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Speaking of the Devil—or more so, thinking of him—the Colonel appeared with swinging doors, like a shadow bursting out of an abandoned cathedral. Ivushkin quickly reclaimed order within the whispering and muttering men, shouting his commands while he walked along the tight line of cadets, his shout coming low and soft, nothing close to a traditional yell of a military leader. The men understood the command "stand at attention" without him raising his voice. Nikolay decided to stand along with his men instead of coming to the Colonel’s side. Specifically, he stood in front of his crew; despite them all being in a horseshoe formation, his three-man crew, which included his retired loader from their T-62, stood close together. When the Colonel stood in his truest form, arms folded behind his back, he could hear footsteps shuffle behind him. Slightly turning his head to look over his shoulder, he could notice the lanky soldier scoot a few inches behind him than where he stood previously, slim eyes—similar to his own—now wide with trepidation. Ivushkin could scold the boy on proper form, but he chose to shield the boy as he desired. Ivan, often called “Vanya” by his crewmates, was the youngest member of the crew. It took a great deal of mental training for Ivushkin to help him develop into the man he is today. Even so, there are still some things that make him feel uneasy. Evidently, the German Colonel seemed to be one of those things. The Junior Lieutenant, however, could not have been prepared for the official order the Colonel decided to give them. It almost made him unclench his jaw and stare in consternation. Instead, he gritted his teeth and bowed his head to the side, knowing the pair of cadet eyes were all turning to him for explanation, an explanation which he couldn’t give them, for even he didn’t know what was going on. Ivushkin listened on, realizing that Jäger was looking among his men for this “man that disobeyed the order”! Nikolay almost shouted for the meaning of the matter, but retained himself. He looked among his men, turning his head both ways, being met only with perplexed looks. It took some nerve for the Colonel to accuse his own men on their first day on base. He then turned to the one who he could assume would be up to no good, his retired loader, and even he looked up at Nikolay with bewilderment in his expression, shrugging lightly. Ivushkin scoffed and silenced the mutters among the groups with a waved hand, while his legs came to approach the Colonel with little apprehension, as if the energy around the Colonel was optional to feel. Before he even reached fully to the spot Jäger occupied like some guard, he called out. “Before changing the plans, mind telling me beforehand?” Nikolay stepped in front of the Colonel, ignoring the two inches the man had on him. He had dealt with men whose character was greater than their height before. Now, more quietly, he continued. “What’s the matter, Colonel? If I knew you had different plans, I wouldn’t pull out all of my men.” He didn’t sound upset or fiery; instead, he maintained a diplomatic tone that was almost icy in nature. One could say he gained it from a certain translator, who was witnessing the event with solicitousness.

Jäger kept his steely gaze fixed on his despite having gotten compliance. Though it felt twinged with something more than just fear. A scent Jäger regularly picked up on when bringing lesser ranks under his thumb. Subordination almost thick with it, whether for him as a man or merely for the shoulder boards he had earned. They'd bow aside for him more or less. In truth he didn't care how or why so long as his orders were carried out.

But the Junior Lieutenant? His obedience felt of something else entirely. Something Jäger couldn't gleam from his face, or even from the looks back at his allies behind him, as they seemed just that. Perhaps a wish to confirm this was the situation they were in, nothing more. "Good." The German delivered. His voice sounding subtly unsure, his want to decipher this behavior in it, yet confident as if it couldn't fail to come out with that.

"I will return in an hour to check-in on progress." There was nothing left to say. Leaving it all in the air for Ivushkin to sort out. Tasks to be divided up, dolled out, and tanks to once again be moved so they could take advantage of the on site garages. He started to leave, letting his gaze still stay on him till the turn away draw them off. only reaching a few steps away before stopping abruptly. Air still and clean from chatter, Jäger turned around to face him once more. "Before I go."

Prefacing it only about as carefully as tracks greeted the dirt. An innocent enough question, to him, Yet it would tell so much. As young soldiers were easy enough to set straight, it was their masters that he was more worried about. They were an important hinge to success in this program and failure and sorting it out now was imperative. So he made the two step trip back to save their translation officer the assumption of this before all and not just for one. The test administered. "Who was that soldier who hid himself behind you as I arrived?"

As Ivushkin was mid-speech to his men, the damned Colonel decided the white flag hasn’t been risen high enough to count. Ivushkin’s words died into frost in the air, earning only attention to those who could’ve heard it. Suppressing his indignation at the act, he turned his head to look over his shoulder at the other man. Then, he realized that wasn’t noble of him—considering Jäger’s ranks—and turned his body fully to face Jäger. He didn’t stand at attention to avoid showing too much respect, but his posture was enough to demonstrate to his men how to address even the worst of individuals. They would encounter far worse in their own battles; the Russian commanders were not the paragons they were meant to uphold. Every war hardens a man, yet the strongest among them choose to retain their humanity. That is the only way to determine if a man is truly a man. The man before him was only half of one, and even that was an exaggeration. Regardless, he raised his chin in a gesture that would encourage the other to speak. It seemed that the Colonel didn’t like distance; like a magnet, he was pulled closer to Ivushkin. Did he think he was poor at hearing? He sustained some loss of it in his career, but he could still make out Colonel even if he spoke. Ivushkin let him have it, but he couldn’t do that for long. Ivushkin didn’t let much escape his frigid inscrutability; the slight twitch of his eyebrow couldn’t help but escape. He could hear shuffling behind him, as if the words were understood not just by him, but he didn’t look back. Colonel had a look in his eyes that suggested he understood the game he was playing and was determined not to lose it. He was just pressing buttons, trying to figure out which throttle fires the turret, that’s all. Nikolay chose to keep the burn and boil suppressed, however difficult it was. It proved to be quite, as his words came out without premeditating them. Walking to the Colonel in the same fearless steps the Colonel had, Ivushkin didn’t shrink from the man’s impending shadow. “Don’t come near him. If you think he left snow in your shiny boots, forget it.” Even if he knew that what he said was incorrect or too direct, he would have said it anyway because it carried its meaning. There was no reason to latch onto those who had done nothing than stood victim of Colonel’s path of blame. He’s known Ivan, and he would rather face the tank’s turret than mess with a high rank. Anya tried to step forward to smooth over his words, but Nikolay glared her into stillness as soon as he saw her open her mouth on the sidelines, much like an older brother desiring the little ones not to make the situation worse. He stood his ground in front of the man, a little daring with how he stared into Jägers eyes. “Leave my men to me, Fritz”. An old word often talked about the Germans, it was a wound in the Second World War. Ivushkin didn’t care to order a high rank, never had one. It made him end up in low places, but his men’s morale and respect for him mattered more. What Colonel asked wasn’t just a question; it was a threat. And if he’s anything like the commanders out there in the field, he’d challenge orders before submitting to what needs to be. He looked down with his eyes and slightly stepped on Colonel’s boot tip, coating it with flakes of snow. He then looked up with his eyes, the hoods slimmer and eyebrows furrowed. A wordless comment on how idiotic the complaint was.

#@co1one1jgr #80sverse

Speaking of the Devil—or more so, thinking of him—the Colonel appeared with swinging doors, like a shadow bursting out of an abandoned cathedral. Ivushkin quickly reclaimed order within the whispering and muttering men, shouting his commands while he walked along the tight line of cadets, his shout coming low and soft, nothing close to a traditional yell of a military leader. The men understood the command "stand at attention" without him raising his voice. Nikolay decided to stand along with his men instead of coming to the Colonel’s side. Specifically, he stood in front of his crew; despite them all being in a horseshoe formation, his three-man crew, which included his retired loader from their T-62, stood close together. When the Colonel stood in his truest form, arms folded behind his back, he could hear footsteps shuffle behind him. Slightly turning his head to look over his shoulder, he could notice the lanky soldier scoot a few inches behind him than where he stood previously, slim eyes—similar to his own—now wide with trepidation. Ivushkin could scold the boy on proper form, but he chose to shield the boy as he desired. Ivan, often called “Vanya” by his crewmates, was the youngest member of the crew. It took a great deal of mental training for Ivushkin to help him develop into the man he is today. Even so, there are still some things that make him feel uneasy. Evidently, the German Colonel seemed to be one of those things. The Junior Lieutenant, however, could not have been prepared for the official order the Colonel decided to give them. It almost made him unclench his jaw and stare in consternation. Instead, he gritted his teeth and bowed his head to the side, knowing the pair of cadet eyes were all turning to him for explanation, an explanation which he couldn’t give them, for even he didn’t know what was going on. Ivushkin listened on, realizing that Jäger was looking among his men for this “man that disobeyed the order”! Nikolay almost shouted for the meaning of the matter, but retained himself. He looked among his men, turning his head both ways, being met only with perplexed looks. It took some nerve for the Colonel to accuse his own men on their first day on base. He then turned to the one who he could assume would be up to no good, his retired loader, and even he looked up at Nikolay with bewilderment in his expression, shrugging lightly. Ivushkin scoffed and silenced the mutters among the groups with a waved hand, while his legs came to approach the Colonel with little apprehension, as if the energy around the Colonel was optional to feel. Before he even reached fully to the spot Jäger occupied like some guard, he called out. “Before changing the plans, mind telling me beforehand?” Nikolay stepped in front of the Colonel, ignoring the two inches the man had on him. He had dealt with men whose character was greater than their height before. Now, more quietly, he continued. “What’s the matter, Colonel? If I knew you had different plans, I wouldn’t pull out all of my men.” He didn’t sound upset or fiery; instead, he maintained a diplomatic tone that was almost icy in nature. One could say he gained it from a certain translator, who was witnessing the event with solicitousness.

Jager's audit of the Russians went interrupted, but not unfruitful. His tertiary scan of them yielded the final flecks of snow still grasping to fabric, and a cadet ever so slowly and slyly scooting himself behind his Lieutenant once the German let his eyes linger on him. Things he took in vivid technicolor to his memory. The same man who then took his attention by making his way to meet him in the center if the ring they had created. Although he had no answers for Ivushkin. only outcomes. And he'd receive his colleague making as much abundantly apparent.

His voice still bolstered, Jager addressed him. "Perhaps you can tell me, Junior Lieutenant." Letting his chin fall so their eyes met as Ivushkin stepped up to him. An interrogative head tilt to take the place of vocal volume. Their conversation now lowered for the sake of some privacy. "You're men are exactly who I wish to see." Yet so dug into his assertion that his own cadets had learned to behave better. Being privy to and having their own first hand experience in all manner of his discipline. He knew they were innocent, and that it was no coincidence that with their guest's arrival to East Germany that him also becoming the butt of a joke were tied.

The Colonel, in full unblinking accusation, though not for Ivushkin himself, rather for who he inferred Ivushkin would know who did let his eyes bore a hole into him. This little behavior making him look, unreal. letting it ride, effortlessly, the entirety of his continuance. "I assure you, if I could have accounted for such a development I would have informed you. However, it is hard to foresee someone filling my boots with snow." Still scouring for a quick flick of his eyes to his side, or a huff of exasperation. anything to give Jager a hint of him knowing or even having an inkling of who could've done it. Afterall, were the Russian's not given a warm enough welcome? Had they been slighted so quickly after arriving? That too seemed untrue to Jager and the more likely explaination as to why it happened laid to him within utter disrespect.

Then his head realigned. Straight on with Ivushkin as something in his gut prompted a detour from those who stood around them to who stood before him. To pay attention to him. Something about how he didn't falter in skewing Jager's attention away. Perhaps it was a test, a cruel rhetorical as nothing this junior officer could say would even begin to make Jager retract is decision. Since his upset seemed to be deeper seated than just being told what he thought was happening this morning simply wasn't anymore. So he proposed more, to him directly. "Do you have a problem with this Junior Lieutenant?"

Nikolay had encountered many officers who shared the same characteristics as this Colonel, and he understood that they often changed plans to suit their personal agendas. He had grown accustomed to this behavior from his own superiors, but he doubted that the Germans would behave in the same way, given everything he had heard about them. So when he heard the true reason as to what the Colonel was accusing the soldiers of, his eyes almost widened for a moment, remolding back into the indomitable facade he had on him. Snow in the boots—was that the reason for him being late? Ivushkin knew his men, and none of them had that kind of signature to dishonor a high-ranking officer in such a manner. He allowed the silence to linger for a moment, turning to look over his shoulder at his men. They clearly did not understand what was happening, as the translator had stopped interpreting Jäger's words when he approached the Colonel. He turned his head back to the Colonel, in a mannerly time to hear the Colonel’s last words. They sounded thick, like a snake’s poison—Jäger might as well have spat on his face to drill a reaction out of him. He could feel the displeasure in him, having someone question his order, his authority. When Nikolay looked behind Jäger to the German cadets, he could tell what shaped them: fear and discipline. Clearly, they wouldn’t question Jäger if he told them all plans done a week ahead were cancelled, and they’d be tasked with manning their tanks into perfection all afternoon. Ivuskin quickly realized that going further would mark him as "an indisciplined Junior Officer" on Jäger's list. One look back at Colonel Jäger, and Ivushkin knew to face the consequences—he couldn’t believe such an order to be made because of some accident that he himself would’ve forgiven, knowing that it is the least of anyone’s concern when war is waged outside. They were still young, half of them didn’t ask to be here, and they didn’t need this situation.

“No problems with the plan change, no, Colonel,” the rank added in the last second thought, unsure if the German Army used “sir” or rank titles to address a man. “They can clean the tanks until they sparkle. Only, I doubt my men responsible.”Ivushkin maintained his assertion, keeping his gaze fixed on the Colonel's, at times unblinking despite the chilly breeze that swept by them. He briefly glanced down at Jäger's shoes, which were already covered in fresh snow, making it hard to determine whether he was being truthful about the situation. He wasn’t even going to bring up how late the Colonel was; he didn't want to take on more than he could handle, but with how things were going, it might’ve been important to at least mention. He just wanted to clear up his soldiers’ names; if any of them did such a thing, he’d know. Even the one he suspects, surely, wouldn’t be so foolish. And if he was, then it was Ivushkin’s job to handle, not Jäger's. “Putting snow in anyone’s shoes, first for them. I know them, Colonel, you know yours—I can tell.” Nikolay kept eye contact fiercely, aware that it was similar to challenging an animal in the wild, but he wouldn’t do so if he didn’t know he could handle whatever punishment or burst the Colonel was going to have for him for back-talking at him.

-Continued. @co1one1jgr

People are often unprepared for how to interact with someone of a higher rank. Such an issue Nikolay was currently undergoing; he’s only ever been faced with Captains and Majors, never a Colonel, especially a Colonel of important affairs such as this. So all he could do was listen and hum to the question. He doubted the Colonel truly wanted to know; this all seemed like empty chatter to him. “They used our tanks against us. It was too long ago to recall, maybe five? I remember five at most.” Nikolay answered, mostly mumbling to himself. It always amused him how the Afghans used their tanks, those that were supplied to them from the 50s. The only thing the enemy truly owned was their armored vehicles; the rest was Soviet made. Nonetheless, Nikolay didn’t express these thoughts and allowed the conversation to die out where it needed to. He had very little interest in making equals with a rank so high that the men looked like ants from their thrones. Following the Colonel around, Nikolay felt like he was on his first duty as a cadet. Learning where everything was became very important to him here, mostly because he’d hate to ever ask someone for directions after being shown around by the Colonel himself. So he nodded and hummed along, mapping out the entire building within his head, the way he often did in battle. He was close to most of his companions, and most importantly, the cades barracks. He valued that more than being that close to Korin’s abode, so he was grateful for that. As he entered his office, he tilted his head to get a better view of the room. It was spacious, although it didn’t have many of his personal touches, which he planned to change as soon as he had some time to himself in the space. He stepped into it, aiming to examine the oak beauty that was his new desk. He pulled the chair out from under the table, gliding his hands over the glossy varnish. He could already envision the paperwork he would have to fill out and recalled why he always felt relieved not to wear the shiny shoulder pads like the rest of the military. Nikolay lifted his eyes to look at the Colonel, standing against the doorway like he owned the space there. His eyes bounced from the Colonel’s boots to his cap, noticing he still wore his coat. Was he still freezing? The thought amused Nikolay, but he didn’t show. Instead, he raised his chin and circled the desk to a shelf he could fill with various books. Shame he didn’t bring much with him. “Thank you, this is all very luxurious.” Nikolay pressed the pad of his thumb to the shelf’s wood, then tilted his head just to look over his shoulder at Jäger, his hooded eyes giving away nothing. “Where are yours?” He turned his body halfway in the direction of the other man. “We work closely—will be—should know where to find you.” Nikolay pretended that his mouthful of German wasn’t choastritoophic; that way, it would seem intentional. Although he couldn't wait to be left alone to acclimate to the new environment, he needed many of his questions answered. Even though he doubted he would ever need to search for the Colonel, for whatever reason, he understood it was wiser to be informed than to wander around aimlessly when the time came to seek the man.

Klaus kept himself just within the threshold and only just that. Still seeming unwilling to even unbutton his great coat or doff his cap yet despite being well within the building's walls. His mind elsewhere. Namely watching his newly arrived contemporary run his fingers along the wood grain of the mundane furniture that came standard in all the officer's rooms. These taken for granted creature comforts not lost on Ivushkin. Whom, Klaus had assumed previously only had a dusty cot or the worn thin seats of the interior T-62 positions.

Surely he must feel as if he was taking in his own impending domestication. Either way the room would not go unappreciated. A refreshing change when compared to the General Major taking over the command. He refused to be housed where he worked. His absence from this hall not missed. And in fact found highly appropriate as he had no experience as a tanker and very little to contribute.

"Last door at the end of this hall." End of the line in terms of the program as well. Jager answered plainly to the Russian's clunky German. He would still have to acclimate to his style of speaking, as well as how heavily it was weighed down with his mother tongue's accent.

