks. The driver stops by the soldiers as Bachmann hurriedly asks.

“What are you doing? Where’s your commander?” The Commander is right there, sitting against a wall, wounded and covered in bandages. Bachmann asks him, “What is the situation?”. To which the commander explains they were pushed back by a force of Shermans,which remain somewhere nearby inside the town. Bachman is steadfast in his response.

“We’ll hunt them down! Men! Follow me.” Back in France Bachmann leads the two Panther tanks into the war-torn town of Herrlisheim riding shotgun in the sidecar, Bachman is holding the Panzerfaust at the ready. The town is completely desolate, only the engines and tracks daring to pierce the chilling silence.

They approach a junction and Bachmann orders the convoy to a stop. He walks the last few feet, hugging the wall of the buildings before peeking down the road. Nothing. He signals his Panthers forward and orders them to take position on the town square. With the tanks in position, he turns to their commanders and informs them he’s going to explore on foot.

The two men look at each other, but say nothing as their superior walks away, alone and with nothing but a pistol. Bachmann walks for a couple of blocks. It’s deeply unsettling, the homes all around him spot heavy damage, with windows blown out and even collapsed walls. He comes to a 90-degree turn on the road and rounds the corner.

Bachmann freezes as just before him are two parked Sherman tanks with their crews. The Americans spot him, and he hears them shout, they scatter and pull out their Thompson machine guns. Bachmann runs for his life. Shots ricochet on the cobblestones but he escapes back around the corner as shots ring out behind him.

Back at the Panthers both commanders are keeping a careful eye on their field of fire when they suddenly spot Bachmann running back in haste shouting, “Shermans!” Bachmann goes straight for the Panzerfaust as the Panther commanders prepare to move. “What are your orders?” But the Obersturmführer fears the Americans will encircle them.

“Hold your position, I’ll make them come to us.” He runs back up to the bend on the road and spots a hole in the wall in the corner. Thinking quickly, he sneaks inside searching for a firing spot. Luck smiles on Bachmann, and he finds a window with a clear view of the Sherman tanks. They’re still parked exactly where they were, but the American soldiers are gone, probably having taken position inside their machines.

Carefully, he shoulders the weapon and takes aim at the lead tank. He slows his breathing; he’s only got one shot at this. With the enemy square in his sights, he gently squeezes the trigger. The weapon fires with a deafening boom, launching the shaped charge rocket straight at the enemy. It smashes into its side armor, and the warhead detonates, the power of the explosion punches straight through.

Chaos breaks amongst the Shermans but Bachmann doesn’t wait around and makes his way out as quick as he can. He runs for his tanks, barking orders to push and attack. Under Bachmann’s orders a Panther sets off up the right hand street to engage the Americans head on. Meanwhile, Bachmann on foot and the second Panther move up the left-hand street.

The tank creeps up Rue de l’Eglise with Bachman trotting at the left. A church bell strikes 3pm. Across the street with perfect timing Berger’s cannon approaches the front of the American column. It inches forward and sees the column of a smoking Sherman at the front. But behind the Americans are bunched up.

He attempts to target a Sherman and on the strike of the third bell the gunner lets loose. The shell erupts from the Panther. The shot misses but runs down the line of Shermans. There is panic… The Shermans under attack in the narrow streets try to maneuver for position. Scraping each other and the buildings they try and get into a position to return fire…

Behind the Americans across the street Bachmann and the tank commander Mulradt hear the battle. The Panther driver hits the gas leaving Bachmann in the dust. But It’s a perfect pincer movement. Now behind the Shermans the other Panther approaches the corner. The gunner quickly targets the rear of a Sherman.

The Gunner fires. Panther’s shell impacts and catches a Sherman from behind, blasting it’s engine housing. Bachmann sprints to the corner to see the American crew evacuating the burning Sherman. The Panther’s turret swings around, the commander is eager to bag another. The Shermans that were backing up hit the brakes as they realize they’re now under attack from front and rear! But then just as the Panther is about to fire, Backmann orders : “Stop!”.

In the dust of battle an American officer waves something white. It looks like his undershirt. Bachmann said, ‘I quickly told Mülradt to radio Berger and tell him to hold fire.’ He said: “I walked out into the center of the street and looked up and down the column of American tanks. There were six of them, not including the burning tank.

The Americans were penned in and their guns were useless in their tight column disposition. Mülradt got down from his tank to assist me in the roundup. He brandished his Schmeiser submachine gun even though he was outnumbered sixty to one.Suddenly Bachmann sees Mulradt running towards him white as a ghost.

There’s more! Pointing to the side street they were shocked to see another 6 Shermans! The crews are thankfully all surrendering. Thinking that they too were boxed in by a superior German force instead of just 2 Panthers. One of the American tankers spoke some German and stepped forward. Bachmann asked, “Are there any more surprises?” The interpreter pointed to a side yard in which a group of 20 German prisoners from the 553rd Volksgrenadier Division.

12 Shermans and 20 prisoners! Bachmann said, “I took charge of the group and ordered them to pick up the American weapons and to keep them as their own. “I considered what to do with the windfall of American tanks at a time when Germany had so few of its own. The drivers stepped to the front of the American prisoners.

I told them that they were going to drive their tanks to a German base. As motivation I would place a German soldier armed with a pistol behind each driver. When the dust settled Bachmann’s actions with just 2 Panthers resulted in the capture of 60 American tank crew members, the release of 20 German POW’s, and the capture of 12 completely intact Sherman tanks.

Obersturmführer Erwin Bachmann would be awarded the Knight’s Cross for his valiant leadership, and the tank crews would be awarded the Iron Cross for their excellent performance. The captured Shermans would go on to serve for the German army, being used in anger against the allies in the dying months of the war.

Erwin Bachmann would survive the war and passed away on the 18th of February, 2010. It’s March the 5th 1945 near Lintfort in Germany. Under blood red clouds a column of American tanks snakes it’s way forward. At the front of the column commanding the head of “A” company is Captain Cowboy Tucker. Tucker is surveying the town from the turret as his Shermans push forward.

