Opening Moves

Some have been thought brave because they were afraid to run away.

Thomas Fuller

1210 hrs Friday, 27th July 1945, Tank Laager, Stendal, Soviet Occupied Germany.

He was the product of his country’s military machine, twenty-two years of age, finely honed, schooled in war and all its intricacies and yet, both fortunately and humiliatingly, he had seen no combat. Short and thin, he was unassuming to the eye but had abilities which were apparent to all those who taught him during his formative years.

Selected for the officer training as much because of his connections as for his obvious talents, Junior Lieutenant Vladimir Stelmakh had eventually been given command of a brand new development in Soviet armour, namely the Iosef Stalin III. A beast of a tank, some of his peers and one of his class mates had ridden them into action in a small skirmish south of Berlin, and quickly immolated two tired old Panzer IV’s and a battery of 105mm Flak guns without a shot being fired back at them.

Yet more of his friends had been dispatched across the country to serve in the upcoming Manchurian Operation but he, both to his chagrin and relief, still languished in barracks outside the German capital.

Son of a distinguished Red Army General, a man of impeccable political roots as well as of the highest military credentials, Vladimir had done all the things a good up and coming member of the party should do. Meetings attended, works carried out with the Young Communists, forever earning the praise of those who now watched over his progression.

His father had met his death at the hands of the Luftwaffe on the South-Western Front near Kalach in late 1942, leading his troops from the front in one of the many desperate counter-attacks of those fraught times.

The full nurturing of Vladimir’s career meant he was not thrown into the final days and was extended the honour of serving with the 6th Guards Heavy Tank Breakthrough Regiment, 12th Guards Tank Corps, equipped with the revolutionary IS-III, ready to engage the heavier German tanks on even terms with a vehicle of excellent armour defence and hitting power.

Whilst it was an honour to be selected, it was a double-edged sword because to the son of a holder of numerous of his nations highest awards, Vladimir would obviously need to claim some glory of his own if he was not to fall forever under the shadow of his predecessors. Even his grandfather had, in the Czar’s time, won fame and accolades in the Great War, although the final and highest accolade had admittedly also been accompanied by untimely death.

The prospect of serving in the crushing of Japan’s Manchurian army had been similarly raised his hopes, which crushed in turn, and he remained behind as classmates and comrades took their tanks off to fight in the final battles of the war in the east.

It was difficult for him to indulge so wholeheartedly in the European victory celebrations with his comrades when all that sat on his chest were his political awards, not one earned for risking his life in combat or leading his troops in swift victories.

The majority of his unit were veterans, survivors of many bitter clashes with the hated panzers, those whose wits had preserved, skills had saved, or lady luck had plucked from certain death. They had meted out their share of destruction upon the Germans and carried the rewards of their bravery on their uniforms as proudly as they bore the scars sustained earning them beneath them. Alongside them, Vladimir felt equally shamed and relieved, as there was nothing he could do to rectify the situation, so he would probably forever be bereft of evidence of his prowess in combat and commitment to his Motherland.

The American officers with whom he often enjoyed off-duty time had no idea the metal on his chest came from non-combat achievements so, with them at least, he could relax a little. That was perverse, for they represented a system as much despised as the national socialist system that had brought his Motherland so much death and destruction. The capitalists had been useful during the patriotic struggle, that was true, but their system was corrupt and would undoubtedly fall in time.

Whilst others found the Western Allies offensive and considered them as much an enemy as the Germans so recently crushed, Vladimir found solace and comfort in their company solely because they had no idea of his failure to contribute to the event of the century.

In his duties, he was impeccable, training to the highest standard, preparing his troopers for a battle already over. He learned the intricacies of his new tank in depth, and was quick to pass on his knowledge to all his men.