Knock, Knock

Stepping aside to regard who joined them, Sergeant Hein. A tall dark haired man who as soon as Jager turned to see him started to bend forward looking to set his luggage load down. This being stopped before he could by Jager's open palm which he took as 'at ease'. Recovering, he launched into his reason for appearing. " Junior Lieutenant Ivushkin's bags, Colonel." Referring only to his own own officer as he had not yet seen the man who owned the bags standing further in the room. Jager simply turned that hand over to show Ivushkin to him, who could answer for himself. Instructions Hein hurried himself to follow, then gave them both proper salutes. Punctuating Jager's with a grin. "Thank you Wolff." and just as quickly the Sergeant was gone.

Jager would take this cue as well to leave their newest to get familiar with the space alone. Giving some last direction, information, his voice duller, low, his version of friendly which came off as none. "Dinner is at eighteen hundred in the officer's mess. I'll let you get settled." Flicking his eyes from shoes to the hair of the Russian. "We'll see you at orientation tomorrow." And with that Jager excused himself, heading for his own living and working quarters at the foreboding end of the hall.

Nikolay had a fair understanding of the layout by now, so when the Colonel described—poorly—where his own office was located, Nikolay had an idea of where to look if he needed it. He nodded and was about to return his attention to exploring the room when a few knocks gained his attention. His head turned before his body, which followed suit afterwards. He didn’t see the figure that spoke to the Colonel, although he guessed he was much taller than Jäger, with the way he had to look up just an angle. Nikolay realized that his baggage had arrived and hoped it wasn’t too much of a hassle for the soldier, even though he carried very little. Then, he got a name for the soldier, “Wolff”. The Germans always had such odd names, but he tucked away the name in the back of his head in case he’d ever needed it. “Of course,” Nikolay answered to the farewell of the German, similarly eyeing him. When Jäger walked a fair good bit away from his office, Nikolay trotted to the doorway and leaned forward to peek over the doorframe, noting where Jäger turned and marking that as the direction of his office. Since he was already there, he decided to take his bags and bring them into the office. He planned to spend a good portion of his downtime organizing and filling the empty shelves with books, arranging picture frames on his desk, and setting up a chess game on the table between the thick seats. … Come orientation, every cadet stood ready by their tanks. The rest that the Colonel granted them was much needed; it was enough for Nikolay to sort everyone out and for the men to replenish their strength and wits. A lot of the cadets in the company had never experienced real conflict, so it was important for them to learn how to confront it before it could ruin their minds. The weather was colder than ever since the sun hadn't fully raised himself, a thing that affected the cadets, who had just been enjoying the warm beds. Although the German winter wasn't anything like theirs at home, Ivushkin didn't expect anyone to force themselves to stand without even a little shiver in their bodies. They were human, afterall. The commander walked the lines of the crews, ensuring nothing was out of order. After all, they were fresh out of cadet school, and getting into formation at such early hours could still be very new for them. Fortunately, he did, as his walkthrough revealed a gap within a crew he knew. Worst of all, he was fully aware of which soldier was missing. With a deep sigh, he fought not to squeeze his nose-bridge, and instead questioned the fellow crew members. “Кто-нибудь видел Кобзаренко?” A wave of air whisked by him, and when he turned his head back to the gap, it was filled with a panting but also smirking soldier. Ivushkin only hardened his gaze, stepping close to the young soldier, arms locked behind his back. “Мне не нужно говорить тебе, что произойдет, верно?” “Так точно, сэр.” There was sweat underneath the cap of the soldier; his blonde hair—similar to Ivushkin’s—was sticking to his skin. For a man to sweat in the dead of winter would require immense effort. Judging by the labored breaths he was trying to control, Ivushkin guessed that he had run for his life to reach the formation. This alone gave Kobzarenko some leeway, but Ivushkin also noticed him rubbing snow off his gloves with his fingers. That caused Ivushkin to squint, and Kobzarenko quickly stopped. He didn’t presson into the situation,and instead turned his attention to his watch, where he marked the time—they weren’t in a hurry in any way. “Ты не единственный, кто опоздал. Похоже, наш полковник тоже опаздывает.” He wanted to make a remark on how that was something odd for a German; they always prided themselves on being on time, but he decided against it. Best to keep good relations with the men who own this land. Nikolay reviewed the lines again, correcting his crew with a simple glance. He ensured that nobody was becoming too lax and maintained appearances, as their pride and dignity were at stake.

Thielicke shuffled on his feet. The cold more pervasive though his uniform than expected when he dressed this morning. Although they weren’t supposed to be standing in place for this long, completely unlike his superior officer to keep them like this. He traded his gaze from the doors that remained still the entire time he had his eyes on them to the watch on his wrist. Cadets crunching the snow softly behind him as they leaned over to those they were next to, their voices low, yet not low enough to keep from him hearing them. Morning silence heavy as the snow obscuring their feet. Late. Should he call things to order? The Junior Lieutenant stopping before a gap in his lines in his peripherals. Another glance down, double checking he read the two clock hands correctly. The gap now filled.

He started to turn hearing the young men’s voices behind him grow in volume ever so. Drawing more and more of them into the conversation. But just as he did, the doors that seemed frozen burst open. The Captain, mid turn looked as if he knew exactly when the Colonel would appear. Drawing in a deep breath, he switched intentions instantly, calling them all to attention, Anya translating after. And quickly, he knew something was wrong. The Cadet’s ceasing their gossip at once, seeing how he approached. The only eyes late to look forward like statues was a front line German who used his last few seconds to glance at Kobzarenko with concern only fleetingly then blend in with his comrades.

Thielicke met him halfway, the distance watering down his voice he reported. “All cadets both German and Russian present and accou…” Rebuffed, Jäger waved him off. Continuing to place himself at the center of the horseshoe formation they placed themselves in. He didn’t begin immediately, choosing to draw his hands back behind him as was his favor to do so. Though it seemed it only served to open his chest and increase air flow as when he started his voice was clearly articulated and broadly projected. “Your training was intended to begin today. However, due to an unexpected incident of disrespect and utter disregard for order, you will all be cleaning your respective tanks to my sole approval. Practical trials will start tomorrow.”

He let his eyes linger over each foreign face before him. Boring his eyes into their own hunting for a tell, guilt in their faces or a hand wringing the hem of their uniforms to find the culprit. All the while he continued speaking. “Unless whoever is responsible would like to fess up to his misdeed, you will all be punished as comrades.” Jäger left the deal to float in the cold air before him. Fully expecting it to disappear without so much as a second thought from whoever was guilty like his iced breath.

#never would ever do #I love Nikolay's flaws #whatever there is of them if there is any

Speaking of the Devil—or more so, thinking of him—the Colonel appeared with swinging doors, like a shadow bursting out of an abandoned cathedral. Ivushkin quickly reclaimed order within the whispering and muttering men, shouting his commands while he walked along the tight line of cadets, his shout coming low and soft, nothing close to a traditional yell of a military leader. The men understood the command "stand at attention" without him raising his voice. Nikolay decided to stand along with his men instead of coming to the Colonel’s side. Specifically, he stood in front of his crew; despite them all being in a horseshoe formation, his three-man crew, which included his retired loader from their T-62, stood close together. When the Colonel stood in his truest form, arms folded behind his back, he could hear footsteps shuffle behind him. Slightly turning his head to look over his shoulder, he could notice the lanky soldier scoot a few inches behind him than where he stood previously, slim eyes—similar to his own—now wide with trepidation. Ivushkin could scold the boy on proper form, but he chose to shield the boy as he desired. Ivan, often called “Vanya” by his crewmates, was the youngest member of the crew. It took a great deal of mental training for Ivushkin to help him develop into the man he is today. Even so, there are still some things that make him feel uneasy. Evidently, the German Colonel seemed to be one of those things. The Junior Lieutenant, however, could not have been prepared for the official order the Colonel decided to give them. It almost made him unclench his jaw and stare in consternation. Instead, he gritted his teeth and bowed his head to the side, knowing the pair of cadet eyes were all turning to him for explanation, an explanation which he couldn’t give them, for even he didn’t know what was going on. Ivushkin listened on, realizing that Jäger was looking among his men for this “man that disobeyed the order”! Nikolay almost shouted for the meaning of the matter, but retained himself. He looked among his men, turning his head both ways, being met only with perplexed looks. It took some nerve for the Colonel to accuse his own men on their first day on base. He then turned to the one who he could assume would be up to no good, his retired loader, and even he looked up at Nikolay with bewilderment in his expression, shrugging lightly. Ivushkin scoffed and silenced the mutters among the groups with a waved hand, while his legs came to approach the Colonel with little apprehension, as if the energy around the Colonel was optional to feel. Before he even reached fully to the spot Jäger occupied like some guard, he called out. “Before changing the plans, mind telling me beforehand?” Nikolay stepped in front of the Colonel, ignoring the two inches the man had on him. He had dealt with men whose character was greater than their height before. Now, more quietly, he continued. “What’s the matter, Colonel? If I knew you had different plans, I wouldn’t pull out all of my men.” He didn’t sound upset or fiery; instead, he maintained a diplomatic tone that was almost icy in nature. One could say he gained it from a certain translator, who was witnessing the event with solicitousness.

#80sverse #@co1one1jgr

its-a-seikret

Tbh I don't understand anyone who denies their favorite character's flaws and acts like they've never done anything wrong when that is like consistently the most interesting part of any character ever

Don’t be suspicious Don’t be suspicious Don’t be suspicious Don’t be suspicious The colonel:

Funny words @co1one1jgr and the last words of Kobz

#80sverse

gayvampyr

me after a minor inconvenience: i hope i get hit by a [remembers i’m anti car-centric infrastructure] pedestrian

gayvampyr

and i hope she’s an older lesbian

This but it's Nikolay wishing for an older gentleman

#80sverse

-Continued. @co1one1jgr

People are often unprepared for how to interact with someone of a higher rank. Such an issue Nikolay was currently undergoing; he’s only ever been faced with Captains and Majors, never a Colonel, especially a Colonel of important affairs such as this. So all he could do was listen and hum to the question. He doubted the Colonel truly wanted to know; this all seemed like empty chatter to him. “They used our tanks against us. It was too long ago to recall, maybe five? I remember five at most.” Nikolay answered, mostly mumbling to himself. It always amused him how the Afghans used their tanks, those that were supplied to them from the 50s. The only thing the enemy truly owned was their armored vehicles; the rest was Soviet made. Nonetheless, Nikolay didn’t express these thoughts and allowed the conversation to die out where it needed to. He had very little interest in making equals with a rank so high that the men looked like ants from their thrones. Following the Colonel around, Nikolay felt like he was on his first duty as a cadet. Learning where everything was became very important to him here, mostly because he’d hate to ever ask someone for directions after being shown around by the Colonel himself. So he nodded and hummed along, mapping out the entire building within his head, the way he often did in battle. He was close to most of his companions, and most importantly, the cades barracks. He valued that more than being that close to Korin’s abode, so he was grateful for that. As he entered his office, he tilted his head to get a better view of the room. It was spacious, although it didn’t have many of his personal touches, which he planned to change as soon as he had some time to himself in the space. He stepped into it, aiming to examine the oak beauty that was his new desk. He pulled the chair out from under the table, gliding his hands over the glossy varnish. He could already envision the paperwork he would have to fill out and recalled why he always felt relieved not to wear the shiny shoulder pads like the rest of the military. Nikolay lifted his eyes to look at the Colonel, standing against the doorway like he owned the space there. His eyes bounced from the Colonel’s boots to his cap, noticing he still wore his coat. Was he still freezing? The thought amused Nikolay, but he didn’t show. Instead, he raised his chin and circled the desk to a shelf he could fill with various books. Shame he didn’t bring much with him. “Thank you, this is all very luxurious.” Nikolay pressed the pad of his thumb to the shelf’s wood, then tilted his head just to look over his shoulder at Jäger, his hooded eyes giving away nothing. “Where are yours?” He turned his body halfway in the direction of the other man. “We work closely—will be—should know where to find you.” Nikolay pretended that his mouthful of German wasn’t choastritoophic; that way, it would seem intentional. Although he couldn't wait to be left alone to acclimate to the new environment, he needed many of his questions answered. Even though he doubted he would ever need to search for the Colonel, for whatever reason, he understood it was wiser to be informed than to wander around aimlessly when the time came to seek the man.

Klaus kept himself just within the threshold and only just that. Still seeming unwilling to even unbutton his great coat or doff his cap yet despite being well within the building's walls. His mind elsewhere. Namely watching his newly arrived contemporary run his fingers along the wood grain of the mundane furniture that came standard in all the officer's rooms. These taken for granted creature comforts not lost on Ivushkin. Whom, Klaus had assumed previously only had a dusty cot or the worn thin seats of the interior T-62 positions.

Surely he must feel as if he was taking in his own impending domestication. Either way the room would not go unappreciated. A refreshing change when compared to the General Major taking over the command. He refused to be housed where he worked. His absence from this hall not missed. And in fact found highly appropriate as he had no experience as a tanker and very little to contribute.

"Last door at the end of this hall." End of the line in terms of the program as well. Jager answered plainly to the Russian's clunky German. He would still have to acclimate to his style of speaking, as well as how heavily it was weighed down with his mother tongue's accent.

Knock, Knock

Stepping aside to regard who joined them, Sergeant Hein. A tall dark haired man who as soon as Jager turned to see him started to bend forward looking to set his luggage load down. This being stopped before he could by Jager's open palm which he took as 'at ease'. Recovering, he launched into his reason for appearing. " Junior Lieutenant Ivushkin's bags, Colonel." Referring only to his own own officer as he had not yet seen the man who owned the bags standing further in the room. Jager simply turned that hand over to show Ivushkin to him, who could answer for himself. Instructions Hein hurried himself to follow, then gave them both proper salutes. Punctuating Jager's with a grin. "Thank you Wolff." and just as quickly the Sergeant was gone.

Jager would take this cue as well to leave their newest to get familiar with the space alone. Giving some last direction, information, his voice duller, low, his version of friendly which came off as none. "Dinner is at eighteen hundred in the officer's mess. I'll let you get settled." Flicking his eyes from shoes to the hair of the Russian. "We'll see you at orientation tomorrow." And with that Jager excused himself, heading for his own living and working quarters at the foreboding end of the hall.

Nikolay had a fair understanding of the layout by now, so when the Colonel described—poorly—where his own office was located, Nikolay had an idea of where to look if he needed it. He nodded and was about to return his attention to exploring the room when a few knocks gained his attention. His head turned before his body, which followed suit afterwards. He didn’t see the figure that spoke to the Colonel, although he guessed he was much taller than Jäger, with the way he had to look up just an angle. Nikolay realized that his baggage had arrived and hoped it wasn’t too much of a hassle for the soldier, even though he carried very little. Then, he got a name for the soldier, “Wolff”. The Germans always had such odd names, but he tucked away the name in the back of his head in case he’d ever needed it. “Of course,” Nikolay answered to the farewell of the German, similarly eyeing him. When Jäger walked a fair good bit away from his office, Nikolay trotted to the doorway and leaned forward to peek over the doorframe, noting where Jäger turned and marking that as the direction of his office. Since he was already there, he decided to take his bags and bring them into the office. He planned to spend a good portion of his downtime organizing and filling the empty shelves with books, arranging picture frames on his desk, and setting up a chess game on the table between the thick seats. … Come orientation, every cadet stood ready by their tanks. The rest that the Colonel granted them was much needed; it was enough for Nikolay to sort everyone out and for the men to replenish their strength and wits. A lot of the cadets in the company had never experienced real conflict, so it was important for them to learn how to confront it before it could ruin their minds. The weather was colder than ever since the sun hadn't fully raised himself, a thing that affected the cadets, who had just been enjoying the warm beds. Although the German winter wasn't anything like theirs at home, Ivushkin didn't expect anyone to force themselves to stand without even a little shiver in their bodies. They were human, afterall. The commander walked the lines of the crews, ensuring nothing was out of order. After all, they were fresh out of cadet school, and getting into formation at such early hours could still be very new for them. Fortunately, he did, as his walkthrough revealed a gap within a crew he knew. Worst of all, he was fully aware of which soldier was missing. With a deep sigh, he fought not to squeeze his nose-bridge, and instead questioned the fellow crew members. “Кто-нибудь видел Кобзаренко?” A wave of air whisked by him, and when he turned his head back to the gap, it was filled with a panting but also smirking soldier. Ivushkin only hardened his gaze, stepping close to the young soldier, arms locked behind his back. “Мне не нужно говорить тебе, что произойдет, верно?” “Так точно, сэр.” There was sweat underneath the cap of the soldier; his blonde hair—similar to Ivushkin’s—was sticking to his skin. For a man to sweat in the dead of winter would require immense effort. Judging by the labored breaths he was trying to control, Ivushkin guessed that he had run for his life to reach the formation. This alone gave Kobzarenko some leeway, but Ivushkin also noticed him rubbing snow off his gloves with his fingers. That caused Ivushkin to squint, and Kobzarenko quickly stopped. He didn’t presson into the situation,and instead turned his attention to his watch, where he marked the time—they weren’t in a hurry in any way. “Ты не единственный, кто опоздал. Похоже, наш полковник тоже опаздывает.” He wanted to make a remark on how that was something odd for a German; they always prided themselves on being on time, but he decided against it. Best to keep good relations with the men who own this land. Nikolay reviewed the lines again, correcting his crew with a simple glance. He ensured that nobody was becoming too lax and maintained appearances, as their pride and dignity were at stake.