There’s a crack. Tucker sees the flash coming from a building. His heart sinks as he hears shouting from the Americans behind him. “Sniper!” And a man has been hit. The shout goes up. “Medic! Medic!” There’s no time to waste. “Sniper ahead! Open fire!” The column zeroes in the building and lets loose with everything they’ve got.

Chunks are blown out of the brickwork as the tanks join in. There’s not much left of the building as eventually the sound dies down. “Ha ha ha! I think we got him.” Tucker reports it in. “Able company reporting contact with the enemy. Advise how to proceed. Over.” He’s told to push forward and to secure the side of the town and then go on to secure a bridge crossing a canal on the route to Rheinberg.

It seems to Tucker like a rash decision. There’s no artillery support and the tanks would be going forward with only a few infantry and reconnaissance. Tucker checks the command: “Shall I by-pass and double the “recon” column and keep on going?” “Enemy appears to be infantry only. Keep moving.” He’s already questioned headquarters orders. Now he has to go.

He encourages the men. “We’re taking the west side of the ville. Hi-Yo, Silver!!” And the tanks trundle forward. The column pushes through Lintfort and heads on towards Rheinberg, splitting into two when they encounter a fork in the road. There’s a clatter against the armor as bullets rake the tanks, but it’s nothing the trusty Shermans can’t take.

It’s almost too easy. Tucker though is on alert. It seems odd. Americans are pushing towards the Rhine. There should be serious resistance, not just an occasional sniper or small arms fire. It’s then Tucker spots something. In the distance, there’s a movement somewhere in the trees. As he takes in the scene, Tucker instantly understands everything.

Horror fills him as he looks back at the column. They’re not in formation to deal with this. This is an ambush. He shouts down at his driver. “Get off the road! Find cover!” The driver guns the engine and the tank starts to accelerate, but it’s too late and all hell breaks loose. The thunder of German tank guns coincides with a huge explosion on a medium tank, followed immediately by another and another.

The escorting infantry pile out of their trucks, but under heavy fire, they don’t get far. Already there are five American medium tanks burning, each exploding in turn. The escorting infantry are at once pinned down by 20mm cannons and machine guns. The column tries to move. There’s a huge explosion and smoke.

Tucker looks to his left. “Mines!” One of the American tanks is pouring smoke and fire taken out by an anti-tank mine. The men are trapped in a perfectly laid killing zone. He’s a fighter and his first instinct is to fight back. He shouts into the radio: “Company ‘A’ under heavy fire! Request immediate reinforcements!” But the scale of the trap dawns on Tucker.

He can see Rheinberg in the distance and it seems to him that every crevice, dip and embankment on the way to Rheinberg is punctuated by a muzzle flash.A long wall of German defence. There’s no way through. Tanks and men fall under the withering fire. There’s no artillery support and the infantry hug the ground, unable to advance.

Next to Tucker, a truck catches fire and begins burning. If they don’t withdraw, the company will be slaughtered. It’s hopeless. Tucker admits defeat and gets on the radio to order a retreat. “Pull back!” As they pull back, the Germans intensify their fire and the Americans suffer under the assault, reversing back all the while under heavy fire.

The US tanks try to shoot, but they’re still largely in a column and with the anti-tank mines, they can’t manoeuvre to get a clear shot. Under extremely intense fire, they manage to retreat to the point that the Germans can’t get a clear target. The company has been battered, but what to do? They can’t go back.

Tucker gets on the radio again and establishes a plan. It’s agreed. They’ll try and bypass the trap by heading along a dirt road to the northeast and get to secure the bridge at Rheinberg that way. As the tanks push forward along the dirt road, the American crew look out the observation periscopes. Their nerves are taught as they realise the Germans are now using every strategy they can to keep the Americans from reaching the Rhine.

Then, Tucker notices that it seems like there’s something up in the road ahead. In the road. There’s a momentary glimpse of a German helmet, then smoke, then a clang as a Panzerfaust zips towards the lead tank. Inside, there’s a deafening clang, but it glances off the turret. Then the rifle and machine gun fire add to the orchestra of sound.

The men now realise that the road is riddled with enemy foxholes. Another man with a rifle or Panzerfaust appearing every 10 metres or so. It’s not looking good. Tank tracks, fuel tanks, turrets all begin exploding and fragmenting, showering the men nearby with shrapnel and burning gasoline. One tank veers off the road, intending to take the fight to the enemy.

But anger and concern grip Tucker as he sees this. He frantically tries to raise the crew on the radio. “It’s a trap!” Only to see the tank hit a mine, which shreds the underside. Further ahead of the wreck, German forces race through a network of zigzag trenches and operate anti-tank guns of all sizes. Including the ruthlessly effective 88mm pack, booming German revenge upon the advancing Americans.

They can’t sit there and so Tucker’s tanks dash for cover into a patch of wood, hoping to find relief. As soil kicks up and branches fall, they meet the German defence head on. They’re finding themselves in the hornet’s nest. Tucker’s troops can only press forward, firing wildly as they do. Enemy infantry appear. Tucker’s tanks mow them down.

A truck is spotted through the trees and erupts as a tank shell causes it to burst into flames. Anti-tank guns fire and hit the column, but the Americans zero in on them and fire shell after shell until they are silenced. But they’re not out of the woods yet. Tucker’s tank crew are robbed from another side.

The shout goes up: “Mark IV! Mark IV!” As a German Panzer IV appears to the left. Before the Panzer gets a chance to reload, the Sherman turret swings, takes aim and fires, penetrating the hull of the German tank. The Panzer IV billows smoke as the crew scramble from the burning wreck. As the battle progresses in the jaws of the German trap, something incredible is happening.

The American tanks seem to be making headway. They pick up speed and settle into a rhythm, charging through the trap and destroying everything in their path. Tucker even starts to enjoy himself. He picks up the radio and reports in: “I’m killing Germans left and right. Just got a Mark IV tank. Having a good time.

I also got a truck and a half-track.” At that moment there’s a thump and Tucker’s tank comes to a halt. “What the hell? We’re hit!” Tucker realizes they’ve taken a hit. The crew are safe, but the tank is going nowhere. Checking his men are okay he jumps out of the tank. There’s battle going on all around, but he runs to the next Sherman in line, all the while dodging enemy fire.

Tucker bangs on the hull and assumes command of the tank, and then carries on with the push forward. Please support the channel, comment, like and subscribe on this video. Incredibly, “A” company forces their way through the trees, and emerges to a point along the Fossa Canal Road.  Tucker sees their destination in the distance.

Going north, they can reach the canal bridge and can capture a potential route into Germany beyond. Tucker rallies his men: “Come on boys! Yeehaa!” Giving them yell as he does so, and the force pushes on, hoping beyond hope they can get across the bridge. The company gets closer and closer, scarcely able to believe their luck.

They withstand the German fire and are within sight of the bridge. On the opposite bank, a German soldier wrestles with the detonation cord,twisting it around a shot exploder as .30 rounds crack and smack overhead.  He spots an American infantryman who levels his rifle at him. The German twists the handle, the American fires.

The German is hit in the shoulder, but activates the charge. A plume of bricks and dirt shoots skywards as the bridge detonates. Masonry and dust fall down upon the tanks and rains on the men. Tucker looks on in fury. The bridge is down. With nowhere to advance the tanks slow and “A” company stalls. They’re sitting ducks.

Heavy fire from all sides tears through the tanks and infantry. Across the other side of the blown bridge, more German anti-tank guns join in the fight. The tanks fight back as best they can, taking out the crew of one of the PAKs. But the Germans quickly get the gun operational, as another group of soldiers man the gun.

They wear down company “A”. A Sherman takes around to the engine and burns up to Tucker’s right. Tucker carries on, choosing targets for his main gunner, while manning his .50 cal Browning, while his co-axial gunner cannot but hit the enemy with every burst.  It is a frantic firefight. There are just five tanks left now.

The cowboy sees a track running parallel to the canal. He orders the tanks to make a run for it. The five tanks speed as fast as they can up the road, all the while under heavy fire. There’s a boom and a Sherman gets taken out. And then another. There’s only three tanks left now. Tucker’s Sherman rocks under the impact of an anti-tank round.

It throws the crew with a sudden jolt and the tank grinds to a standstill. With ears ringing, Tucker shakes his head and checks himself over. He reaches over with his right hand. Something’s wrong. Looking down, he can see that, strangely, his left arm isn’t there. It takes a moment for it to sink in. He stares at the space where his arm should be while sounds of the battle rage around him.

Incredulity turns to anger and anger turns to action. With fury, pain and bravery burning in his veins, he reaches down with his one good hand and slings his gun over his shoulder. Picking up the radio, he snarls into it: “I’m a one-armed cowboy now. Let’s go, cowboys.” With that, he leaps out of his stricken tank and lands on the ground.

He unslings his gun with his one hand. The Germans are met with a demon from a western. The fury of the one-armed cowboy, eyes burning like fire, shooting all the while. It’s a sight to chill the soul. It seems like a dead cowboy has returned back to the living for vengeance and many enemy fall to his rounds as he continues his one-man charge.

It was to be the cowboy’s last stand. Saved by Tuckers’ quick thinking, the two remaining tanks took cover in farm buildings and the crews fought throughout the night and survived the battle. The very next day, the cowboy’s remains were found alongside many Germans that met their end from the one-armed cowboy.

He was posthumously awarded the Distinguished Service Cross for his actions. By the morning through heavy fighting the town of Rheinberg was taken. The west bank of the Rhine was now under Allied control and the war was in its final weeks, but it came at a high price. The Americans had lost 41 tanks and 131 men.

Today, Rheinberg is a small town with a population of around 30,000. It doesn’t look like much of a place on a map, one rural town among many in Germany, Rheinberg, to tankers of the Thirty-Sixth, recalls narrow escapes from death,  and the day when the battalion was tested in the flame of battle and emerged seared but victorious.

The Battle of Kursk, the largest tank battle in World War II, witnessed a fierce German offensive, clashing with determined Soviet defence. On the third day of the battle, near Teterevino village, a famous German tank ace confronted over 50 Soviet tanks, a legendary encounter with disputed details. For this controversial topic, we included both the Soviet and German perspectives, so you can decide.

It’s the 8th of July 1943. A platoon of German soldiers takes cover under heavy fire with shells pummelling the ground and machine gun fire zipping over their heads in a brutal and disorienting frenzy. They peek over their embankment to the battlefield beyond, opening fire with their rifles. But they do little, because they aren’t facing off against men, but a wall of heavy war machines.

Up and down the front line, massive numbers of T-34 tanks roll through the rain of lead. It’s a giant counter-attack with 9 tank brigades and infantry. The entire line is alight with a thunder of war. “Retreat!” The Germans retreat to their shallow trenches just as the Soviet tanks take full advantage, powering forward towards their lines.

As the tanks approach, the German infantry have a plan. They have a new weapon, a shaped charge grenade. The tanks rumble over the German trench. The infantry hold their breath as machine gun fire takes out a few unfortunate souls. The tanks pass and the infantry throw thePanzer-Wurf mines at the backs of the T-34s.

Not all are successful, but two T-34s are taken out by this brave attack. The Soviets press on. But unbeknownst to them, a Predator stalks in the distance. It is the mighty Tiger I heavy tank, under command of Unterscharführer Franz Staudegger of the 1st SS Panzer Division. Through his cupola he sees the advance.

He isn’t supposed to be fighting, he’d fallen behind his unit to repair a broken suspension But now three T-34 tanks roll across the field in front of him with no appreciable formation. They halt on occasion and fire at the rudimentary German trenches while surrounded by the smoke and haze of battle. It’s too perfect.

He points out a target to the gunner and orders “Fire!” In a flash, the Tiger unleashes its mighty weaponry, propelling the 88mm shell across the air. It streams green tracer behind it and then punches square through the enemy’s front plate, stopping it where it stands. The rest of the enemy tanks don’t seem to notice, but that doesn’t come as a surprise to Staudegger.

He’ll enjoy turning all the distracted enemy tanks to scrap. “Fire!” Another bang washes across the fields and with it another T-34 goes up in flames. “Good shot. Keep them coming!” The loader picks up another armour-piercing round and slams it into the breech, just as the gunner sets his sight on their third victim.