#@co1one1jgr #80sverse

-Continued. @co1one1jgr

People are often unprepared for how to interact with someone of a higher rank. Such an issue Nikolay was currently undergoing; he’s only ever been faced with Captains and Majors, never a Colonel, especially a Colonel of important affairs such as this. So all he could do was listen and hum to the question. He doubted the Colonel truly wanted to know; this all seemed like empty chatter to him. “They used our tanks against us. It was too long ago to recall, maybe five? I remember five at most.” Nikolay answered, mostly mumbling to himself. It always amused him how the Afghans used their tanks, those that were supplied to them from the 50s. The only thing the enemy truly owned was their armored vehicles; the rest was Soviet made. Nonetheless, Nikolay didn’t express these thoughts and allowed the conversation to die out where it needed to. He had very little interest in making equals with a rank so high that the men looked like ants from their thrones. Following the Colonel around, Nikolay felt like he was on his first duty as a cadet. Learning where everything was became very important to him here, mostly because he’d hate to ever ask someone for directions after being shown around by the Colonel himself. So he nodded and hummed along, mapping out the entire building within his head, the way he often did in battle. He was close to most of his companions, and most importantly, the cades barracks. He valued that more than being that close to Korin’s abode, so he was grateful for that. As he entered his office, he tilted his head to get a better view of the room. It was spacious, although it didn’t have many of his personal touches, which he planned to change as soon as he had some time to himself in the space. He stepped into it, aiming to examine the oak beauty that was his new desk. He pulled the chair out from under the table, gliding his hands over the glossy varnish. He could already envision the paperwork he would have to fill out and recalled why he always felt relieved not to wear the shiny shoulder pads like the rest of the military. Nikolay lifted his eyes to look at the Colonel, standing against the doorway like he owned the space there. His eyes bounced from the Colonel’s boots to his cap, noticing he still wore his coat. Was he still freezing? The thought amused Nikolay, but he didn’t show. Instead, he raised his chin and circled the desk to a shelf he could fill with various books. Shame he didn’t bring much with him. “Thank you, this is all very luxurious.” Nikolay pressed the pad of his thumb to the shelf’s wood, then tilted his head just to look over his shoulder at Jäger, his hooded eyes giving away nothing. “Where are yours?” He turned his body halfway in the direction of the other man. “We work closely—will be—should know where to find you.” Nikolay pretended that his mouthful of German wasn’t choastritoophic; that way, it would seem intentional. Although he couldn't wait to be left alone to acclimate to the new environment, he needed many of his questions answered. Even though he doubted he would ever need to search for the Colonel, for whatever reason, he understood it was wiser to be informed than to wander around aimlessly when the time came to seek the man.

#@co1one1jgr #80sverse

-Continued.

The GeneralMajor, letting a grin take his lips and push his mustache up the sides of his face. “I’ll leave you to it Colonel Jäger.” Then beckoned her over with an outstretched hand. Though she’d go closer to Korin than him. “Bitte, Bitte.” Bidding them to take their leave back inside so a further tour could be given. Klaus’ eyes only flicked to him momentarily, reluctant to let the Junior Lieutenant out his sight. Saukel launching into a flurry of words that only dimmed as they got farther and eventually inside.

Now it was just He, Thielicke, who wandered closer to the tanks waiting in the wings of the garage, and this Junior Lieutenant. Ignoring the eyes of the Russian crews that still found their way to thicken the air in their curiosity. Ivushkin intended them to follow and they did. Though the destination was clear. A T-80 spinning itself silly while the others found their new temporary homes in the garage the Germans had provided. Kicking up the loose dust on the pavement and mixing it in with the exhaust. A stunt Klaus would never allow his own crews and were thankful they were on the other side of the motor pool prepping.

Approaching it discerning razor sharp eyes. As the beast stopped and lowered its smoothbore cannon to him. A keep away warning almost, Ivushkin was allowed closer without protest. His mere presence calming it. To run his hand along it and speak of it as if it were a show horse. Klaus had remembered when the Soviet Union furnished them with T-72s. A tank he knew well because of it, before they had struck a deal with the west Germans to receive a limited number of Leopards.

New tanks, new tank technology, new crews, new colleague. One who’s German was weighed down with his Russian accent, despite being surprisingly proficient. “I want to asses your crews before training them.” His peaked cap moving in the air exaggerating the smaller tilts his he took. “Find any weaknesses they may have, gaps in their knowledge. Each will run through three tests and be scored accordingly. I’m sure you can see why I wish to do so.” He held onto Ivushkin’s gaze all the while he spoke. Stubbornly almost, trying to gauge how this specific man would act down the line. Though that seemed harder to deduce just yet than he had hoped. “Your captain mentioned you might prefer having our leopards in place of the targets in the final test. We’re willing to comply. Although as I told him, yours will navigate it all solo.”

Jäger approached the tank. His attention now on the armor of it rather than its commander. Watching the side skirt, under Ivushkin’s leaning form, merged to front armor. Strolling to the opposite side Ivushkin nestled into. Analyzing it, letting his eyes seep into the periscope windows and linger on whoever was on the other side, though he couldn’t see them. They were there and that was all he needed to know. Then back to conversation. Snapping his head to the junior lieutenant. “Where did you learn German?”

The Colonel’s idea for the project wasn’t as complex as Ivushkin thought it would be, but perhaps that was just a simple version; the man might’ve doubted his ability to catch the German tongue as well as Anya could. To that, the Russian tanker only stared ahead at Jäger while he informed him of his plans, his eyes squinting ever so slightly from the sunlight. The beast beneath Nikolay grumbled, her engine calming down in the cold air, as was designed. Ivushkin hardly felt the breeze through his uniform, despite not having a warmer one. The Germans seemed to have adapted theirs from their own, seeing as the great coat mimicked that of the Soviets, and for the most part, they wore it well. Still, he doubted they were warm enough. The more he listened, the more he caught on that Jäger’s German sounded different from the Generalmajor’s; it ran smoother, although the rasp in his throat told Ivushkin that he must shout often. The way Jäger walked towards him and peered into the tank made Ivushkin raise an eyebrow and make a mental note: the Colonel was confident, to say the least. It will be difficult to share this project between them down the line. Ivushkin was already certain of that. As much as Ivushkin would’ve liked to stare the Colonel down to find out any more, he had to tear his gaze away and look at the rest of the T-80s that settled in their places. All of these crews, only he would be responsible for. So whatever Jäger would have in mind would affect the relationships between him and these men. He only hummed in response to all that Jäger said, not yet finding the right words in his mind—and untimely not wanting to yet. He thought Jäger had more to say with how passionate he had sounded, but the question he asked snapped his head to him. He leaned forward a little, his arms still crossed against his chest and his foot coming to press the sole of the boot onto the tank’s tracks. “School,” Ivushkin answered plainly, still looking at Jäger with a pointed look. That persistence to look away ran through both of them, it seemed. “Not all the crew know it. One in mine,” Ivushkin hit the side of the tank with the palm part of his fist, making her rattle on the inside. The long muzzle turned where he was standing, signaling that he had been heard. “Gunner. The rest, not so much.” Peeling off the guard of his tank, Ivushkin ducked down under the turret with his hands in his pants pockets, standing close enough to Jäger that he caught a whiff of tobacco, the cold wind pushing it into his face enough to make him wrinkle his nose for a second. “I like your ideas. But it isn’t today; they had just gotten here.” Ivushkin meant it more as a question, hoping that Jäger and the Generalmajor would show mercy for the tired soldiers, but thought the Colonel would understand without the corrections. “When, if not today. In a few days? They’ll be ready.” Nikolay leaned his hip on the tank and simply occupied the space Jäger made for himself, his eyes not leaving him. He could already tell that Jäger has his nose in the air too often, so by stepping his foot into the control zone Jäger wanted so terribly for himself, he hoped to assert himself as a competent comrade.

This Junior Lieutenant sure definitely was sure of himself, though in a way he had only seen on rookies. The casual demeanor, the near nonexistent need to rush anything at all. How all Junior officers acted when they left the lowest rank of their class. A signal they were becoming someone, their ego growing faster than their pay grade. Yet he seemed less and less so the type the more Klaus watched him. Imperceptible aside from his gut telling him so. At least they seemed decently supplied with German knowledge. Two of this crew and the Warrant Officer back with Korin. Well enough that Klaus felt little need, now hearing him talk, to request the Russian Warrant Officer back. It would certainly be interesting to head the gunner optimally over the radios in basic German. Klaus already thinking as to how they may perform if they were so in sync as to animate the tank though it were alive. Klaus nodding he understood.

Then the Junior Lieutenant approached. He held his ground. Klaus’ face even in its stern rest staring straight forward at him. To mull the rest of what he was being told over. Saukel’s instilling of treating their guests well still fresh in his mind. Gold shoulder boards glittering above his own silver. It was late in the day, and while that ment nothing for actual operations Klaus knew travel took its toll, even more so from Russia to Germany. He’d bargain, pulling the buttons of on panel of his coat to meet the other and push them through their corresponding holes. Speaking through the action, watching Ivushkin from a side eyed angle. “I can give you the rest of today and tomorrow. No longer.” We hadn’t the time. Not if you want them functional in a month.

The coat now closed around him, he replaced his arms behind his back as they always seemed to want to be, and stepped to turn towards the Russian. Just to face him. No ground gained or lost. “They can all get familiar with your living quarters, someone will be around to give your crews a tour.” He then twisted his upper body and head slightly in the direction he saw Thielicke go in who had been walking around the same tank they spoke before. Him popping out immediately around its tracks to see him, ready for a task. “Gather our crews, tell them to help the Russians bring their bags into their rooms.”

“Jawol.” Coming to attention then going off to gather the German cadets who had been kept in a class on their leopard’s engine and how to fix potential break downs. Eager young men caged inside as they felt the Russians arrive. Them growing antsy in their seats to finally see who they’d be working with, the new tanks, and perhaps them all in action. A wish of Jäger’s so their visitors could at least arrive in relative peace. “As for you,” redirecting back to Ivushkin. Hoping to get out of the cold wind that now was starting to flurry. “We’ve prepared you your own office as well as a room. I’d much enjoy to hear about your exploits in Afghanistan, your reputation precedes you in your comrades and I unfortunately have not had the chance to brush up. If you will allow me to show you myself.”

Ivushkin’s eyes didn’t wander far from Jäger, if at all. He watched as he began to fasten his coat, as if it had gotten too cold for him. The shoulder boards didn’t escape him, nor did the glint of medals underneath the coat, before they were hidden completely from view with the coat, showcasing this Colonel as the real deal. Ivushkin himself didn’t have many medals to work with, though he chose not to worry himself over it. Medals come and go; it’s battles that need to be won, not some medal that tells everyone who he is. If he and Korin had anything in common, it was the enjoyment of not being known to the fullest.

“Understood,” Nikolay boldly told, only missing some of Jäger’s words, but he got the general idea of what was to happen. When Jäger turned to a certain direction, Nikolay squinted and turned around to see the Captain that Jäger had brought with him. Nikolay figured he was also a tankest, as the rest of the people here. He only stared at the man, not offering any acknowledgement besides that, mostly out of respect for Jäger to speak his sentence. The word the Captain spoke escaped his mind, but he assumed it meant exactly what Nikolay had said earlier. The notion of them being called “the Russians” made Nikolay snort, shaking his head and loosening his arms from their crossed position. So that’s how they’ll be. This Colonel certainly was pretty cutthroat when it came to it. Regardless, he assumed a straight position in front of the higher rank, turning his head to the man when he continued to speak. Ivushkin didn’t allow any reaction to his reputation being mentioned besides a head bow, his eyes not leaving the Colonel. “There isn’t much to speak of, sir. But I can entertain.” Ivushkin turned his head to the tank and side-glanced Jäger, gesturing with his head to the tank. “One moment, I warn the others about the intel.” Not his best work in this language, but he figured it was better than most. He turned away from Jäger with a quick salute, hoping to be at least somewhat respectful in the manner. Rising one leg to hurl himself onto the tank, then resting his foot on the head of the tank. Ivushkin hit his fist on the armor of the tank a few times, which made the hatch open up; a soldier with a rather young face stared up at Nikolay, smot and grease covering his face that he tried to rub off his face. Nikolay laid his arm on his raised leg’s knee, gesturing to the direction the German Captain went. “Немцы проведут для вас экскурсию, ребята. Мне придется пойти с полковником.” Nikolay hardly struggled to get the words out, speaking as smoothly as his tongue for the words. The younger soldier drew out a sound of thought before looking down, then back up, nodding to the orders. Nikolay then continued, “Скажи Степану, что он будет за главного, пока меня не будет.” Ivushkin patted the boy’s shoulder and pushed off the head of the tank, jumping down onto the ground. Before the hatch closed, Nikolay shouted lowly enough that it wouldn’t startle anyone, “И скажи Кобзаренко, чтобы возвращался к себе экипаж.” A different voice sounded in the tank, more of a confused sound. Kobzarenko was his crew’s loader before they were given the T-80, and throughout their journey, he was often found within Merciless. Nikolay understood the need for closeness, as he forced Korin to give Kobzarenko a positaion within his company instead of throwing him into some kind of crew through the war. But he didn’t want to enforce the behavior by having Kobzarenko never be in his actual crew.

With the fondness quickly fleeting his eyes, Ivushkin turned to face Jäger, nodding ahead and gesturing his hand forward, as if asking to lead the way. He didn’t know the layout well yet, but he planned to change that very quickly. “They know now. Now, as for what we did there…” He walked along with Jäger, steps syncing due to military training with marching. “The Afgantsy know what to throw. Cut us down to three tanks, one moment.” Ivushkin explained with bitterness, but the wind that blazed his face softened his tone as he inhaled the frost. “She’s named after one we lost.” He gestured to the T-80 with a head nod.

-Continued.

The GeneralMajor, letting a grin take his lips and push his mustache up the sides of his face. “I’ll leave you to it Colonel Jäger.” Then beckoned her over with an outstretched hand. Though she’d go closer to Korin than him. “Bitte, Bitte.” Bidding them to take their leave back inside so a further tour could be given. Klaus’ eyes only flicked to him momentarily, reluctant to let the Junior Lieutenant out his sight. Saukel launching into a flurry of words that only dimmed as they got farther and eventually inside.

Now it was just He, Thielicke, who wandered closer to the tanks waiting in the wings of the garage, and this Junior Lieutenant. Ignoring the eyes of the Russian crews that still found their way to thicken the air in their curiosity. Ivushkin intended them to follow and they did. Though the destination was clear. A T-80 spinning itself silly while the others found their new temporary homes in the garage the Germans had provided. Kicking up the loose dust on the pavement and mixing it in with the exhaust. A stunt Klaus would never allow his own crews and were thankful they were on the other side of the motor pool prepping.

Approaching it discerning razor sharp eyes. As the beast stopped and lowered its smoothbore cannon to him. A keep away warning almost, Ivushkin was allowed closer without protest. His mere presence calming it. To run his hand along it and speak of it as if it were a show horse. Klaus had remembered when the Soviet Union furnished them with T-72s. A tank he knew well because of it, before they had struck a deal with the west Germans to receive a limited number of Leopards.

New tanks, new tank technology, new crews, new colleague. One who’s German was weighed down with his Russian accent, despite being surprisingly proficient. “I want to asses your crews before training them.” His peaked cap moving in the air exaggerating the smaller tilts his he took. “Find any weaknesses they may have, gaps in their knowledge. Each will run through three tests and be scored accordingly. I’m sure you can see why I wish to do so.” He held onto Ivushkin’s gaze all the while he spoke. Stubbornly almost, trying to gauge how this specific man would act down the line. Though that seemed harder to deduce just yet than he had hoped. “Your captain mentioned you might prefer having our leopards in place of the targets in the final test. We’re willing to comply. Although as I told him, yours will navigate it all solo.”

Jäger approached the tank. His attention now on the armor of it rather than its commander. Watching the side skirt, under Ivushkin’s leaning form, merged to front armor. Strolling to the opposite side Ivushkin nestled into. Analyzing it, letting his eyes seep into the periscope windows and linger on whoever was on the other side, though he couldn’t see them. They were there and that was all he needed to know. Then back to conversation. Snapping his head to the junior lieutenant. “Where did you learn German?”

#@co1one1jgr #//that's so smart omg bless

The Colonel’s idea for the project wasn’t as complex as Ivushkin thought it would be, but perhaps that was just a simple version; the man might’ve doubted his ability to catch the German tongue as well as Anya could. To that, the Russian tanker only stared ahead at Jäger while he informed him of his plans, his eyes squinting ever so slightly from the sunlight. The beast beneath Nikolay grumbled, her engine calming down in the cold air, as was designed. Ivushkin hardly felt the breeze through his uniform, despite not having a warmer one. The Germans seemed to have adapted theirs from their own, seeing as the great coat mimicked that of the Soviets, and for the most part, they wore it well. Still, he doubted they were warm enough. The more he listened, the more he caught on that Jäger’s German sounded different from the Generalmajor’s; it ran smoother, although the rasp in his throat told Ivushkin that he must shout often. The way Jäger walked towards him and peered into the tank made Ivushkin raise an eyebrow and make a mental note: the Colonel was confident, to say the least. It will be difficult to share this project between them down the line. Ivushkin was already certain of that. As much as Ivushkin would’ve liked to stare the Colonel down to find out any more, he had to tear his gaze away and look at the rest of the T-80s that settled in their places. All of these crews, only he would be responsible for. So whatever Jäger would have in mind would affect the relationships between him and these men. He only hummed in response to all that Jäger said, not yet finding the right words in his mind—and untimely not wanting to yet. He thought Jäger had more to say with how passionate he had sounded, but the question he asked snapped his head to him. He leaned forward a little, his arms still crossed against his chest and his foot coming to press the sole of the boot onto the tank’s tracks. “School,” Ivushkin answered plainly, still looking at Jäger with a pointed look. That persistence to look away ran through both of them, it seemed. “Not all the crew know it. One in mine,” Ivushkin hit the side of the tank with the palm part of his fist, making her rattle on the inside. The long muzzle turned where he was standing, signaling that he had been heard. “Gunner. The rest, not so much.” Peeling off the guard of his tank, Ivushkin ducked down under the turret with his hands in his pants pockets, standing close enough to Jäger that he caught a whiff of tobacco, the cold wind pushing it into his face enough to make him wrinkle his nose for a second. “I like your ideas. But it isn’t today; they had just gotten here.” Ivushkin meant it more as a question, hoping that Jäger and the Generalmajor would show mercy for the tired soldiers, but thought the Colonel would understand without the corrections. “When, if not today. In a few days? They’ll be ready.” Nikolay leaned his hip on the tank and simply occupied the space Jäger made for himself, his eyes not leaving him. He could already tell that Jäger has his nose in the air too often, so by stepping his foot into the control zone Jäger wanted so terribly for himself, he hoped to assert himself as a competent comrade.