“Fire!” The shell strikes the enemy machine, bringing it to a dead stop. But then its turret starts to turn. Another one. The T-34 is slammed by a follow-up shot and smoke pours out of the hatches. In little more than a minute all three enemy tanks in his view are eliminated without a single return shot. Then more movement catches his eye.

It’s another T-34 and it’s rolling over the railway embankment. And then another. And another. The bulk of the charge has arrived but Staudegger is undeterred Fire! Shells rain on the enemy vehicle and it suffers the same fate as his comrades before. The rest of the tanks take notice as even more T-34s roll over the embankment. There are more than a dozen and they are still coming.

But Staudegger’s Tiger strikes down another enemy and the Soviets finally spot the German machine. One of the T-34s rotates its turret and returns fire. It’s shell striking the earth. And it only took them 5 dead tanks. Keep firing! Staudegger now keeps on the move, carefully moving from cover to cover. The German crew take expert aim.

Another T-34 bursts into flames as the wall of armour wisens up to their situation. The volume of fire, headed the Tiger’s way, is increasing now by the second. Staudegger keeps changing his position constantly to avoid becoming an easy target. But the Soviet guns find him as an enemy shell slams into the armour with a deafening clang, but it fails to penetrate.

Staudegger is completely unfazed, he knows his machine. He knows this technology is superior. The Soviet 76mm is no match for the Tiger. “Target. 37 degrees.” Fire! The gunner obeys without hesitation and yet another T-34 explodes into a million pieces. More shells hit the tiger, reverberating through the hull as the loader hurries to slam another armour-piercing shell into the breach.

Another shot rings, and then another, and then another! The tiger is doing its best to seek cover. But with the deluge of enemy fire, the shells are getting stuck into the armour and ricocheting every which way, but completely failing to injure the seemingly invincible heavy German tank. Staudegger is still very calm, directing fire with cold and calculated precision.

The Soviet losses mount, but they still don’t turn back. In fact, they push harder. The T-34s rush across the open field, away from the cover of the embankment they just drove over. “Come to me, my pretties.” The Tiger continues to take victims left and right, firing as fast as he can reload, while shells continue pinging off its armour.

Its exterior is dotted with dozens, maybe hundreds of impacts, but the beast is still completely operational. “We’re out of armour-piercing shells, sir.” They run out of armour-piercing ammunition, but the Germans are so confident that they switch to high explosive ammunition, and their grim work continues.

Please support the channel, comment, like and subscribe on this video. Without any assistance, Staudegger and his Tiger bring the Soviet advance to a grinding halt. Defeated, the T-34s finally see reason and reverse back to roll over the embankment into safety. Staudegger keeps barking orders to fire throughout, hellbent on getting as many as he possibly can.

But eventually they get away and the battlefield falls into silence. Before him are 17 burning wrecks. But it’s not enough. “Driver, get ready to move! We’re hunting them down” It’s an incredibly risky maneuver. They would be leaving the safety of their ambush position while out of armour piercing ammunition and with a suspension that they’ve just repaired which may not be perfect.There’s nothing to be worried about.

Go! But Staudegger doesn’t care. Remarkably, despite the many hits, his tank tracks are undamaged. The Tiger’s engine roars as it gets going. The driver being mindful of their adhoc suspension repairs as they drive all the way across the kilometer-long battlefield. Untill they reach the embankment. Then they drive over the railway lines and on the other side they spot the surviving T-34 tanks and their crews , regrouping in the distance.

An 88mm shell  washes over the battlefield one more time, propelling the shell at their targets who were totally unaware. The shell detonates into the gathered tanks, destroying one of them and taking out some of the men. The crews rush back to their vehicles and open fire, but their shots easily bounce off, just like every single one before them.

The Tiger turns its turret and crushes the closest T-34 with a single brutal blow. Many retreat in a panic, some try to fight back. Other tanks remain parked, their crews having fled on foot with the arrival of the fearsome Tiger. When the dust settles, five more wrecks have been added to the pile for an incredible total of 22 destroyed tanks by a single lone Tiger I under Staudegger’s command.

But his Tiger I was not unscathed, with 67 scars, left by the Soviet tank commanders. For his part in this battle Staudegger was awarded the Knight’s Cross of Iron Cross. It’s 8th July 1943 and the 26th Tank Brigade of the 2nd Tank Corps are south-east of Prokhorovka village. The 282nd Battalion Commander, Captain Leonid Raigerodskii, waits nervously aboard his T-34.

He’s been given an extremely vague set of orders to attack the Germans and take over two villages. Teterovino near the expected line of engagement and Luchki a bit further on. 16:30 comes around and 32 T-34 medium tanks and 21 T-70 light tanks begin to roll. The villages were lost just the day before, battle plans are pretty much non-existent, and all five company commanders and both battalion commanders have no maps of the area.

No artillery support and mechanised infantry has been left in the rear. But orders are orders. Soon, they hear the crackle of gunfire against the hull and screams to open fire sound over the radio. The massive tanks come alive, firing volleys of high explosive shells into the German positions ahead. The 76mm guns slam backwards with recoil, filling the turrets with foul smoke.

Raigerotskii tries to keep focus. His view of the world is limited to his sight and a handful of vision slits. In the T-34-76 the commander is also a gunner, so he has a hard time looking around and finding targets. Then, through the explosions, ricocheting bullets and desperate combat chatter, he hears something.

Something in the distance, growing louder. It’s a howl, a howl of a Stuka. “Manuever!” He can only keep moving and hope as the scream grows louder and louder, a harbinger of doom, punching through every other sound to terrorise the souls of the Soviets. A giant explosion sounds outside. The crew doesn’t know if it got anyone nor can they check as “FORWARD” sounds in the radio.

Five tanks on the right of Raigorodskii roll forward over the raised railway lines and disappear out of view. The sounds of battle grow louder and there are several huge explosions. Now it’s Raigorodskii’s turn. He and a group of more Soviet tanks head up towards the railway lines. As they crest the railway lines and the tanks go nose down, what’s revealed is a terrifying sight.

From the five tanks that went over, three are already burning and the battle is ongoing and fierce. Raigorodskii’s tank fires, pummeling the enemy lines. Plumes of dirt rise into the air and flashes of orange pierce through the haze, exploding masses of metal that used to be Soviet tanks. The Soviets are under intense fire.

Mortars, anti-tank grenades, artillery and tank fire is raining down upon them. The Germans are firing with all they have. Captain Raigorodskii sees his comrades falling all around him, never to rise. “Into cover!” He orders his driver into cover behind a burning tank while he tries desperately to piece together the situation.

Radio chatter is saturated with comrades calling out targets, trying to organise in vain and talking over one another. Raigorodskii searches the terrain on his own with his small and basic optic. He sees nothing until suddenly a bright muzzle flash betrays the enemy’s position. It’s so far away, even knowing where he is he can barely see more than a dot.

But he tries to aim anyway, their lives depend upon it. The crosshairs land on the source of the flash and he fires. The shell flies off. But he has no clue where it landed. He fires again and again. All around him tanks open fire at the many enemies. But do little as one by one they’re struck down. The situation is completely untenable.

Raigorodskii is unable to take a kill shot. “Damn!” At last an order comes through the radio. The brigade commander orders the retreat.“Retreat!” One by one the T-34s start their retreat. Then Raigorodskii joins them, backing up while shells crash all around them. Low caliber bullets ping off the armour as they all run for the safety of the embankment.

But the Germans aren’t letting off and another tank nearby explodes into flames. Safety’s close, tantalisingly close. Another shell slams into the ground next to them. “Go!” “Faster!” Raigorodkii’s heart is racing as they retreat in an attempt to save themselves. “Maximum speed!” An 88mm shell zips across the battlefield.

Its green tracer trails out behind it. It’s heading straight for a T-34, Raigorodskii’s tank. The shell punches straight through. The crew become yet another group of men on the list of the Soviet Union’s massive tally of fallen. The remaining T-34s and T-70s roll over the railway lines, under fire all the way.

The German panzers stopped firing. They’re safe for now. At the end of the day 21 T-34s and one T-70 would be destroyed in total. Five of the wrecks were located before the railway lines, out of sight of Staudegger, most likely victims of artillery or Stukas. In the main battle area the high volume of fire made it impossible to discern which kills were made by whom.

But that didn’t stop German high command who disregarded the actions of the other participants in the battle. Instead they credited all the kills of the day to Staudegger, parading him as a war hero and using it as an example of and the might of the invincible Tiger. “Eagle 15, put on Psywar up and make it loud.

” It’s the 23rd of February 1991. “Shall we dance?” The 2nd Armored Cavalry Regiment charges through the Iraqi border in Operation Desert Storm. Amidst the stampede of armor, Captain Herbert Raymond McMaster stands proudly atop his M1A1 Abrams, leading Eagle Troop into battle. After so much waiting, it’s finally showtime.

The column of American tanks drives into enemy territory with no resistance whatsoever, defensive positions are being dealt with by other units and the poor Iraqi conscripts surrender en masse. “Stop showing off” The 2nd ACR even comes across a group of lone and unarmed Iraqis walking aimlessly across the desert.

“Did they just wave at us?” The men are surprised as the enemy cheers them on. They advance and maneuver nearly unimpeded for 2 full days. But that won’t last forever. Somewhere out there to the east the Tawakalna Republican Guard lies in wait, a much more loyal unit that will not surrender so easily. The 2nd ACR are tasked with hunting them down.

The men awake the following day to miserable weather. A sandstorm has rolled in overnight greatly reducing visibility. “Holy shit, what beautiful weather! Skog, wanna go outside?” “I’m good, thanks” “All right, how are the Eagles doing? Anyone?” “Waiting for orders, sir” “What’s the plan?” “Ok, here it is, gentlemen. In a moment we will receive permission to carry the attack forward.

” We push to the 70 Easting.” “Only six miles?” “Yep, and don’t engage. We find the enemy, we step aside and allow the 1st Infantry Division and 3rd Armored Division behind us to take them on. Should be easy, but you know anything can happen. Stand by for orders. Out.” His men don’t have to be told twice; the entire troop is itching for action.

And sure enough, the go-ahead promptly arrives. “Battle Stations. Battle Stations. This is Black 6. The word has been given. Red 1, execute.” “Roger 6, executing now.” “I feel the need, the need for speed.” ‘Matt, you know that’s 5 dollars in the drink box for any film quotes.” “Oh c’mon, I love the smell of napalm in the morning.

” ‘That’s 10!’ The engines roar and whirl to life, and six M2 Bradleys from the 1st Platoon drive past the line of Abrams, taking their positions at the front as the entirety of the 2nd ACR moves through the sandstorm in a miles-long formation. Pushing into the unknown. McMaster hunkers down, observing the battlefield with his thermal sight, but nothing appears.

Suddenly there are loud explosions up ahead. McMaster and the rest of his men sweep the area with their binoculars and thermals. There are no contacts, but they quickly find the source. Its airburst artillery exploding in the air and raining shrapnel all across the ground. McMaster doesn’t need to say anything, all on their own, the Bradleys and Abrams break the line to drive around the area of impact.

A sense of pride fills McMaster, his boys are acting exactly as they’ve been trained. The artillery is evaded and the line reforms as they push on. It’s not long before something else catches his eye. Figures emerge through the haze. Buildings. McMaster narrows his eyes, thinking. This village looks off, there is no farm, pen, or any type of infrastructure to sustain a home.

This, he thinks, must be an Iraqi outpost. “Village, direct front! One round HEAT at my command. The loader slams a High Explosive Anti Tank shell into the breach.The “anti-tank” component won’t be of much use. “Up!” But the explosives are exactly what they need. “Ready? Report!” The tank’s massive 120mm gun aims square at the structures.

But McMaster doesn’t fire just yet. He waits as his line gets closer, looking for civilians. Up and down the line the rest of the tanks prepare to level the position, but still they wait, for they see no evidence that the buildings belong to anyone at all. Suddenly muzzle flashes shine from the windows and low caliber bullets start raining down on the armored vehicles.