@co1one1jgr

Germany’s East wasn’t all that much to take in. Of course, the Country had its unique sights, as any Country—it simply wasn’t attractive to the eyes of someone who had seen many lands and their towns. The stores that were set up ran well, and the flashing blurs of the passersby spoke of a thriving city. Despite the political strain on Germany, the people kept on working, they kept on living. Slowly, the views of civil life began to dwindle, and more and more boots hummed the earth with their marching, foreign tongue reaching Korin’s ears, who leaned his head slightly to look out the car’s window. Soldiers marched alongside the vehicle for a time, until the car passed by them too. They held themselves high, the German soul clearly strong within them. Korin’s eyes followed them whenever they appeared in his view, watching as they’d pass the street just before the car ran by, or turn their heads to see the importance of such arrival. Korin leaned back against the seat, crossing his arms against his chest. Besides him, shuffling attracted his attention, eyes skimming the figure that sat there. She was a fair lady, a uniform similar to Korin's if only feminine, as per code. Where her hands folded on her lap, her skirt reached to her knees, but where Korin had pants, she had leggings for the cold weather. He had a coat around his shoulders, while she wore hers. They both adorned ushankas on their head, her hair done in a neat bun just below the seam of the hat. She didn’t keep her head down, but she was mindful to keep her gaze ahead and not at the man beside her. Korin took his eyes off her and swore he heard her breathe easier in gratitude. Once the brakes squealed against the slippery road, Korin didn’t wait until a German soldier opened the door for him. He still greeted the younger man with a crude nod, but adjusted his coat upon his shoulders and walked on, boots unafraid to slip on the ice that had sand thrown over it. Anya joined suit, following a little behind but remaining close nonetheless. With their party, there was supposed to be another, but due to a terribly good reason, Korin lacked the man who was the head of it all. The base was a large one, but that made finding the main quarters of the Generalmajor fairly simple, especially with the Soviets’ communicator, Anya, who asked all the questions that Korin did, just in a different language. Even when the warmth of the building hit his burnt face, he didn’t relax into it. He simply shrugged his coat into the hands of a German solider who he didn’t bother looking at the rank of, and stepped forward, allowing Anya to present them. “Captain Korin,” she announced smoothly, Korin taking his cap off respectfully and handing it to be hung on the coat hanger. He turned to the audience of their business, awaiting an invite to be seated.

A stout man with grey hair and gold shoulder boards stiffly met them just after the door had closed. The short flurry of grey uniformed men dispersed with their hats and coats to be held safely in an unseen room. “Welcome, our friends from Moscow. Generalmajor Saukel.” He boomed across the floor to them. Extending a hand before he stood across from them. His wide frog like mouth upturned to a grin though his features told that that was not usually the case. “Come, we’ll be meeting in another room.” Showing them the hall opening.

Up a carpeted set of incredibly wide steps. The kind that would’ve been useful for gatherings when the Kaiser still held power for great military gatherings. Now only held the socialist jackboots that stepped ruts into the thin drab carpet. The room Saukel spoke of being found at the top of these steps. The room they were lead into was warm with wood paneling, broad and empty for the most part aside from the accommodating meeting table that sat at its center. Open but stifling, complete with cigarette smoke still hanging int he air despite the clean ashtrays on the table. The walls given sparsely placed and tiny, for the wall space, framed photos of the national leaders in order of importance. Flags of both countries stood draped upright on their staffs at either end of huge windows overlooking a sprawling tracked field further painted in grey fog.

Two upside down officer caps beside their matching Germans who stood along the table edge speaking to one another, turning at the sound. “Our panzer officers, Colonel Jäger.” Saukel introduced first, holding his hand out, palm up in his direction. The more slight of the two, yet he held an imposing presence. His blue eyes sharp on their guests. His relatively relaxed position leaning against the table replaced with a more soldierly one, his hands finding each other behind his back. His chin going up as if the collar of his uniform held a pin that’d stick him if he relaxed. “I’m sure you’re well aware of his credentials and experience. He will be heading our end of all of this.” Then he shifted to the other man. “Captain Thielicke, equally as capable though everything operational will go through myself and Jäger.” Thielicke giving a subtle bow in greeting. Neither speaking yet or moving to be as accommodating as Saukel forced himself to be.

“Please. Sit.” Their host beckoned them all. More than enough empty seats for them all. Walter spoke one more time, after taking his own seat beside Jäger. Folding his hands atop the table. “I was told there was one more to be with you, where is he?”

People often mention that first impressions are crucial to understanding a character before them, and although Korin wasn’t ever one for the best ones, the man before him had left something. From his demeanor to the language he employed, he could easily identify a sycophant. Korin reached his hand in greeting, shaking it firmly and releasing, listening to Anya translate the Generalmajor’s words to something he’d understand. He nodded along, remaining with a sealed jaw unlike their German host, who could most likely make the walls rattle with the voice he gave. When the Generalmajor began walking, the two Russian Officers followed suit, Korin glancing at his side to Anya, spotting the young lady glancing all around the hall with her eyes alone. He made it out to be curiosity, which was common for those who didn’t travel much. From what he gathered, this operation would mark her first venture outside of domestic matters. He didn’t fix her gaze with his own, only kept his on the host.

Anyone who could say the insides of such a facility aren’t grand would have their tongues cut out for lying. It wasn’t the largest room Korin had ever been in, but it stood out from most. The flags waved gently in what little wind there was inside the space, and the table spoke of many figures, yet there were only five that Korin could count. The two German Officers stood out from the bleak darkness of the room; they stood at equal height, though one of them was broader in physique. Korin didn’t pay too much mind to either, and instead followed the Generalmajor further into the room. He couldn’t say the same about his communicator Officer, who had to shuffle quickly to keep up behind him, eyes distracted by the two Germans. He uttered something soon under his breath, his voice coming scratchy and rough, but it came out smooth and gentle through hers. “Pleasure to meet the grand Officers,” Anya repeated, “Captain Korin, tanker.” Korin hummed at the words, listening to Saukel’s words in his own tongue. He nodded to Anya, moving to the table when they were invited. As she was translating to him, Korin pulled out the chair from under the table so she could sit. Only then did he seat himself. Now that he had the time, he looked over at the man who was supposed to be the head of it all, along with Saukel. He stood much like a stick within dirt, firm and stern. The medals shining on his uniform jacket spoke of hard-earned battles and many wounds that littered the insides of that shiny uniform. The man beside him—Thielicke—lacked the amount that Jäger had, yet stood just as respectfully. Unlike any of them, Korin adorned disfiguring scarring across his face and even his hands, molten flesh that sizzeled together to form dents like rivers across his cheekbones and the side of his head. He was aware of it all without a mirror, and so decided to spare them from the sight; he didn’t look too hard at the young Officers. Anya perked at the question, leaning toward Korin while speaking. Korin glanced from Saukel to her, gesturing with her hand that she had the floor for conversation; she knew as much as he did, after all. She turned her attention to their German comrades, folding her hands on her lap while crossing her ankles below the table. “He will be arriving shortly, he decided not to come with our party. Currently, he’s ensuring that our tanks arrive safely at your borders. He should arrive once we are done.” She skimmed the room for any disapproval, then looked back down at the table, though her eyes at times met the two Officers at either side of the Generalmajor, a light smile on her face to offer her friendliness. She then continued, “We appreciate the effort East is providing our armies with. This aid won’t go unnoticed by us. However, we only seek to settle a few matters; the program will see itself filmed for our countrymen to join the effort in the war. This will mean the same for your side of things, sir. Captain Korin would command our platoon. I am merely here to pass your word to him.” She glanced at Korin for any hint of him desiring to speak, but he remained quiet. “That being said, this program will involve training our men for true combat. The man who was supposed accompany him today is from the front; he does not need the aid. But the platoon does, we will be introducing our newest models to them, hoping to turn the war in our favor. This would include testing the models to their limit, a feat surely not difficult for your Lepords.” Anya smiled once more their way, allowing the information to process. Korin stayed silent, his arms folded on the table while he leaned on them, eyes trained on the Generalmajor.

The Generalmajor’s smug aura only grew more so. As if this woman was paying him compliments specifically. Quietly basking in the future plans of grander he had yet to live. He spoke quickly after she had finished, “And we are immensely honored you’ve thought of our tank program so highly as bring your men here to be trained.” He had to readjust himself in his chair to let the praise sit better upon his shoulders. “Jäger is our premier panzer officer and guaranteed to whip them into shape.”

While his senior officer spoke, Jäger’s mind was working. Doubt already working its way into the forefront of his mind. As he had his doubts. Namely that if the man who was still yet to be met with so much experience why hadn’t he trained their men. He thought it an overstep, that the Russians and their concentration of power in Moscow had made them feel as if they could step over into another country and make a mess there instead of their huge Siberian backyard. He was not going to play nice, and it was showing as much upon his face. Discerning, precise, and unyielding.

He then took the floor in the pause Saukel left. “We have worked out a timeline for this training based on the information you’ve previously provided us and what you’d like to get out of this partnership. And once your senior officer arrives there should be no reason not to immediately begin.” Jäger left his chair and casually made his way to the big window overseeing the training field, turned back to them placing his hands behind his back again, a professor about to begin his lesson. “Firstly, we wish to quantify a baseline of where they lay in their current abilities and the limits of the tanks. They will be made to navigate three different courses. The first testing the agility and mechanical abilities of the tanks along with the skills of the crew to work together in navigation.” He circled the general position of the course with his fingers standing on end just above the glass surface to a preset, open, marked course lay out like a racetrack. To then point at the vast sandy openness that cut the field down the middle. “Next is a general fire range. I wish to see how competent the crews are in identifying and properly sighting their targets without distractions at different distances.”

Lastly he stepped to the farthest side of the window from where he started. A heavily wooded area that was pushed towards the back of the field. Arguably looking as if the property ended at its wood line though this was the exact place he was referring to. “Finally, the third. It will be treated as if a real engagement. The crews are to navigate our wooded course, the same we put our Leopards through, and eliminate the planted targets throughout it while utilizing the tank and their environment to its fullest ability. The crews will rely entirely on themselves to get through. This will allow us to identifying short comings and problem areas within the crews and tanks themselves.” Finished he turned back to them, the invisible pin unneeded to keep his chin up.

The communication Officer spared Saukel one last smile before turning her attention to the Senior Officer, Jäger. He wasn’t a welcoming sight to look upon, and when he spoke, it was akin to dragging a dull knife against a brick wall; coarse and rough, his voice spoke of constant use. Anya’s eyes followed his figure when he rose, and although she was aware he wasn’t much taller than her, his mere presence felt higher than the world itself. Jäager understood how to present himself in a way that prevented others from underestimating him. It took her a few moments before she began translating his speech to Korin, turning her head away from him and moreso to Korin, giving him her ear equally to Jäger, making sure her voice was quieter than Jäager’s. Her eyes were staring at Korin’s lap, fingers interlocking to keep herself busy while listening to the Senior Officer. Korin, on the other hand, pressed the pad of his thumb against his chin while the other arm was relaxed on the table, clearly listening to the young man’s plan for his soldiers. With Korin, it was difficult to say if he was ever pleased, and today didn’t seem to open that gate either. Throughout the hearing, Captain Korin remained silent. He nodded now and then, and that was the only clue Anya had gotten that he was still listening. Anya thought it was a brilliant plan, but she was no Captain of tank crews; her opinion on the matter wasn’t qualified. By the time Colonel Jäger finished and turned his icy gaze to the table, Korin had settled on an opinion of his own. “Они могут с этим справиться,” he spoke while leaning against the chair, his own voice similar to Jäger’s, and yet it didn’t make Anya’s skin crawl as Jäger’s did. She quickly jumped in to turn his words into something the rest could understand. “They can handle that, sir,” she added her own little touch to it, but it passed under Korin’s nose. She then continued, keeping her head up but not meeting Jäger’s eyes. “We are to assume that throughout their challenges in these trainings, they will be accompanied by your own men? In terms of having your squadron as their targets of emulation, as they would in a true battle, which they’ll have to join once this is over. We believe this to be the most successful operation if we are to follow your suggestions.” Anya glanced Korin’s way, hearing no disapproval from him. She was buttering their slice of bread for the Germans in a certain way, but if they were to be here for a long time, as Korin had mentioned, she wanted to make the ordeal easier on their men. If she could start the process of winning certain favor from them here, there’s a greater chance of there being less tension later on. “We expect the effort to go on for about a year, circling around different platoons. New ones will arrive monthly, while old ones join our country's effort at our current war—but our Junior Lieutenant shall remain for the matter of spreading a word.” Anya smiled, almost to herself, knowing Jäger expected a Senior Officer and not a Junior. She eyed everyone at the table, ensuring the words reached not just the statue that was Colonel Jäger.

Monthly, twelve potential sets of new crew cycles throughout the whole program. Not that it couldn’t be done, assuming the crews complied. But recruits were notoriously difficult adding that he hadn’t seen them work yet as well, only going off the fact that their equal to him was a junior officer. Klaus knew full well that pedigree could’ve been achieved two ways. A true prodigy under the thumb of not enough time served yet to get him proper rank for his ability, which seemed far fetched. Or his senior officer had been disposed of already, getting rid of the true experience. Their tank program could have little to improve upon if the first was true, and potentially everything if the second was. They did come to The DDR for help after all.

Nodding, Klaus inhaled before opening his mouth again. “Of course they will be accompanied. Although those with them will only be for observation purposes during these exercises, and for safety. The last course is usually filled with wooden stand ins for enemy tanks but if you wish to challenge them I will place my own tanks as opposition. They will however, be under my direct command. Yours will still be entirely dependent upon themselves.” He spoke it ardently, as if he would not negotiate anymore on it. Thielicke threw his own voice in briefly, seeking to sand Jäger’s tone into something less aggressive. “If that is agreeable of course. At least for the purposes of these initial trials.” Passing his eye between the woman and Korin as if trying to see how they were being perceived.

Even if it seemed unnecessary. Korin, as Jäger and Thielicke had quickly identified, was a military man through and through. Jäger’s forwardness wasn’t to their detriment in making a decent impression. Men like them weren’t politicians for a reason, yet made to perform those duties sometimes albeit poorly. But he wished to keep his colleague’s ill watched tone from turning things in the first few moments of this endeavor. He sensed the woman doing the same. Though it was just that, a sense. Jäger and Korin would understand each other had they spoken the same tongue.

“I want to see their shortcomings, first.” Jäger added, p icking back up without missing a beat. “Where to improve before putting them through true training. We must identify the cracks to fill them in before strengthening the wall. Otherwise the enemy will find them first and exploit them.” Jäger rejoined the table, retaking his seat, folding his hands together atop the table. Saukel sat back in his, almost to further Jäger into keeping the lead of this meeting, but careful to keep a keen eye still on them, though what looked to be something pompous was merely just his expression. Jäger spoke again. “After these three trials every month, I expect to have a report of their baseline performances that we all can review and come to an agreement on remedying. In fact Thielicke and myself will be out there in some capacity to watch first hand. Us and I assume your junior officer Captain Korin.” If he is that hands on to miss this initial meeting Klaus could reasonably assume already he would be in the mud with them.

The air within the room seemed to have switched when Jäger rose to include his speech in the ordeal; it flowed less smoothly. As if Jäger alone had taken what was once warm and welcoming and turned it into a blade pointed at everyone, even himself, with the way he stood. But when Anya looked around herself, she found nobody else felt his. Women were typically not involved in such matters, be it military or political, for many reasons; statements of being too easily swayed with emotion are one of the main. But Yartseva knew she couldn’t be the only one feeling this way, as Jäger’s own colleague had quickly stepped in to do what she was trying to achieve—to maintain diopomantic connections. Looking at Korin and Jäger, that wasn’t a concern for them, for how important it was for their crews in the future. All Anya could do was flash the other man a smile and nod along with his words. Among them all, Thielicke seemed the least sharp and greedy, and for that, she was thankful. At the very least, there would be someone comfortable to work with here. Anya gave Thielicke’s words to Korin, who nodded with a hum to accompany his agreement. He informed her of something else, and took his attention to a wine glass being set along the table by the solider that had taken his coat and ushanka earlier. Anya still had hers on, like a shield.

“That much is true,” she agreed with Jäger’s desire to venture into what weak points their crews might have. She was only a communicator, so to her, their men were most brilliant in their work. To Korin, however, he could stick more than a few fingers through the holes the crews have in terms of working together. Being in the midst of a war made men more eager for glory than for actually fighting for their country; shiny medals and neat uniforms to show to their families were all they cared about. They needed a harsh realization of what a real battle can become, and Korin was certain Jäger and his own Junior Officer could show them this. “We expect you to be with them as much as you can. Your reputation precedes you, and you can expect most fit men for battle afterwards.” Anya’s eyes went to Korin when Jäger mentioned him upon his joining the table, quickly speaking Russian phrases. Korin once again nodded, eyes connecting with Jäger as he wanted his approval be seen, even if he wasn’t using his words. “Yes, our Officer will accompany you. Though we must warn you, he does not enjoy being on the sidelines.” Anya bit back a smile creeping on her face, the memory of her friends bringing warmth where there was none in this place.

Korin had his fingers around the neck of the wine glass, turning it around in circles on the table. He was preoccupied with thoughts, as it seemed. Anya, on the other hand, didn’t lose her reins in the meeting.

“We’ll have crews in large numbers, mostly to have them trained on the new model tanks and have them be sent out as soon as we can. The first company will arrive shortly, and we will call for another, and so on. It is a new creation; therefore, it may not be the crews at fault, and that is another matter to investigate.” Anya finished at last, hoping to have cleared up anything and add what Korin had told her before. When she glanced sideways at him, she noticed he had stopped swirling the glass. Instead, he was staring at it intently. It was then that she realized the wine had ripples, spreading out toward the edges of the glass. The ripples didn't cease, and even though she couldn't feel it, the liquid in the glass told a different story. He slowly stood up, hands on either side of the glass, squinting his eyes. Anya felt the need to do the same, but she only glanced at the Germans with her eyes, her dark ones landing on Thielicke’s lastly.