“Fire! Fire!” McMaster’s Abrams opens fire with a thunderous explosion. The round flies through the air, its aim impeccable. It hits the wall and detonates, reducing the building to rubble. The impact marks the target for the 8 other battle tanks, and their guns aim at the same construction. “Ready! Fire!” The 9 Abrams fire almost in unison with a deafening blast.

In an instant the buildings explode into a cloud of rubble and dust, violently silencing the small arms fire. Meanwhile, on the very edge of their formation, Bradleys Eagle 13 and 16 spot two Iraqi T-72s sitting in ambush with their thermal viewfinders. “Do we engage?” Chills travel down the spine of the vehicle commanders.

“Why are they still?” “I don’t think they see us.” Had the sandstorm not been covering their advance, they are unlikely to have won this showdown. But as it is the enemy’s lack of thermals keeps them blind in the storm, while the Bradleys can see them crystal clear. The Bradley’s turret spins to face the enemy, a pair of TOW anti-tank missiles at the ready.

The missile fires off its launcher, pulling a spool of wire along with it. From inside the gunner keeps his crosshairs on the enemy tank, the computer guiding the missile through the wire and keeping it flying straight on the crosshair. From the sight it looks like licks of flame hanging in the air for a few fleeting moments.

The T-72 detonates with force as its turret flies sky-high. The second Bradley fires off a second missile aimed for the remaining enemy. The Iraqi crew barely reacted to the destruction of their companion when they meet the same fate. “The turret of this T-72 came off and was flipping like a bottle cap in the air, and when it landed, the whole thing burst into flames.

I remember thinking, holy, how can a piece of metal burn like that?” “Eagle 13, reporting contact” The troop resumes the advance, leaving behind T-72 wrecks and the obliterated buildings. “2 enemy tanks on the left flank. Targets eliminated.” McMaster knows these two tanks couldn’t be alone and senses that they’re about to find exactly who they are looking for.

“Red 1, this is Black 6. Swapping to tank-lead. I repeat. Changing to tank-lead” The Bradleys slow to a stop and allow the better armored Abrams tanks to go first. They form into an arrow formation, with McMaster proudly leading in the middle. They reach their target of the 70th Easting, but McMaster has a small crest up ahead blocking their view.

“Stay behind” In flat terrain like this even small crests are crucial for visibility, so without orders he pushes on just a little more. His Abrams climbs the hill and rolls over the top of the crest. Looking through his thermal sight, he watches as dozens of heat signatures come into view all at once. They instantly meet a wall of dug in armor, trenches, and anti-tank weapons all facing their advance.

“Tanks! Direct Front!” It is a horrifying sight. The plan of not engaging the enemy has gone straight out the window. “Fire! Fire SABOT!” “HEAT are already loaded” The crosshairs immediately land on a T-72 1.4 kilometers away, and the Abrams fires the first shot of Battle of 73 Easting. But to McMaster’s surprise, the giant line of Iraqi defense does not immediately retaliate.

In the storm the Iraqi tanks are completely blind and have no idea about the multiple Abrams actively rolling over their defensive embankment just a few hundred meters away. They scramble to respond, crews running for their tanks, diving into trenches, and fleeing to the rear. It’s chaos. “Load SABOT!” “Up!” “Fire!” The armour-piercing fin-stabilized discarding sabot round fires off the Abrams’ barrel, the surrounding sabot peeling off.

Please support the channel, comment, like, and subscribe on this video. releasing a massive depleted uranium dart traveling at 1,575 meters every second. It slams square on the enemy and it bursts into flames, cutting through the armor like butter and setting it aflame. McMaster continues to roll forward as the rest of his troop appears behind him.

Abrams tanks open fire indiscriminately as the T-72s start to fight back. Rounds crash into the earth and zip over the Americans’ heads. McMaster’s driver, Christopher “Skog” Hedenskog, watches nervously out the periscope as he drives towards the enemy. He sees a muzzle flash from the front rightand a split second later a round slams into the earth right next to their fender.

McMaster’s men see the strike and fear he’s been hit, “Black 6! Black 6! Are you hit?” “Black 6! Black 6!” But then Skog spots a second T-72 emerging into the sights of their Abrams. “Hold on!” He turns hard to the left, throwing off everyone in the turret. They gather themselves and resume their positions, “Sir, are you okay?” McMaster takes a second longer, he’s hit his head on the edge of the cupola, completely missing the radio transmission calling for him.

“Black 6, do you copy?” With their leader in silence and seemingly having taken a second enemy round, a desperate Red 1 takes the initiative. “This is Red 1; Black 6 is down; I’m taking over. Follow my lead.” Listening to this on the radio, Skog calls for his commander. “Sir! Get up on the net, Red 1 just took over.

” McMaster realizes what is happening and he’s quick to clear up the confusion. “This is Black 6, we’re alive! I’m retaking command.” Meanwhile, outside is a flurry of sand, smoke, and fire. Enemy rounds keep missing the Abrams as they charge through the desert. On the Iraqi side everything is in pure chaos.

The Abrams roll past the shell-shocked Iraqis, firing round after round into the enemy armor. The Bradleys behind fire their cannons at trenches and infantry, struggling to distinguish between legitimate threats and defeated enemies. Driver Matt Lee follows his unit under fire when a person appears in front of him.

Lee slams on the accelerator and steers towards him. The Bradley barrels towards the soldier at speed. The Iraqi is completely disoriented from the darkness of the storm and smoke of the battlefield, unaware as his body rapidly fills Lee’s thermal imager… The speeding Bradley roars by inches from the enemy.

Lee made a split-second decision and decided that this enemy was not a threat. Elsewhere in the battle the advancing line of Bradleys are suddenly met with a column of tracers. The bright bullets ricochet everywhere and two Bradleys focus on the source. A ZSU 23-4 “Shilka” anti-aircraft gun inside a bunker.

They slow to a halt and the first anti-tank missile rockets off its launcher, zipping across the battlefield. The anti-armor warhead detonates into the bunker, collapsing it. A second anti-tank missile flies in moments after, slamming into the ZSU and setting it alight. Across the line, the Bradley crews operate with incredible bravery.