“Они здес,” Korin spoke, voice akin to rust. Anya then stood up, staring at Korin, who only nodded to the door with his head. She took her attention to their German hosts, gesturing to the door with her hand.

“Gentlemen, you’ll have the pleasure of seeing Russia’s first T-80’s at this moment; they have arrived at your gates.”

Jäger kept his eyes even with Korin's, their unspoken mutual understanding. "And I look forward to working with him, as I prefer the same." Then dropped them to watching his wine glass twist and twirl on his hand. Restless. Klaus knew it well. He like him were men who needed to keep going. He kept his eyes on it throughout the rest of the explanation through a feminine voice. The control differentials can be tackled as needed, individually for each crew if need be. Something he assumed more attuned for their own officer as Klaus hadn't had the chance to even see their new T-80s yet. Much less know the discrepancies that could occurs between the old and new models. Still, he agreed. Not bothering to let himself vocalize it as neither guess was pay attention anymore.

Both were fixed on the glass's contents. The Germans didn't need it translated. The tanks were here. Thielicke stood first, taking the charge to hustle to the door before he could be told to. His adjutant status kicking in after sharing a look with Jäger as soon as Korin had stood. Heralding the fore told arrival to them through I sipped wine. This look seemed to bypass Sauke! who, to them, was merely a figurehead. The man lingered behind them all while Thielicke opened the door. "Down the stairs and to the left, through the double doors Captain and madam." He spoke gently, holding it open for them. "The hall will take you outside."

The Germans opting to descend the stair after them together. Being given their great coats just the same the Russians were. Their men scurrying quickly around to retrieve them as they had left the meeting room much much earlier than expected. Jäger donning his quickly, the fabric held open for him to slip into, cap replaced on his head, and get out to the training field without much delay. Following closely to their Russian guests. Thielicke, again, opened the final set of doors.

Jager walking with purpose to get out and see them round the corner of the building from the motor pool.There was never a shortage of excitement for either of them when tanks were involved. So much so that Sauke! had been left completely in the dust. His own fault for not keeping up, Thielicke, prudently keeping the door open for him as well but trying to catch a glimpse from that vantage point before he could vacate his post. The field thick with the sound of rumbling clicking tracks that sounded too close. They made the ground mutter under their boots. It was a powerful feeling, knowing those tracks were there and allied with you. That simple draw of power from metal beasts that instilled man with the need to hold his head high. He watched with electric anticipation.

Their company, however, in a hurry, didn’t seem to acknowledge Hauptmann Thielicke’s efforts to tend to their needs of allowing access on all fronts. Understandably, the men in this field were more than thrilled to see the new invention from Motherland, even Thielicke himself. The only person who wasn’t engrossed in the endeavour bowed her head at each passing door to the Hauptmann, keeping up with her Captain’s heels. Captain Korin was the tallest man in their little company; his strides were harder to keep up with.

Cold air washed over them once more, and Anya welcomed it in the same manner as Korin, a welcoming scent and feel against the skin. Their coats kept them warm, as did the ushanka’s on their heads. She preened her skirt from wrinkles, standing closely beside Korin, who kept his eyes squinted on the distant horizon. Their hosts hardly registered to him, though he spared a small glance at either side of him to ensure they hadn’t left anyone behind; a natural habit of commanding. The rumbling of the ground attracted his attention, knowing that the beasts were closer now, shaking up pebbles from their places. They are able to be quiet, but it was clear somebody was making a show out of their new toys. The company of tanks numbered up to ten tanks, with one being in the lead. Just from the distance alone, their sleek bodies were obvious; the design was less bulky than their previous renditions. The head was pushed almost flat, and the tracks were shielded with a longer side-skirt. To the untrained eye, there were small differences in the design. But to somebody like Korin, they were fixes to old, tiring problems with the old designs, like the T-62 or even T-72. Unlike the T-72, the gear on top of the T-80 was superior to that of any tank in their artillery; a powerful turret that matched that of a machine gun stood on top, with many viewpoints hidden throughout the design. The lower head gave way for less attack chances; other tanks were more likely to miss the commander’s hatch and kill the crew. To Korin, it was a brilliant invention.

He raised his chin, almost as if in pride. Beside him, Anya stared in awe as the company seemed to charge straight for them. They weren’t by any means slow, either. The ice on the concrete gave way for them to move even faster than their tracks allowed, their suspension bouncing from the curves in the road. Nothing the roadwheels couldn’t handle. Anya almost wanted to take a step back, but her Captain’s standing position didn’t allow her to have any doubts. The crews would see them; they’d have to. Something must’ve turned Korin’s interest into blunt curiosity, because he uttered a simple word under his breath that made Anya squint with him against the reflecting ice. It turned out that their leading tank was, in fact, driving backwards. The barrel had been facing their company instead, but the lack of view when reversing didn’t stunt the driver at all—he seemed to be going faster while backing up. Anya could hear Korin’s sigh through his nose while his arms crossed over; Anya couldn’t help but smile, which she was fighting.

1/2

As the grumbling grew into a growl Klaus was only then taking his place beside the Russian Captain. Cementing the soles of his tall boots into the pavement. Planting himself in place. His own captain just as interested in watching, fumbling with his greatcoat collar because he refused to take his eyes away from the impending tank column. Something spoken under Korin’s breath, Klaus couldn’t hear exactly what was said with all the commotion it was clear way. To all three of them the lead tank was glaringly different.

The lead tank was backwards. It’s turret facing back where they came. It took a little bit to realize that that was truly the case. Thielicke leaning to his superior to be sure, “The first tank is reversing?” Sometimes tanks did travel with their turrets turned back. Mainly for rail transport and to keep the main gun in tact during movements. The driver always seated in the chassis itself. A fixed position as opposed to the revolving one Klaus was so familiar with.

“Seems so.” Klaus answered. Feeling his captains face contort into being hesitantly impressed. ever letting his eyes slip from it. But he looked on, they both did. Silent judgement of the lead tank kept their eyes only followed on it alone. The rest of the column utterly forgotten about. They seemed less daring, military in the truest fashion. A parade red square would be proud of.

Then it finally streaked past them, past Klaus. The tank much lower than his own leopards. The Soviet fingerprint of rounded armor that had persisted long after the Second World War well in use here. A clear family tree. Though its tracks looked familiar. He turned his head without relinquishing his eyes from the odd tank Klaus asked Korin over the sound of it. “Your junior officer…I presume?” Knowing before he ever even got an answer from Yartseva that it was true.

The communications Officer silenced herself in favor of having Major Oberst speak, not daring to interrupt him when the tank’s engines already made it difficult to hear him. She wished the rumbling could silence him a little; his cut-edged tone shrivelled up her soul. Jäger seemed more keen on having a chat with their Captain than anyone else here. They didn’t need to know each other’s language to get along; that much was certain. Jäger and Korin stood on respectable ground, something that might not be achieved with the rest of the soldiers.

“Yes,” Korin nodded, seemingly the only word he knew within German. Anya stepped in to fill their Junior Lieutenant with everything, mostly whispering names of their party. Nikolay had tilted his head her way to listen to her, although he stood a little way in the distance. Korin’s words snapped him back to attention, however.

“Ивушки, убери их. Мы потом поговорим.” Koirn gestured his head to the German Commanders to his side, and Nikolay nodded with understanding, clicking his heels and returning to his tank. He didn’t get inside his beauty, though, but only walked her way. The lead tank backed up from its advances. He extended his arm, guiding the way to the entrance of the motor pool. The lead tank turned its tracks and smoothly entered the facility. Behind it, the rest of the column narrowed to a single file and joined their companion inside. Nikolay didn’t abandon his position until the last tank rolled inside and positioned itself along with the company, none of the crews getting out without Nikolay’s say. Ivushkin chose not to grant them the word and returned to his Captain, omitting a salute this time since he had already performed it. Korin had a limit on how much he could tolerate such formalities.

“Поскольку вы пропустили встречу, Аня проинформирует вас обо всем подробнее.” Captain Korin informed, with a hint of displeasure within his tone, that Nikolay caught quickly. He squinted his eyes at the taller man, but remained silent, only a crude nod indicating he heard what was said. Korin permitted Yartseva to do her job once more, and she moved to stand beside Nikolay, if only with a little distance. With the tanks aside, their speeches weren’t muffled. Her eyes were mostly on Generalmajor, as he was the main head within the program from the German side.

“This is our Junior Lieutenant Ivushkin, he will be handling matters from our side, along with your two Officers. Ивушки, Генерал-майор Заукель, полковник-майор Егер и, наконец, гауптман Тилике. Ваши коллеги.” Ivushkin’s eyes scanned each of their faces, giving them a salute as it was a formality for the higher rank. The fact that he held the lowest rank among them did not diminish his sense of dignity; his presence radiated self-reliance. He extended a hand to the Generalmajor, wearing a simple smile. Knowing that his words wouldn't be understood, he chose to convey a gesture that every man should recognize as a sign of companionship.

Klaus merely watched him corral those mechanical beasts as easily as just giving them simple hand signals. Finally the man for whom he had caught a few clandestine smile at the mention of was before him. Prim in military bearing and proper in column commanding. Though not much else was to gained from him at the moment. Saukel practically invited himself over, inserting himself between Korin and Ivushkin once he heard his name. A general major’s prerogative he supposed, specifically this General Major’s. Jäger himself staying planted while being introduced, only second in command, but still outranking his Russian equal. He saluted back as per tradition.

, the same, then turned his attention back to the tanks and the poking heads from the various ports curiously surfacing to watch the big wigs get acquainted. Some only helmets poking from under the drab olive metal and others full torsos leaned out to peak at them. No doubt, he thought, they were already idly gossiping amongst those in their tank. An audience. Rolling on the balls of his feet and turning back to listen to their Warrant Officer translate for their new colleague.

When he then broke off to Shake Saukel’s hand the General Major spoke. “Welcome to East Germany, we look forward to getting this program underway.” Her voice underpinning in the pauses. Their hands parted, and his pulled his back resuming the stiff upright pose all the Germans seemed to sport. So much so one would think it was just their uniform as to blame. Too much starch in the fabric making them stand as if wooden boards. Despite how verbally animated Saukel continued to be.

“You are aware of the preliminary trials we wish to hold first, Colonel Jäger can conduct things from here. Although I’m sure he is eager to see the new Russian tanks for himself and go over everything you. Do you need your Warrent Officer?” There had been slight mention in the files he was given prior that Ivushkin may have a good enough grasp on German to survive without her secondary voice. Though while it came up now he hadn’t thought it’d be as important when he read it. “I plan to take your Captain to his quarters then to our observation tower to watch and admittedly we do not have another translator on staff today.”

Once Ivushkin’s hand was released, he stepped back only one step, mostly to create distance. Anya stood beside him, hands interlocked in front of her, while Ivushkin kept about a formal stature, with both arms at his sides. When the Generalmajor began to speak, Nikolay caught onto the words, inverting them into Russian within his head. He wasn’t fluent with the slang by any means, and often made mistakes, but everything he knew came from his mother; in her younger years, she traversed many countries, the most being East Germany. Not to mention, he had classes with the language since he was a boy. Unfortunately, not many of his current crew studied the language as he did, the only one being Lykov, his gunner. Throughout the exchange, Ivushkin’s face remained as marble, not a single change aside from his eyes blinking at times. It wasn’t until Anya began to translate for him when Ivushkin moved, raising his finger to silence her, his head turned slightly her way with eyebrows that nearly met in the middle, his eyes downcast. She understood the meaning and nodded, trying to conceal her small smile with a head bow. Ivushkin then properly positioned himself with arms behind his back, mirroring their stiff stance. “I understand. No, I do not need her. Take her,” he jerked his head her way in a tilt, then straghetened and moved his eyes to the Colonel and the Captain. Not a word came out of his lips after that. Captain Korin, seeing that being the end of the exchange, dismissed Ivushkin with a hand wave, letting Anya come closer to him so she could translate Saukel’s little conversation. Ivushkin nodded his leave, and locked his eyes with Jäger’s while turning around to walk into the motor pool, expecting the Colonel to follow without the word—and his Captain, if he were to bring him. Inside the motor pool, the tanks lined themselves up at either side, some of them going into garages designed for the tanks. His own tank didn’t do so, and instead, he could see his driver spinning her around the area, switching between tracks as if testing to what point they’d break. The gunner must’ve seen them approach, for the tank came to an imedieete stop and lowered the turret to their level. Where shame should’ve been for the stunt, sat pride. It didn’t cross over Ivushkin’s impassive features, but he approached the tank with his chin up. Some of the heads that peeked out of their hatches from other tanks eyed the Colonel, as if curious. “Similar to T-72, only improved.” Ivushkin began, voice as thick as molasses, deeper than most lakes. He was gliding his hand on the skirt of the tank. The turret followed him, as if it could see him with her long tube. “There’s an auto-relouder in there. Fitted for three men,” thick Russian coated his German, making each word heavier than normally. When he finished circling around her, he leaned onto one of her track guards, crossing his arms and legs at the ankle, watching Jäger while the turret lowered—the gunner had full view of the Colonel. “Your Generalmajor mentioned plans. Plans of yours, what are they?” A flash of a curl on his lip corners, and it was gone. “Pardon for the miss, I’m sure it was grand.”

@co1one1jgr

Germany’s East wasn’t all that much to take in. Of course, the Country had its unique sights, as any Country—it simply wasn’t attractive to the eyes of someone who had seen many lands and their towns. The stores that were set up ran well, and the flashing blurs of the passersby spoke of a thriving city. Despite the political strain on Germany, the people kept on working, they kept on living. Slowly, the views of civil life began to dwindle, and more and more boots hummed the earth with their marching, foreign tongue reaching Korin’s ears, who leaned his head slightly to look out the car’s window. Soldiers marched alongside the vehicle for a time, until the car passed by them too. They held themselves high, the German soul clearly strong within them. Korin’s eyes followed them whenever they appeared in his view, watching as they’d pass the street just before the car ran by, or turn their heads to see the importance of such arrival. Korin leaned back against the seat, crossing his arms against his chest. Besides him, shuffling attracted his attention, eyes skimming the figure that sat there. She was a fair lady, a uniform similar to Korin's if only feminine, as per code. Where her hands folded on her lap, her skirt reached to her knees, but where Korin had pants, she had leggings for the cold weather. He had a coat around his shoulders, while she wore hers. They both adorned ushankas on their head, her hair done in a neat bun just below the seam of the hat. She didn’t keep her head down, but she was mindful to keep her gaze ahead and not at the man beside her. Korin took his eyes off her and swore he heard her breathe easier in gratitude. Once the brakes squealed against the slippery road, Korin didn’t wait until a German soldier opened the door for him. He still greeted the younger man with a crude nod, but adjusted his coat upon his shoulders and walked on, boots unafraid to slip on the ice that had sand thrown over it. Anya joined suit, following a little behind but remaining close nonetheless. With their party, there was supposed to be another, but due to a terribly good reason, Korin lacked the man who was the head of it all. The base was a large one, but that made finding the main quarters of the Generalmajor fairly simple, especially with the Soviets’ communicator, Anya, who asked all the questions that Korin did, just in a different language. Even when the warmth of the building hit his burnt face, he didn’t relax into it. He simply shrugged his coat into the hands of a German solider who he didn’t bother looking at the rank of, and stepped forward, allowing Anya to present them. “Captain Korin,” she announced smoothly, Korin taking his cap off respectfully and handing it to be hung on the coat hanger. He turned to the audience of their business, awaiting an invite to be seated.

A stout man with grey hair and gold shoulder boards stiffly met them just after the door had closed. The short flurry of grey uniformed men dispersed with their hats and coats to be held safely in an unseen room. “Welcome, our friends from Moscow. Generalmajor Saukel.” He boomed across the floor to them. Extending a hand before he stood across from them. His wide frog like mouth upturned to a grin though his features told that that was not usually the case. “Come, we’ll be meeting in another room.” Showing them the hall opening.

Up a carpeted set of incredibly wide steps. The kind that would’ve been useful for gatherings when the Kaiser still held power for great military gatherings. Now only held the socialist jackboots that stepped ruts into the thin drab carpet. The room Saukel spoke of being found at the top of these steps. The room they were lead into was warm with wood paneling, broad and empty for the most part aside from the accommodating meeting table that sat at its center. Open but stifling, complete with cigarette smoke still hanging int he air despite the clean ashtrays on the table. The walls given sparsely placed and tiny, for the wall space, framed photos of the national leaders in order of importance. Flags of both countries stood draped upright on their staffs at either end of huge windows overlooking a sprawling tracked field further painted in grey fog.

Two upside down officer caps beside their matching Germans who stood along the table edge speaking to one another, turning at the sound. “Our panzer officers, Colonel Jäger.” Saukel introduced first, holding his hand out, palm up in his direction. The more slight of the two, yet he held an imposing presence. His blue eyes sharp on their guests. His relatively relaxed position leaning against the table replaced with a more soldierly one, his hands finding each other behind his back. His chin going up as if the collar of his uniform held a pin that’d stick him if he relaxed. “I’m sure you’re well aware of his credentials and experience. He will be heading our end of all of this.” Then he shifted to the other man. “Captain Thielicke, equally as capable though everything operational will go through myself and Jäger.” Thielicke giving a subtle bow in greeting. Neither speaking yet or moving to be as accommodating as Saukel forced himself to be.

“Please. Sit.” Their host beckoned them all. More than enough empty seats for them all. Walter spoke one more time, after taking his own seat beside Jäger. Folding his hands atop the table. “I was told there was one more to be with you, where is he?”

People often mention that first impressions are crucial to understanding a character before them, and although Korin wasn’t ever one for the best ones, the man before him had left something. From his demeanor to the language he employed, he could easily identify a sycophant. Korin reached his hand in greeting, shaking it firmly and releasing, listening to Anya translate the Generalmajor’s words to something he’d understand. He nodded along, remaining with a sealed jaw unlike their German host, who could most likely make the walls rattle with the voice he gave. When the Generalmajor began walking, the two Russian Officers followed suit, Korin glancing at his side to Anya, spotting the young lady glancing all around the hall with her eyes alone. He made it out to be curiosity, which was common for those who didn’t travel much. From what he gathered, this operation would mark her first venture outside of domestic matters. He didn’t fix her gaze with his own, only kept his on the host.