The missiles cannot be fired on the move, so Bradleys have to stop under fire to engage enemy armor. Eagle 31 comes to a halt while staring down the barrel of a reloading T-72. The American gunner fires off his missile and strikes the Iraqi tank, exploding it into a ball of flame, fractions of a second before it can do the same to the Bradley’s crew.

Meanwhile, another Bradley, Eagle 36, have used up their pair of anti-tank missiles and are still stuck in the middle of heavy fighting. They need more if they’re to have a chance against the dozens of T-72s still somewhere out there in the dark. “Tribble, give me some TOWs” “On it!” Scout Michael Tribble takes the missile tubes stowed in the rear and opens up the roof hatch to reload them, but the launcher is out of reach.

“Can you give me the turret on 5950?” The turret needed to be rotated to 5950 mils to be able to reload from the hatch, but Tribble hears the response: “Negative! We’re stuck like this!” The commander can’t place the Bradley in a reloading position, they need the gun and armor facing the enemy. If Tribble is going to reload, he’s going to have to go outside and do it.

Tribble rushes out from safety. He can hear the hiss of rifle bullets zipping across the air, a few striking the Bradley’s armor with loud clangs. But Tribble ignores it all, He discards the old tubes and casings and begins mounting the new ones. He hears the crack of bullets narrowly missing him, but he keeps his nerve at a time where a slip up is the difference between life and death.

The missiles are reloaded and Tribble returns to the machine shouting “Done! Go! Go!” With that the roof hatch closes up, once more protecting Tribble from the chaos outside. The Bradley, again, lurches to life, charging for combat. Back at the front the battlefield gradually calms down. Bradleys still fire their cannons amidst a flurry of small arms fire, clearing out trenches and destroying equipment as the platoon drives through the wrecks of the enemy.

McMaster’s Executive Officer comes up on the radio reminding him that 70 Easting was the limit of advance and they are way past it. “I can’t stop, we’re still in contact. Tell headquarters I’m sorry.” He cuts the transmission and returns to the task at hand. They’ve broken through their lines, but there has to be reserves somewhere in this storm.

It doesn’t take long for them to find them. “I see them” He spots a group of enemy tanks with his thermal sights17 of them all in a circle. They’ve attacked so fast the reserves haven’t even had time to get out of their parking spots. McMaster orders all of the troop’s Abrams to bear. “Ready? Report!” They creep up on the enemy.

He can clearly see an Iraqi tank commander standing on his hatch. The commander hears the Abrams and looks over his shoulder, with an expression of utter horror on his face. “Fire!” In a flash the strength of Eagle Troop is unleashed at the stationary targets. In just a minute all 17 of the T-72 tanks are reduced to scrap.

“Target destroyed. The Bradleys in the rear continued to destroy enemy equipment and ammunition stashes, but the battle was effectively over. Anxiously, McMaster got on the radio to ask one question he feared the answer to. “How many casualties?” “No casualties to report.” They hadn’t just won; they had crushed them.

In just 23 minutes this scouting force that wasn’t even meant to engage the enemy had destroyed 50 T-72s, 25 armored personnel carriers, 40 trucks, and a multitude of other vehicles, of the Tawakalna Republican Guard without losing a single man or vehicle. It’s the 7th of September 1939, just outside of the town Wizna in Poland.

“Is the artillery ready?” “Yes, Captain!” “Ammunition?” “Reinforced and filled!” “To your positions!” “Get ready, men! It’s gonna be a tough fight!” Captain Wladyslaw Raginis patrols the defensive emplacements under his command, two collections of bunkers and trenches 6 kilometers apart lining the bank of the Narew river, from Gora Strekowa to Wizna.

“Cheer up, Krzysztof… You’ll come home and see her…” “Keep your eyes on Wizna! The Germans could appear from this side!” “Take cover!” Suddenly an explosion shakes the earth. Soldiers in the trenches are rushing for the bunkers, as the air fills with fire and shrapnel. Aircraft then roar overhead, dropping bombs.

One of the men rushes for the phone and gives the message they’ve all been dreading. “They are here!” The dry brush is set alight and fires spread across the trenches. In both positions the air becomes foul with smoke and dust. The bombardment keeps up for half an hour until, abruptly, it stops, the battlefield switching from deafening explosions to the most disturbing silence.

The men at Wizna lay low, not daring to expose an inch of their bodies. Outside something else breaks the quiet. “Orders?” “Blow the bridge.” “Yes, sir!” At the front the men brace for what is to come. “Wait… Wait…. Now!” In a blink of an eye the bridge is destroyed into a million pieces;  rubble and vehicles fall and slam into the earth and water.

On the opposite bank the Germans are thrown into disarray, many flee expecting the bunkers to come alive while some open fire into the fortifications at random. The Poles sit still as bullets and shells slam into their bunkers, trusting them with their lives. The fire soon stops, the Germans seemingly not knowing what to do.

Peeking back out the men see the German infantry is all gone, but the tanks still remain.  Then a small group of men on foot appear from the buildings. The Polish lookout frowns. “Jerzy, are those officers?” “Don’t know, but these men look important.” The idea of shooting is tantalizing. He reaches out to his bunker’s machine gun and swings it towards the enemy as he mulls the idea of opening fire.

But he doesn’t get to choose. “They are in the bunker on the other side of the river!” The Pole has no time to think it over and he pulls the trigger. The machine gun is unleashed, cutting through the men in a matter of seconds. “Retreat! Return to the village quickly!” “Kurwa, take that!” The gunshot of the massive rifles washes across the battlefield and the huge bullet slams into the enemy armor.

They fire again and again with some shots bouncing and some punching through. The tankers are thrown into disarray as the transmission of their injured brothers makes them keenly aware of the danger they’re in. They fire back with their cannons, aiming at bunkers at random as they retreat under fire, escaping the Polish ambush.

Back at Gora Strekowa, Raginis listens to the men’s updates. He is impressed at their early success, but with such an overwhelming force against them he knows it won’t last. Outside his bunker the sounds of bullets and bombs continue to rage.  It’s a sleepless night. The sun rises to a foggy morning. The visibility across the river is next to nothing, but the Poles can hear there’s something afoot.