Anyone who could say the insides of such a facility aren’t grand would have their tongues cut out for lying. It wasn’t the largest room Korin had ever been in, but it stood out from most. The flags waved gently in what little wind there was inside the space, and the table spoke of many figures, yet there were only five that Korin could count. The two German Officers stood out from the bleak darkness of the room; they stood at equal height, though one of them was broader in physique. Korin didn’t pay too much mind to either, and instead followed the Generalmajor further into the room. He couldn’t say the same about his communicator Officer, who had to shuffle quickly to keep up behind him, eyes distracted by the two Germans. He uttered something soon under his breath, his voice coming scratchy and rough, but it came out smooth and gentle through hers. “Pleasure to meet the grand Officers,” Anya repeated, “Captain Korin, tanker.” Korin hummed at the words, listening to Saukel’s words in his own tongue. He nodded to Anya, moving to the table when they were invited. As she was translating to him, Korin pulled out the chair from under the table so she could sit. Only then did he seat himself. Now that he had the time, he looked over at the man who was supposed to be the head of it all, along with Saukel. He stood much like a stick within dirt, firm and stern. The medals shining on his uniform jacket spoke of hard-earned battles and many wounds that littered the insides of that shiny uniform. The man beside him—Thielicke—lacked the amount that Jäger had, yet stood just as respectfully. Unlike any of them, Korin adorned disfiguring scarring across his face and even his hands, molten flesh that sizzeled together to form dents like rivers across his cheekbones and the side of his head. He was aware of it all without a mirror, and so decided to spare them from the sight; he didn’t look too hard at the young Officers. Anya perked at the question, leaning toward Korin while speaking. Korin glanced from Saukel to her, gesturing with her hand that she had the floor for conversation; she knew as much as he did, after all. She turned her attention to their German comrades, folding her hands on her lap while crossing her ankles below the table. “He will be arriving shortly, he decided not to come with our party. Currently, he’s ensuring that our tanks arrive safely at your borders. He should arrive once we are done.” She skimmed the room for any disapproval, then looked back down at the table, though her eyes at times met the two Officers at either side of the Generalmajor, a light smile on her face to offer her friendliness. She then continued, “We appreciate the effort East is providing our armies with. This aid won’t go unnoticed by us. However, we only seek to settle a few matters; the program will see itself filmed for our countrymen to join the effort in the war. This will mean the same for your side of things, sir. Captain Korin would command our platoon. I am merely here to pass your word to him.” She glanced at Korin for any hint of him desiring to speak, but he remained quiet. “That being said, this program will involve training our men for true combat. The man who was supposed accompany him today is from the front; he does not need the aid. But the platoon does, we will be introducing our newest models to them, hoping to turn the war in our favor. This would include testing the models to their limit, a feat surely not difficult for your Lepords.” Anya smiled once more their way, allowing the information to process. Korin stayed silent, his arms folded on the table while he leaned on them, eyes trained on the Generalmajor.

The Generalmajor’s smug aura only grew more so. As if this woman was paying him compliments specifically. Quietly basking in the future plans of grander he had yet to live. He spoke quickly after she had finished, “And we are immensely honored you’ve thought of our tank program so highly as bring your men here to be trained.” He had to readjust himself in his chair to let the praise sit better upon his shoulders. “Jäger is our premier panzer officer and guaranteed to whip them into shape.”

While his senior officer spoke, Jäger’s mind was working. Doubt already working its way into the forefront of his mind. As he had his doubts. Namely that if the man who was still yet to be met with so much experience why hadn’t he trained their men. He thought it an overstep, that the Russians and their concentration of power in Moscow had made them feel as if they could step over into another country and make a mess there instead of their huge Siberian backyard. He was not going to play nice, and it was showing as much upon his face. Discerning, precise, and unyielding.

He then took the floor in the pause Saukel left. “We have worked out a timeline for this training based on the information you’ve previously provided us and what you’d like to get out of this partnership. And once your senior officer arrives there should be no reason not to immediately begin.” Jäger left his chair and casually made his way to the big window overseeing the training field, turned back to them placing his hands behind his back again, a professor about to begin his lesson. “Firstly, we wish to quantify a baseline of where they lay in their current abilities and the limits of the tanks. They will be made to navigate three different courses. The first testing the agility and mechanical abilities of the tanks along with the skills of the crew to work together in navigation.” He circled the general position of the course with his fingers standing on end just above the glass surface to a preset, open, marked course lay out like a racetrack. To then point at the vast sandy openness that cut the field down the middle. “Next is a general fire range. I wish to see how competent the crews are in identifying and properly sighting their targets without distractions at different distances.”

Lastly he stepped to the farthest side of the window from where he started. A heavily wooded area that was pushed towards the back of the field. Arguably looking as if the property ended at its wood line though this was the exact place he was referring to. “Finally, the third. It will be treated as if a real engagement. The crews are to navigate our wooded course, the same we put our Leopards through, and eliminate the planted targets throughout it while utilizing the tank and their environment to its fullest ability. The crews will rely entirely on themselves to get through. This will allow us to identifying short comings and problem areas within the crews and tanks themselves.” Finished he turned back to them, the invisible pin unneeded to keep his chin up.

The communication Officer spared Saukel one last smile before turning her attention to the Senior Officer, Jäger. He wasn’t a welcoming sight to look upon, and when he spoke, it was akin to dragging a dull knife against a brick wall; coarse and rough, his voice spoke of constant use. Anya’s eyes followed his figure when he rose, and although she was aware he wasn’t much taller than her, his mere presence felt higher than the world itself. Jäager understood how to present himself in a way that prevented others from underestimating him. It took her a few moments before she began translating his speech to Korin, turning her head away from him and moreso to Korin, giving him her ear equally to Jäger, making sure her voice was quieter than Jäager’s. Her eyes were staring at Korin’s lap, fingers interlocking to keep herself busy while listening to the Senior Officer. Korin, on the other hand, pressed the pad of his thumb against his chin while the other arm was relaxed on the table, clearly listening to the young man’s plan for his soldiers. With Korin, it was difficult to say if he was ever pleased, and today didn’t seem to open that gate either. Throughout the hearing, Captain Korin remained silent. He nodded now and then, and that was the only clue Anya had gotten that he was still listening. Anya thought it was a brilliant plan, but she was no Captain of tank crews; her opinion on the matter wasn’t qualified. By the time Colonel Jäger finished and turned his icy gaze to the table, Korin had settled on an opinion of his own. “Они могут с этим справиться,” he spoke while leaning against the chair, his own voice similar to Jäger’s, and yet it didn’t make Anya’s skin crawl as Jäger’s did. She quickly jumped in to turn his words into something the rest could understand. “They can handle that, sir,” she added her own little touch to it, but it passed under Korin’s nose. She then continued, keeping her head up but not meeting Jäger’s eyes. “We are to assume that throughout their challenges in these trainings, they will be accompanied by your own men? In terms of having your squadron as their targets of emulation, as they would in a true battle, which they’ll have to join once this is over. We believe this to be the most successful operation if we are to follow your suggestions.” Anya glanced Korin’s way, hearing no disapproval from him. She was buttering their slice of bread for the Germans in a certain way, but if they were to be here for a long time, as Korin had mentioned, she wanted to make the ordeal easier on their men. If she could start the process of winning certain favor from them here, there’s a greater chance of there being less tension later on. “We expect the effort to go on for about a year, circling around different platoons. New ones will arrive monthly, while old ones join our country's effort at our current war—but our Junior Lieutenant shall remain for the matter of spreading a word.” Anya smiled, almost to herself, knowing Jäger expected a Senior Officer and not a Junior. She eyed everyone at the table, ensuring the words reached not just the statue that was Colonel Jäger.

Monthly, twelve potential sets of new crew cycles throughout the whole program. Not that it couldn’t be done, assuming the crews complied. But recruits were notoriously difficult adding that he hadn’t seen them work yet as well, only going off the fact that their equal to him was a junior officer. Klaus knew full well that pedigree could’ve been achieved two ways. A true prodigy under the thumb of not enough time served yet to get him proper rank for his ability, which seemed far fetched. Or his senior officer had been disposed of already, getting rid of the true experience. Their tank program could have little to improve upon if the first was true, and potentially everything if the second was. They did come to The DDR for help after all.

Nodding, Klaus inhaled before opening his mouth again. “Of course they will be accompanied. Although those with them will only be for observation purposes during these exercises, and for safety. The last course is usually filled with wooden stand ins for enemy tanks but if you wish to challenge them I will place my own tanks as opposition. They will however, be under my direct command. Yours will still be entirely dependent upon themselves.” He spoke it ardently, as if he would not negotiate anymore on it. Thielicke threw his own voice in briefly, seeking to sand Jäger’s tone into something less aggressive. “If that is agreeable of course. At least for the purposes of these initial trials.” Passing his eye between the woman and Korin as if trying to see how they were being perceived.

Even if it seemed unnecessary. Korin, as Jäger and Thielicke had quickly identified, was a military man through and through. Jäger’s forwardness wasn’t to their detriment in making a decent impression. Men like them weren’t politicians for a reason, yet made to perform those duties sometimes albeit poorly. But he wished to keep his colleague’s ill watched tone from turning things in the first few moments of this endeavor. He sensed the woman doing the same. Though it was just that, a sense. Jäger and Korin would understand each other had they spoken the same tongue.

“I want to see their shortcomings, first.” Jäger added, p icking back up without missing a beat. “Where to improve before putting them through true training. We must identify the cracks to fill them in before strengthening the wall. Otherwise the enemy will find them first and exploit them.” Jäger rejoined the table, retaking his seat, folding his hands together atop the table. Saukel sat back in his, almost to further Jäger into keeping the lead of this meeting, but careful to keep a keen eye still on them, though what looked to be something pompous was merely just his expression. Jäger spoke again. “After these three trials every month, I expect to have a report of their baseline performances that we all can review and come to an agreement on remedying. In fact Thielicke and myself will be out there in some capacity to watch first hand. Us and I assume your junior officer Captain Korin.” If he is that hands on to miss this initial meeting Klaus could reasonably assume already he would be in the mud with them.

The air within the room seemed to have switched when Jäger rose to include his speech in the ordeal; it flowed less smoothly. As if Jäger alone had taken what was once warm and welcoming and turned it into a blade pointed at everyone, even himself, with the way he stood. But when Anya looked around herself, she found nobody else felt his. Women were typically not involved in such matters, be it military or political, for many reasons; statements of being too easily swayed with emotion are one of the main. But Yartseva knew she couldn’t be the only one feeling this way, as Jäger’s own colleague had quickly stepped in to do what she was trying to achieve—to maintain diopomantic connections. Looking at Korin and Jäger, that wasn’t a concern for them, for how important it was for their crews in the future. All Anya could do was flash the other man a smile and nod along with his words. Among them all, Thielicke seemed the least sharp and greedy, and for that, she was thankful. At the very least, there would be someone comfortable to work with here. Anya gave Thielicke’s words to Korin, who nodded with a hum to accompany his agreement. He informed her of something else, and took his attention to a wine glass being set along the table by the solider that had taken his coat and ushanka earlier. Anya still had hers on, like a shield.

“That much is true,” she agreed with Jäger’s desire to venture into what weak points their crews might have. She was only a communicator, so to her, their men were most brilliant in their work. To Korin, however, he could stick more than a few fingers through the holes the crews have in terms of working together. Being in the midst of a war made men more eager for glory than for actually fighting for their country; shiny medals and neat uniforms to show to their families were all they cared about. They needed a harsh realization of what a real battle can become, and Korin was certain Jäger and his own Junior Officer could show them this. “We expect you to be with them as much as you can. Your reputation precedes you, and you can expect most fit men for battle afterwards.” Anya’s eyes went to Korin when Jäger mentioned him upon his joining the table, quickly speaking Russian phrases. Korin once again nodded, eyes connecting with Jäger as he wanted his approval be seen, even if he wasn’t using his words. “Yes, our Officer will accompany you. Though we must warn you, he does not enjoy being on the sidelines.” Anya bit back a smile creeping on her face, the memory of her friends bringing warmth where there was none in this place.

Korin had his fingers around the neck of the wine glass, turning it around in circles on the table. He was preoccupied with thoughts, as it seemed. Anya, on the other hand, didn’t lose her reins in the meeting.

“We’ll have crews in large numbers, mostly to have them trained on the new model tanks and have them be sent out as soon as we can. The first company will arrive shortly, and we will call for another, and so on. It is a new creation; therefore, it may not be the crews at fault, and that is another matter to investigate.” Anya finished at last, hoping to have cleared up anything and add what Korin had told her before. When she glanced sideways at him, she noticed he had stopped swirling the glass. Instead, he was staring at it intently. It was then that she realized the wine had ripples, spreading out toward the edges of the glass. The ripples didn't cease, and even though she couldn't feel it, the liquid in the glass told a different story. He slowly stood up, hands on either side of the glass, squinting his eyes. Anya felt the need to do the same, but she only glanced at the Germans with her eyes, her dark ones landing on Thielicke’s lastly.

“Они здес,” Korin spoke, voice akin to rust. Anya then stood up, staring at Korin, who only nodded to the door with his head. She took her attention to their German hosts, gesturing to the door with her hand.

“Gentlemen, you’ll have the pleasure of seeing Russia’s first T-80’s at this moment; they have arrived at your gates.”

Jäger kept his eyes even with Korin's, their unspoken mutual understanding. "And I look forward to working with him, as I prefer the same." Then dropped them to watching his wine glass twist and twirl on his hand. Restless. Klaus knew it well. He like him were men who needed to keep going. He kept his eyes on it throughout the rest of the explanation through a feminine voice. The control differentials can be tackled as needed, individually for each crew if need be. Something he assumed more attuned for their own officer as Klaus hadn't had the chance to even see their new T-80s yet. Much less know the discrepancies that could occurs between the old and new models. Still, he agreed. Not bothering to let himself vocalize it as neither guess was pay attention anymore.

Both were fixed on the glass's contents. The Germans didn't need it translated. The tanks were here. Thielicke stood first, taking the charge to hustle to the door before he could be told to. His adjutant status kicking in after sharing a look with Jäger as soon as Korin had stood. Heralding the fore told arrival to them through I sipped wine. This look seemed to bypass Sauke! who, to them, was merely a figurehead. The man lingered behind them all while Thielicke opened the door. "Down the stairs and to the left, through the double doors Captain and madam." He spoke gently, holding it open for them. "The hall will take you outside."

The Germans opting to descend the stair after them together. Being given their great coats just the same the Russians were. Their men scurrying quickly around to retrieve them as they had left the meeting room much much earlier than expected. Jäger donning his quickly, the fabric held open for him to slip into, cap replaced on his head, and get out to the training field without much delay. Following closely to their Russian guests. Thielicke, again, opened the final set of doors.

Jager walking with purpose to get out and see them round the corner of the building from the motor pool.There was never a shortage of excitement for either of them when tanks were involved. So much so that Sauke! had been left completely in the dust. His own fault for not keeping up, Thielicke, prudently keeping the door open for him as well but trying to catch a glimpse from that vantage point before he could vacate his post. The field thick with the sound of rumbling clicking tracks that sounded too close. They made the ground mutter under their boots. It was a powerful feeling, knowing those tracks were there and allied with you. That simple draw of power from metal beasts that instilled man with the need to hold his head high. He watched with electric anticipation.

Their company, however, in a hurry, didn’t seem to acknowledge Hauptmann Thielicke’s efforts to tend to their needs of allowing access on all fronts. Understandably, the men in this field were more than thrilled to see the new invention from Motherland, even Thielicke himself. The only person who wasn’t engrossed in the endeavour bowed her head at each passing door to the Hauptmann, keeping up with her Captain’s heels. Captain Korin was the tallest man in their little company; his strides were harder to keep up with.

Cold air washed over them once more, and Anya welcomed it in the same manner as Korin, a welcoming scent and feel against the skin. Their coats kept them warm, as did the ushanka’s on their heads. She preened her skirt from wrinkles, standing closely beside Korin, who kept his eyes squinted on the distant horizon. Their hosts hardly registered to him, though he spared a small glance at either side of him to ensure they hadn’t left anyone behind; a natural habit of commanding. The rumbling of the ground attracted his attention, knowing that the beasts were closer now, shaking up pebbles from their places. They are able to be quiet, but it was clear somebody was making a show out of their new toys. The company of tanks numbered up to ten tanks, with one being in the lead. Just from the distance alone, their sleek bodies were obvious; the design was less bulky than their previous renditions. The head was pushed almost flat, and the tracks were shielded with a longer side-skirt. To the untrained eye, there were small differences in the design. But to somebody like Korin, they were fixes to old, tiring problems with the old designs, like the T-62 or even T-72. Unlike the T-72, the gear on top of the T-80 was superior to that of any tank in their artillery; a powerful turret that matched that of a machine gun stood on top, with many viewpoints hidden throughout the design. The lower head gave way for less attack chances; other tanks were more likely to miss the commander’s hatch and kill the crew. To Korin, it was a brilliant invention.

He raised his chin, almost as if in pride. Beside him, Anya stared in awe as the company seemed to charge straight for them. They weren’t by any means slow, either. The ice on the concrete gave way for them to move even faster than their tracks allowed, their suspension bouncing from the curves in the road. Nothing the roadwheels couldn’t handle. Anya almost wanted to take a step back, but her Captain’s standing position didn’t allow her to have any doubts. The crews would see them; they’d have to. Something must’ve turned Korin’s interest into blunt curiosity, because he uttered a simple word under his breath that made Anya squint with him against the reflecting ice. It turned out that their leading tank was, in fact, driving backwards. The barrel had been facing their company instead, but the lack of view when reversing didn’t stunt the driver at all—he seemed to be going faster while backing up. Anya could hear Korin’s sigh through his nose while his arms crossed over; Anya couldn’t help but smile, which she was fighting.

1/2

As the grumbling grew into a growl Klaus was only then taking his place beside the Russian Captain. Cementing the soles of his tall boots into the pavement. Planting himself in place. His own captain just as interested in watching, fumbling with his greatcoat collar because he refused to take his eyes away from the impending tank column. Something spoken under Korin’s breath, Klaus couldn’t hear exactly what was said with all the commotion it was clear way. To all three of them the lead tank was glaringly different.

The lead tank was backwards. It’s turret facing back where they came. It took a little bit to realize that that was truly the case. Thielicke leaning to his superior to be sure, “The first tank is reversing?” Sometimes tanks did travel with their turrets turned back. Mainly for rail transport and to keep the main gun in tact during movements. The driver always seated in the chassis itself. A fixed position as opposed to the revolving one Klaus was so familiar with.

“Seems so.” Klaus answered. Feeling his captains face contort into being hesitantly impressed. ever letting his eyes slip from it. But he looked on, they both did. Silent judgement of the lead tank kept their eyes only followed on it alone. The rest of the column utterly forgotten about. They seemed less daring, military in the truest fashion. A parade red square would be proud of.

Then it finally streaked past them, past Klaus. The tank much lower than his own leopards. The Soviet fingerprint of rounded armor that had persisted long after the Second World War well in use here. A clear family tree. Though its tracks looked familiar. He turned his head without relinquishing his eyes from the odd tank Klaus asked Korin over the sound of it. “Your junior officer…I presume?” Knowing before he ever even got an answer from Yartseva that it was true.

The communications Officer silenced herself in favor of having Major Oberst speak, not daring to interrupt him when the tank’s engines already made it difficult to hear him. She wished the rumbling could silence him a little; his cut-edged tone shrivelled up her soul. Jäger seemed more keen on having a chat with their Captain than anyone else here. They didn’t need to know each other’s language to get along; that much was certain. Jäger and Korin stood on respectable ground, something that might not be achieved with the rest of the soldiers.

“Yes,” Korin nodded, seemingly the only word he knew within German. Anya stepped in to fill their Junior Lieutenant with everything, mostly whispering names of their party. Nikolay had tilted his head her way to listen to her, although he stood a little way in the distance. Korin’s words snapped him back to attention, however.

“Ивушки, убери их. Мы потом поговорим.” Koirn gestured his head to the German Commanders to his side, and Nikolay nodded with understanding, clicking his heels and returning to his tank. He didn’t get inside his beauty, though, but only walked her way. The lead tank backed up from its advances. He extended his arm, guiding the way to the entrance of the motor pool. The lead tank turned its tracks and smoothly entered the facility. Behind it, the rest of the column narrowed to a single file and joined their companion inside. Nikolay didn’t abandon his position until the last tank rolled inside and positioned itself along with the company, none of the crews getting out without Nikolay’s say. Ivushkin chose not to grant them the word and returned to his Captain, omitting a salute this time since he had already performed it. Korin had a limit on how much he could tolerate such formalities.

“Поскольку вы пропустили встречу, Аня проинформирует вас обо всем подробнее.” Captain Korin informed, with a hint of displeasure within his tone, that Nikolay caught quickly. He squinted his eyes at the taller man, but remained silent, only a crude nod indicating he heard what was said. Korin permitted Yartseva to do her job once more, and she moved to stand beside Nikolay, if only with a little distance. With the tanks aside, their speeches weren’t muffled. Her eyes were mostly on Generalmajor, as he was the main head within the program from the German side.

“This is our Junior Lieutenant Ivushkin, he will be handling matters from our side, along with your two Officers. Ивушки, Генерал-майор Заукель, полковник-майор Егер и, наконец, гауптман Тилике. Ваши коллеги.” Ivushkin’s eyes scanned each of their faces, giving them a salute as it was a formality for the higher rank. The fact that he held the lowest rank among them did not diminish his sense of dignity; his presence radiated self-reliance. He extended a hand to the Generalmajor, wearing a simple smile. Knowing that his words wouldn't be understood, he chose to convey a gesture that every man should recognize as a sign of companionship.

@co1one1jgr

Germany’s East wasn’t all that much to take in. Of course, the Country had its unique sights, as any Country—it simply wasn’t attractive to the eyes of someone who had seen many lands and their towns. The stores that were set up ran well, and the flashing blurs of the passersby spoke of a thriving city. Despite the political strain on Germany, the people kept on working, they kept on living. Slowly, the views of civil life began to dwindle, and more and more boots hummed the earth with their marching, foreign tongue reaching Korin’s ears, who leaned his head slightly to look out the car’s window. Soldiers marched alongside the vehicle for a time, until the car passed by them too. They held themselves high, the German soul clearly strong within them. Korin’s eyes followed them whenever they appeared in his view, watching as they’d pass the street just before the car ran by, or turn their heads to see the importance of such arrival. Korin leaned back against the seat, crossing his arms against his chest. Besides him, shuffling attracted his attention, eyes skimming the figure that sat there. She was a fair lady, a uniform similar to Korin's if only feminine, as per code. Where her hands folded on her lap, her skirt reached to her knees, but where Korin had pants, she had leggings for the cold weather. He had a coat around his shoulders, while she wore hers. They both adorned ushankas on their head, her hair done in a neat bun just below the seam of the hat. She didn’t keep her head down, but she was mindful to keep her gaze ahead and not at the man beside her. Korin took his eyes off her and swore he heard her breathe easier in gratitude. Once the brakes squealed against the slippery road, Korin didn’t wait until a German soldier opened the door for him. He still greeted the younger man with a crude nod, but adjusted his coat upon his shoulders and walked on, boots unafraid to slip on the ice that had sand thrown over it. Anya joined suit, following a little behind but remaining close nonetheless. With their party, there was supposed to be another, but due to a terribly good reason, Korin lacked the man who was the head of it all. The base was a large one, but that made finding the main quarters of the Generalmajor fairly simple, especially with the Soviets’ communicator, Anya, who asked all the questions that Korin did, just in a different language. Even when the warmth of the building hit his burnt face, he didn’t relax into it. He simply shrugged his coat into the hands of a German solider who he didn’t bother looking at the rank of, and stepped forward, allowing Anya to present them. “Captain Korin,” she announced smoothly, Korin taking his cap off respectfully and handing it to be hung on the coat hanger. He turned to the audience of their business, awaiting an invite to be seated.

A stout man with grey hair and gold shoulder boards stiffly met them just after the door had closed. The short flurry of grey uniformed men dispersed with their hats and coats to be held safely in an unseen room. “Welcome, our friends from Moscow. Generalmajor Saukel.” He boomed across the floor to them. Extending a hand before he stood across from them. His wide frog like mouth upturned to a grin though his features told that that was not usually the case. “Come, we’ll be meeting in another room.” Showing them the hall opening.

Up a carpeted set of incredibly wide steps. The kind that would’ve been useful for gatherings when the Kaiser still held power for great military gatherings. Now only held the socialist jackboots that stepped ruts into the thin drab carpet. The room Saukel spoke of being found at the top of these steps. The room they were lead into was warm with wood paneling, broad and empty for the most part aside from the accommodating meeting table that sat at its center. Open but stifling, complete with cigarette smoke still hanging int he air despite the clean ashtrays on the table. The walls given sparsely placed and tiny, for the wall space, framed photos of the national leaders in order of importance. Flags of both countries stood draped upright on their staffs at either end of huge windows overlooking a sprawling tracked field further painted in grey fog.

Two upside down officer caps beside their matching Germans who stood along the table edge speaking to one another, turning at the sound. “Our panzer officers, Colonel Jäger.” Saukel introduced first, holding his hand out, palm up in his direction. The more slight of the two, yet he held an imposing presence. His blue eyes sharp on their guests. His relatively relaxed position leaning against the table replaced with a more soldierly one, his hands finding each other behind his back. His chin going up as if the collar of his uniform held a pin that’d stick him if he relaxed. “I’m sure you’re well aware of his credentials and experience. He will be heading our end of all of this.” Then he shifted to the other man. “Captain Thielicke, equally as capable though everything operational will go through myself and Jäger.” Thielicke giving a subtle bow in greeting. Neither speaking yet or moving to be as accommodating as Saukel forced himself to be.

“Please. Sit.” Their host beckoned them all. More than enough empty seats for them all. Walter spoke one more time, after taking his own seat beside Jäger. Folding his hands atop the table. “I was told there was one more to be with you, where is he?”

People often mention that first impressions are crucial to understanding a character before them, and although Korin wasn’t ever one for the best ones, the man before him had left something. From his demeanor to the language he employed, he could easily identify a sycophant. Korin reached his hand in greeting, shaking it firmly and releasing, listening to Anya translate the Generalmajor’s words to something he’d understand. He nodded along, remaining with a sealed jaw unlike their German host, who could most likely make the walls rattle with the voice he gave. When the Generalmajor began walking, the two Russian Officers followed suit, Korin glancing at his side to Anya, spotting the young lady glancing all around the hall with her eyes alone. He made it out to be curiosity, which was common for those who didn’t travel much. From what he gathered, this operation would mark her first venture outside of domestic matters. He didn’t fix her gaze with his own, only kept his on the host.

Anyone who could say the insides of such a facility aren’t grand would have their tongues cut out for lying. It wasn’t the largest room Korin had ever been in, but it stood out from most. The flags waved gently in what little wind there was inside the space, and the table spoke of many figures, yet there were only five that Korin could count. The two German Officers stood out from the bleak darkness of the room; they stood at equal height, though one of them was broader in physique. Korin didn’t pay too much mind to either, and instead followed the Generalmajor further into the room. He couldn’t say the same about his communicator Officer, who had to shuffle quickly to keep up behind him, eyes distracted by the two Germans. He uttered something soon under his breath, his voice coming scratchy and rough, but it came out smooth and gentle through hers. “Pleasure to meet the grand Officers,” Anya repeated, “Captain Korin, tanker.” Korin hummed at the words, listening to Saukel’s words in his own tongue. He nodded to Anya, moving to the table when they were invited. As she was translating to him, Korin pulled out the chair from under the table so she could sit. Only then did he seat himself. Now that he had the time, he looked over at the man who was supposed to be the head of it all, along with Saukel. He stood much like a stick within dirt, firm and stern. The medals shining on his uniform jacket spoke of hard-earned battles and many wounds that littered the insides of that shiny uniform. The man beside him—Thielicke—lacked the amount that Jäger had, yet stood just as respectfully. Unlike any of them, Korin adorned disfiguring scarring across his face and even his hands, molten flesh that sizzeled together to form dents like rivers across his cheekbones and the side of his head. He was aware of it all without a mirror, and so decided to spare them from the sight; he didn’t look too hard at the young Officers. Anya perked at the question, leaning toward Korin while speaking. Korin glanced from Saukel to her, gesturing with her hand that she had the floor for conversation; she knew as much as he did, after all. She turned her attention to their German comrades, folding her hands on her lap while crossing her ankles below the table. “He will be arriving shortly, he decided not to come with our party. Currently, he’s ensuring that our tanks arrive safely at your borders. He should arrive once we are done.” She skimmed the room for any disapproval, then looked back down at the table, though her eyes at times met the two Officers at either side of the Generalmajor, a light smile on her face to offer her friendliness. She then continued, “We appreciate the effort East is providing our armies with. This aid won’t go unnoticed by us. However, we only seek to settle a few matters; the program will see itself filmed for our countrymen to join the effort in the war. This will mean the same for your side of things, sir. Captain Korin would command our platoon. I am merely here to pass your word to him.” She glanced at Korin for any hint of him desiring to speak, but he remained quiet. “That being said, this program will involve training our men for true combat. The man who was supposed accompany him today is from the front; he does not need the aid. But the platoon does, we will be introducing our newest models to them, hoping to turn the war in our favor. This would include testing the models to their limit, a feat surely not difficult for your Lepords.” Anya smiled once more their way, allowing the information to process. Korin stayed silent, his arms folded on the table while he leaned on them, eyes trained on the Generalmajor.

The Generalmajor’s smug aura only grew more so. As if this woman was paying him compliments specifically. Quietly basking in the future plans of grander he had yet to live. He spoke quickly after she had finished, “And we are immensely honored you’ve thought of our tank program so highly as bring your men here to be trained.” He had to readjust himself in his chair to let the praise sit better upon his shoulders. “Jäger is our premier panzer officer and guaranteed to whip them into shape.”

While his senior officer spoke, Jäger’s mind was working. Doubt already working its way into the forefront of his mind. As he had his doubts. Namely that if the man who was still yet to be met with so much experience why hadn’t he trained their men. He thought it an overstep, that the Russians and their concentration of power in Moscow had made them feel as if they could step over into another country and make a mess there instead of their huge Siberian backyard. He was not going to play nice, and it was showing as much upon his face. Discerning, precise, and unyielding.

He then took the floor in the pause Saukel left. “We have worked out a timeline for this training based on the information you’ve previously provided us and what you’d like to get out of this partnership. And once your senior officer arrives there should be no reason not to immediately begin.” Jäger left his chair and casually made his way to the big window overseeing the training field, turned back to them placing his hands behind his back again, a professor about to begin his lesson. “Firstly, we wish to quantify a baseline of where they lay in their current abilities and the limits of the tanks. They will be made to navigate three different courses. The first testing the agility and mechanical abilities of the tanks along with the skills of the crew to work together in navigation.” He circled the general position of the course with his fingers standing on end just above the glass surface to a preset, open, marked course lay out like a racetrack. To then point at the vast sandy openness that cut the field down the middle. “Next is a general fire range. I wish to see how competent the crews are in identifying and properly sighting their targets without distractions at different distances.”

Lastly he stepped to the farthest side of the window from where he started. A heavily wooded area that was pushed towards the back of the field. Arguably looking as if the property ended at its wood line though this was the exact place he was referring to. “Finally, the third. It will be treated as if a real engagement. The crews are to navigate our wooded course, the same we put our Leopards through, and eliminate the planted targets throughout it while utilizing the tank and their environment to its fullest ability. The crews will rely entirely on themselves to get through. This will allow us to identifying short comings and problem areas within the crews and tanks themselves.” Finished he turned back to them, the invisible pin unneeded to keep his chin up.

The communication Officer spared Saukel one last smile before turning her attention to the Senior Officer, Jäger. He wasn’t a welcoming sight to look upon, and when he spoke, it was akin to dragging a dull knife against a brick wall; coarse and rough, his voice spoke of constant use. Anya’s eyes followed his figure when he rose, and although she was aware he wasn’t much taller than her, his mere presence felt higher than the world itself. Jäager understood how to present himself in a way that prevented others from underestimating him. It took her a few moments before she began translating his speech to Korin, turning her head away from him and moreso to Korin, giving him her ear equally to Jäger, making sure her voice was quieter than Jäager’s. Her eyes were staring at Korin’s lap, fingers interlocking to keep herself busy while listening to the Senior Officer. Korin, on the other hand, pressed the pad of his thumb against his chin while the other arm was relaxed on the table, clearly listening to the young man’s plan for his soldiers. With Korin, it was difficult to say if he was ever pleased, and today didn’t seem to open that gate either. Throughout the hearing, Captain Korin remained silent. He nodded now and then, and that was the only clue Anya had gotten that he was still listening. Anya thought it was a brilliant plan, but she was no Captain of tank crews; her opinion on the matter wasn’t qualified. By the time Colonel Jäger finished and turned his icy gaze to the table, Korin had settled on an opinion of his own. “Они могут с этим справиться,” he spoke while leaning against the chair, his own voice similar to Jäger’s, and yet it didn’t make Anya’s skin crawl as Jäger’s did. She quickly jumped in to turn his words into something the rest could understand. “They can handle that, sir,” she added her own little touch to it, but it passed under Korin’s nose. She then continued, keeping her head up but not meeting Jäger’s eyes. “We are to assume that throughout their challenges in these trainings, they will be accompanied by your own men? In terms of having your squadron as their targets of emulation, as they would in a true battle, which they’ll have to join once this is over. We believe this to be the most successful operation if we are to follow your suggestions.” Anya glanced Korin’s way, hearing no disapproval from him. She was buttering their slice of bread for the Germans in a certain way, but if they were to be here for a long time, as Korin had mentioned, she wanted to make the ordeal easier on their men. If she could start the process of winning certain favor from them here, there’s a greater chance of there being less tension later on. “We expect the effort to go on for about a year, circling around different platoons. New ones will arrive monthly, while old ones join our country's effort at our current war—but our Junior Lieutenant shall remain for the matter of spreading a word.” Anya smiled, almost to herself, knowing Jäger expected a Senior Officer and not a Junior. She eyed everyone at the table, ensuring the words reached not just the statue that was Colonel Jäger.

Monthly, twelve potential sets of new crew cycles throughout the whole program. Not that it couldn’t be done, assuming the crews complied. But recruits were notoriously difficult adding that he hadn’t seen them work yet as well, only going off the fact that their equal to him was a junior officer. Klaus knew full well that pedigree could’ve been achieved two ways. A true prodigy under the thumb of not enough time served yet to get him proper rank for his ability, which seemed far fetched. Or his senior officer had been disposed of already, getting rid of the true experience. Their tank program could have little to improve upon if the first was true, and potentially everything if the second was. They did come to The DDR for help after all.

Nodding, Klaus inhaled before opening his mouth again. “Of course they will be accompanied. Although those with them will only be for observation purposes during these exercises, and for safety. The last course is usually filled with wooden stand ins for enemy tanks but if you wish to challenge them I will place my own tanks as opposition. They will however, be under my direct command. Yours will still be entirely dependent upon themselves.” He spoke it ardently, as if he would not negotiate anymore on it. Thielicke threw his own voice in briefly, seeking to sand Jäger’s tone into something less aggressive. “If that is agreeable of course. At least for the purposes of these initial trials.” Passing his eye between the woman and Korin as if trying to see how they were being perceived.