“Sir! The tanks are on the move! They are crossing the river!” “Sir!” “Prepare anti-tank rifles!” They hear the splashes, the revving engines, the moving water. Tanks are wading through. Panzers appear like specters through the fog and the Polish line immediately opens fire. The Panzers push through, firing their cannons as behind them emerge multiple boats of infantry.

The machine gunners focus on them and scores of Germans fall to their fire.But the Panzers fight back, firing high-explosive shells at the Polish positions and claiming casualties. “We are under fire! I can’t detect the enemy firing position!” The anti-tank rifles try to bring them down, but there’s too many of them.

“One tank is hit! Continue the offensive!” Moments later shells begin raining down on the enemy line. Explosions rip through the formation, sending the German infantry scrambling for cover which doesn’t exist while the tanks are shaken and disoriented by the incessant detonations. A few are brutally taken out of action with a direct impact while the rest struggle to fight under the heavy bombardment.

The anti-tank riflemen continue firing through it all, damaging more enemy tanks.  The bunkers continue to fire at the exposed Germans as the entire battle becomes a duel of artillery. But only one side has bunkers. The German position is completely untenable, tanks and men are just trying to survive through the storm of shells.

Meanwhile, an officer gets on the phone to update Raginis. “We are holding the line! But we need more firecover! Second line! Second line! Do you copy? Dammit!” Unexpectedly, the next salvo of enemy shells punches into the ground without detonating and starts emitting plumes of white smoke, blinding the entire battlefield as high explosives continue to rain.

The Poles keep guard through it all, fearing the Germans are about to push under the smokescreen. But they don’t. Instead, the battered German attack force retreats across the river. But it’s hardly a victory. “Sir, we are almost out of ammo We are better off retreating to the main bunkers.” And so, with the cover of the night, the brave defenders prepare to escape.

With all their losses, only 11 beaten survivors remain. They make their way out under the cover of darkness. “Don’t shoot!” “What’s the password?” “Like and subscribe.” “It’s ours from the front line!” Meanwhile, Captain Raginis takes a deep breath, now it’s their turn to fight. He phones Captain Schmidt, commander of the second bunker in the nearby village of Kurpiki.

“Schmidt, we have lost the forward line. We need a scout to inform us of the enemy advance. Can you do it?” “Right away.” Schmidt gathers a small crew and together they venture out into the unknown. Taking the same dry swamp as the survivors, they make their way back to the forward positions. When they get there they are met with a scene of utter devastation.

But still they push on. Finding a view down into the river, Schmidt takes a closer look. Some tanks and infantry have made it across, but most are still on the opposite side. A pontoon bridge is being constructed, with men and tanks gathering to use it. “Captain, should we open fire?” “No, it’s not our mission. The most important thing is to get report to the commander.

” The group manage to get back to their bunker and Schmidt shares what he saw with Raginis, including the scout unit. “Shell the area and prepare for battle!” “Yes sir!” The Poles double and triple-check their weapons, determined to make the enemy pay. Time drags on, the explosion of Polish artillery echoes.

Then the enemy aircraft return. Men stuck outside dive for cover as bombs rock the earth around them, the relentless bombing resuming in anger.  Eventually, it subsides, and Raginis knows that can only mean one thing. The Germans fire at the defensive positions, advancing from cover to cover, through the trees and grass.

The Poles return fire from the bunkers and trenches, cutting down Germans left and right. But they have the numbers. They reach one of the trenches and drop in,  taking cover from the bunkers as they fight off the Polish soldiers. The enemy approaching the first bunker of three… “Damn it. We can’t advance.

We are waiting for the main forces.” Hours of stalemate pass until a rumble is heard in the distance. Dread fills the Poles as the source crests over the terrain. It’s 60 Panzers from the 10th Panzer Division. They unleash their guns and the shells slam into the first bunker while the Poles open fire with all they have.

Small arms do little, and the few anti-tank rifles can’t handle the sheer amount of vehicles as shell after shell slams into the fortified emplacements. The men in the first bunker receive the brunt of the enemy attack with Panzer shells pummeling the bunkers as men fight for their lives. Across the main road in the opposite town, Captain Schmidt is facing the same impossible odds.

Gun fire rains down from everywhere and tank shells slam into the heavy concrete. More and more shells slam into the first bunker, until finally… A shell strikes right through the bunker. In the blink of an eye, the first bunker falls to complete silence. Within moments the German infantry breaks down the door and pushes in, taking it over.

The assault carries on with all eyes falling on Raginis’s bunker. But Schmidt isn’t done yet. “Affix bayonets, men!” The Germans hear a war cryand men charge out of the destroyed bunker, Schmidt at the very front. The Germans try to flee, some continuing to fire as the mad Poles run through the hail of bullets.

Schmidt’s men furiously attack the enemies. The Germans try to fight back, but the cohesion of their line has been lost and the Poles cut them down with efficiency wiping out the squad. Schmidt can barely believe that worked. “Get back! Everyone back!” They run back to the safety of the bunker and make it almost completely unscathed.

But it doesn’t last for long. The bombardment resumes and the Polish lines outside break down, destroyed by the overwhelming fire. Schmidt’s bunker is surrounded. Schmidt opens fire with his rifle, joining one of the remaining machine gunners in the defence. German after German falls. The Panzer takes notice.

The tank takes aim. “Exit the bunker!” The shell explodes wrecking the machine gun and firing shrapnel across the room. Schmidt, the machine gunner and three other men are hit. Germans completely surround the complex banging on the doors. Schmidt realises he has no other option and surrenders. Raginis’s bunker is the last one standing, outnumbered and hopelessly outgunned.

The Germans surround the position and attempt to fight their way inside. But the Poles repeatedly fight them off at the doors. The German fire also slows. The whole evening and night is spent in this one-sided stalemate.  “Give up! Your situation is hopeless!” No reply comes. Inside the Poles greet them with a wall of lead.

The bunker doors are becoming unpassable choke points, held by the power of a machine gun. This is repeated multiple times. The Poles determine to inflict as much damage as they can, but…