Even if it seemed unnecessary. Korin, as Jäger and Thielicke had quickly identified, was a military man through and through. Jäger’s forwardness wasn’t to their detriment in making a decent impression. Men like them weren’t politicians for a reason, yet made to perform those duties sometimes albeit poorly. But he wished to keep his colleague’s ill watched tone from turning things in the first few moments of this endeavor. He sensed the woman doing the same. Though it was just that, a sense. Jäger and Korin would understand each other had they spoken the same tongue.

“I want to see their shortcomings, first.” Jäger added, p icking back up without missing a beat. “Where to improve before putting them through true training. We must identify the cracks to fill them in before strengthening the wall. Otherwise the enemy will find them first and exploit them.” Jäger rejoined the table, retaking his seat, folding his hands together atop the table. Saukel sat back in his, almost to further Jäger into keeping the lead of this meeting, but careful to keep a keen eye still on them, though what looked to be something pompous was merely just his expression. Jäger spoke again. “After these three trials every month, I expect to have a report of their baseline performances that we all can review and come to an agreement on remedying. In fact Thielicke and myself will be out there in some capacity to watch first hand. Us and I assume your junior officer Captain Korin.” If he is that hands on to miss this initial meeting Klaus could reasonably assume already he would be in the mud with them.

The air within the room seemed to have switched when Jäger rose to include his speech in the ordeal; it flowed less smoothly. As if Jäger alone had taken what was once warm and welcoming and turned it into a blade pointed at everyone, even himself, with the way he stood. But when Anya looked around herself, she found nobody else felt his. Women were typically not involved in such matters, be it military or political, for many reasons; statements of being too easily swayed with emotion are one of the main. But Yartseva knew she couldn’t be the only one feeling this way, as Jäger’s own colleague had quickly stepped in to do what she was trying to achieve—to maintain diopomantic connections. Looking at Korin and Jäger, that wasn’t a concern for them, for how important it was for their crews in the future. All Anya could do was flash the other man a smile and nod along with his words. Among them all, Thielicke seemed the least sharp and greedy, and for that, she was thankful. At the very least, there would be someone comfortable to work with here. Anya gave Thielicke’s words to Korin, who nodded with a hum to accompany his agreement. He informed her of something else, and took his attention to a wine glass being set along the table by the solider that had taken his coat and ushanka earlier. Anya still had hers on, like a shield.

“That much is true,” she agreed with Jäger’s desire to venture into what weak points their crews might have. She was only a communicator, so to her, their men were most brilliant in their work. To Korin, however, he could stick more than a few fingers through the holes the crews have in terms of working together. Being in the midst of a war made men more eager for glory than for actually fighting for their country; shiny medals and neat uniforms to show to their families were all they cared about. They needed a harsh realization of what a real battle can become, and Korin was certain Jäger and his own Junior Officer could show them this. “We expect you to be with them as much as you can. Your reputation precedes you, and you can expect most fit men for battle afterwards.” Anya’s eyes went to Korin when Jäger mentioned him upon his joining the table, quickly speaking Russian phrases. Korin once again nodded, eyes connecting with Jäger as he wanted his approval be seen, even if he wasn’t using his words. “Yes, our Officer will accompany you. Though we must warn you, he does not enjoy being on the sidelines.” Anya bit back a smile creeping on her face, the memory of her friends bringing warmth where there was none in this place.

Korin had his fingers around the neck of the wine glass, turning it around in circles on the table. He was preoccupied with thoughts, as it seemed. Anya, on the other hand, didn’t lose her reins in the meeting.

“We’ll have crews in large numbers, mostly to have them trained on the new model tanks and have them be sent out as soon as we can. The first company will arrive shortly, and we will call for another, and so on. It is a new creation; therefore, it may not be the crews at fault, and that is another matter to investigate.” Anya finished at last, hoping to have cleared up anything and add what Korin had told her before. When she glanced sideways at him, she noticed he had stopped swirling the glass. Instead, he was staring at it intently. It was then that she realized the wine had ripples, spreading out toward the edges of the glass. The ripples didn't cease, and even though she couldn't feel it, the liquid in the glass told a different story. He slowly stood up, hands on either side of the glass, squinting his eyes. Anya felt the need to do the same, but she only glanced at the Germans with her eyes, her dark ones landing on Thielicke’s lastly.

“Они здес,” Korin spoke, voice akin to rust. Anya then stood up, staring at Korin, who only nodded to the door with his head. She took her attention to their German hosts, gesturing to the door with her hand.

“Gentlemen, you’ll have the pleasure of seeing Russia’s first T-80’s at this moment; they have arrived at your gates.”

Jäger kept his eyes even with Korin's, their unspoken mutual understanding. "And I look forward to working with him, as I prefer the same." Then dropped them to watching his wine glass twist and twirl on his hand. Restless. Klaus knew it well. He like him were men who needed to keep going. He kept his eyes on it throughout the rest of the explanation through a feminine voice. The control differentials can be tackled as needed, individually for each crew if need be. Something he assumed more attuned for their own officer as Klaus hadn't had the chance to even see their new T-80s yet. Much less know the discrepancies that could occurs between the old and new models. Still, he agreed. Not bothering to let himself vocalize it as neither guess was pay attention anymore.

Both were fixed on the glass's contents. The Germans didn't need it translated. The tanks were here. Thielicke stood first, taking the charge to hustle to the door before he could be told to. His adjutant status kicking in after sharing a look with Jäger as soon as Korin had stood. Heralding the fore told arrival to them through I sipped wine. This look seemed to bypass Sauke! who, to them, was merely a figurehead. The man lingered behind them all while Thielicke opened the door. "Down the stairs and to the left, through the double doors Captain and madam." He spoke gently, holding it open for them. "The hall will take you outside."

The Germans opting to descend the stair after them together. Being given their great coats just the same the Russians were. Their men scurrying quickly around to retrieve them as they had left the meeting room much much earlier than expected. Jäger donning his quickly, the fabric held open for him to slip into, cap replaced on his head, and get out to the training field without much delay. Following closely to their Russian guests. Thielicke, again, opened the final set of doors.

Jager walking with purpose to get out and see them round the corner of the building from the motor pool.There was never a shortage of excitement for either of them when tanks were involved. So much so that Sauke! had been left completely in the dust. His own fault for not keeping up, Thielicke, prudently keeping the door open for him as well but trying to catch a glimpse from that vantage point before he could vacate his post. The field thick with the sound of rumbling clicking tracks that sounded too close. They made the ground mutter under their boots. It was a powerful feeling, knowing those tracks were there and allied with you. That simple draw of power from metal beasts that instilled man with the need to hold his head high. He watched with electric anticipation.

Their company, however, in a hurry, didn’t seem to acknowledge Hauptmann Thielicke’s efforts to tend to their needs of allowing access on all fronts. Understandably, the men in this field were more than thrilled to see the new invention from Motherland, even Thielicke himself. The only person who wasn’t engrossed in the endeavour bowed her head at each passing door to the Hauptmann, keeping up with her Captain’s heels. Captain Korin was the tallest man in their little company; his strides were harder to keep up with. Cold air washed over them once more, and Anya welcomed it in the same manner as Korin, a welcoming scent and feel against the skin. Their coats kept them warm, as did the ushanka’s on their heads. She preened her skirt from wrinkles, standing closely beside Korin, who kept his eyes squinted on the distant horizon. Their hosts hardly registered to him, though he spared a small glance at either side of him to ensure they hadn’t left anyone behind; a natural habit of commanding. The rumbling of the ground attracted his attention, knowing that the beasts were closer now, shaking up pebbles from their places. They are able to be quiet, but it was clear somebody was making a show out of their new toys. The company of tanks numbered up to ten tanks, with one being in the lead. Just from the distance alone, their sleek bodies were obvious; the design was less bulky than their previous renditions. The head was pushed almost flat, and the tracks were shielded with a longer side-skirt. To the untrained eye, there were small differences in the design. But to somebody like Korin, they were fixes to old, tiring problems with the old designs, like the T-62 or even T-72. Unlike the T-72, the gear on top of the T-80B was superior to that of any tank in their artillery; a powerful turret that matched that of a machine gun stood on top, with many viewpoints hidden throughout the design. The lower head gave way for less attack chances; other tanks were more likely to miss the commander’s hatch and kill the crew. To Korin, it was a brilliant invention. He raised his chin, almost as if in pride. Beside him, Anya stared in awe as the company seemed to charge straight for them. They weren’t by any means slow, either. The ice on the concrete gave way for them to move even faster than their tracks allowed, their suspension bouncing from the curves in the road. Nothing the roadwheels couldn’t handle. Anya almost wanted to take a step back, but her Captain’s standing position didn’t allow her to have any doubts. The crews would see them; they’d have to. Something must’ve turned Korin’s interest into blunt curiosity, because he uttered a simple word under his breath that made Anya squint with him against the reflecting ice. It turned out that their leading tank was, in fact, driving backwards. The barrel had been facing their company instead, but the lack of view when reversing didn’t stunt the driver at all—he seemed to be going faster while backing up. Anya could hear Korin’s sigh through his nose while his arms crossed over; Anya couldn’t help but smile, which she was fighting.

1/2

When the backward T-80 made it halfway to their company, the other tanks in the company seemed to have slowed down, sensing the energy of their leader, it seemed like. Roughly, one track of the tank stopped completely, while the other pushed on full throttle—this caused the tank to go into a death spin. Whoever was driving it was pushing on the throttle so much that it’s exhausts grill began smoking, the heat from it morphing the view around it. It slid on the ice like a dance floor, the driver stopping the spinning roadwheels and putting the other pair into full force, which made it spin the other way with seemingly no movement from their position, despite the ice and slow clogging up their tracks. The smoke began covering the company’s view, along with the steam of the heated environment around them. Captain Korin lowered his head to the heat, along from the smoke, clearing his throat but not so much as struggling against the smoke. Anya, on the other hand, had to cover her nose with her palm to ease breathing.

Once everything was successfully turned into smoke, the T-80 began to turn around so its head would face the company. It was seen as a mere shadow within the clouds of their chaos, the only visible shadow outline being the barrel—which slowly lowered and located the hosts of their company, as if the viewpoints that were certainly covered up in thicker clouds of smoke were optional for seeing where they were located. The commander didn’t need to use it. The smoke settled at last, the dark muzzle of terrible void staring into the face of the German Generamajor. The cupola’s hatch opened, and a figure pulled himself up using just his hands and arms, his boot finding a perch and standing on the tank, above the rest. Unlike a usual tanker, he wore his dress uniform rather than his field one—most likely understanding he was still having to be presentable for the meeting he clearly missed. He didn’t wear a coat, however, and in place of a ushanka was a service cap. He flexed his hand and, after looking around, looked down at the company before him. Locking eyes with the Germans before he did his own Captain, he saluted him. Korin nudged his head down, and the Junior Lieutenant followed the command, walking down the track effortlessly, the same that rolled away after he was off to give him room, its barrel now lifted to the sky. The commander saluted Korin again, and Korin only gestured to him while looking at their German allies, Anya speaking after him.

“Nikolay Anatolyevich Ivushkin, Junior Lieutenant from the Afgang front.” She told, seeing Nikolay’s eyes slowly draw to the other men. His grey connected with the pale blue of Jäger’s, his arm slowly lowering. There was no change in his face; a stoic and reserved expression, he drew his eyes away like Klaus was another rock to look at.

@co1one1jgr

Germany’s East wasn’t all that much to take in. Of course, the Country had its unique sights, as any Country—it simply wasn’t attractive to the eyes of someone who had seen many lands and their towns. The stores that were set up ran well, and the flashing blurs of the passersby spoke of a thriving city. Despite the political strain on Germany, the people kept on working, they kept on living. Slowly, the views of civil life began to dwindle, and more and more boots hummed the earth with their marching, foreign tongue reaching Korin’s ears, who leaned his head slightly to look out the car’s window. Soldiers marched alongside the vehicle for a time, until the car passed by them too. They held themselves high, the German soul clearly strong within them. Korin’s eyes followed them whenever they appeared in his view, watching as they’d pass the street just before the car ran by, or turn their heads to see the importance of such arrival. Korin leaned back against the seat, crossing his arms against his chest. Besides him, shuffling attracted his attention, eyes skimming the figure that sat there. She was a fair lady, a uniform similar to Korin's if only feminine, as per code. Where her hands folded on her lap, her skirt reached to her knees, but where Korin had pants, she had leggings for the cold weather. He had a coat around his shoulders, while she wore hers. They both adorned ushankas on their head, her hair done in a neat bun just below the seam of the hat. She didn’t keep her head down, but she was mindful to keep her gaze ahead and not at the man beside her. Korin took his eyes off her and swore he heard her breathe easier in gratitude. Once the brakes squealed against the slippery road, Korin didn’t wait until a German soldier opened the door for him. He still greeted the younger man with a crude nod, but adjusted his coat upon his shoulders and walked on, boots unafraid to slip on the ice that had sand thrown over it. Anya joined suit, following a little behind but remaining close nonetheless. With their party, there was supposed to be another, but due to a terribly good reason, Korin lacked the man who was the head of it all. The base was a large one, but that made finding the main quarters of the Generalmajor fairly simple, especially with the Soviets’ communicator, Anya, who asked all the questions that Korin did, just in a different language. Even when the warmth of the building hit his burnt face, he didn’t relax into it. He simply shrugged his coat into the hands of a German solider who he didn’t bother looking at the rank of, and stepped forward, allowing Anya to present them. “Captain Korin,” she announced smoothly, Korin taking his cap off respectfully and handing it to be hung on the coat hanger. He turned to the audience of their business, awaiting an invite to be seated.

A stout man with grey hair and gold shoulder boards stiffly met them just after the door had closed. The short flurry of grey uniformed men dispersed with their hats and coats to be held safely in an unseen room. “Welcome, our friends from Moscow. Generalmajor Saukel.” He boomed across the floor to them. Extending a hand before he stood across from them. His wide frog like mouth upturned to a grin though his features told that that was not usually the case. “Come, we’ll be meeting in another room.” Showing them the hall opening.

Up a carpeted set of incredibly wide steps. The kind that would’ve been useful for gatherings when the Kaiser still held power for great military gatherings. Now only held the socialist jackboots that stepped ruts into the thin drab carpet. The room Saukel spoke of being found at the top of these steps. The room they were lead into was warm with wood paneling, broad and empty for the most part aside from the accommodating meeting table that sat at its center. Open but stifling, complete with cigarette smoke still hanging int he air despite the clean ashtrays on the table. The walls given sparsely placed and tiny, for the wall space, framed photos of the national leaders in order of importance. Flags of both countries stood draped upright on their staffs at either end of huge windows overlooking a sprawling tracked field further painted in grey fog.

Two upside down officer caps beside their matching Germans who stood along the table edge speaking to one another, turning at the sound. “Our panzer officers, Colonel Jäger.” Saukel introduced first, holding his hand out, palm up in his direction. The more slight of the two, yet he held an imposing presence. His blue eyes sharp on their guests. His relatively relaxed position leaning against the table replaced with a more soldierly one, his hands finding each other behind his back. His chin going up as if the collar of his uniform held a pin that’d stick him if he relaxed. “I’m sure you’re well aware of his credentials and experience. He will be heading our end of all of this.” Then he shifted to the other man. “Captain Thielicke, equally as capable though everything operational will go through myself and Jäger.” Thielicke giving a subtle bow in greeting. Neither speaking yet or moving to be as accommodating as Saukel forced himself to be.

“Please. Sit.” Their host beckoned them all. More than enough empty seats for them all. Walter spoke one more time, after taking his own seat beside Jäger. Folding his hands atop the table. “I was told there was one more to be with you, where is he?”

People often mention that first impressions are crucial to understanding a character before them, and although Korin wasn’t ever one for the best ones, the man before him had left something. From his demeanor to the language he employed, he could easily identify a sycophant. Korin reached his hand in greeting, shaking it firmly and releasing, listening to Anya translate the Generalmajor’s words to something he’d understand. He nodded along, remaining with a sealed jaw unlike their German host, who could most likely make the walls rattle with the voice he gave. When the Generalmajor began walking, the two Russian Officers followed suit, Korin glancing at his side to Anya, spotting the young lady glancing all around the hall with her eyes alone. He made it out to be curiosity, which was common for those who didn’t travel much. From what he gathered, this operation would mark her first venture outside of domestic matters. He didn’t fix her gaze with his own, only kept his on the host.

Anyone who could say the insides of such a facility aren’t grand would have their tongues cut out for lying. It wasn’t the largest room Korin had ever been in, but it stood out from most. The flags waved gently in what little wind there was inside the space, and the table spoke of many figures, yet there were only five that Korin could count. The two German Officers stood out from the bleak darkness of the room; they stood at equal height, though one of them was broader in physique. Korin didn’t pay too much mind to either, and instead followed the Generalmajor further into the room. He couldn’t say the same about his communicator Officer, who had to shuffle quickly to keep up behind him, eyes distracted by the two Germans. He uttered something soon under his breath, his voice coming scratchy and rough, but it came out smooth and gentle through hers. “Pleasure to meet the grand Officers,” Anya repeated, “Captain Korin, tanker.” Korin hummed at the words, listening to Saukel’s words in his own tongue. He nodded to Anya, moving to the table when they were invited. As she was translating to him, Korin pulled out the chair from under the table so she could sit. Only then did he seat himself. Now that he had the time, he looked over at the man who was supposed to be the head of it all, along with Saukel. He stood much like a stick within dirt, firm and stern. The medals shining on his uniform jacket spoke of hard-earned battles and many wounds that littered the insides of that shiny uniform. The man beside him—Thielicke—lacked the amount that Jäger had, yet stood just as respectfully. Unlike any of them, Korin adorned disfiguring scarring across his face and even his hands, molten flesh that sizzeled together to form dents like rivers across his cheekbones and the side of his head. He was aware of it all without a mirror, and so decided to spare them from the sight; he didn’t look too hard at the young Officers. Anya perked at the question, leaning toward Korin while speaking. Korin glanced from Saukel to her, gesturing with her hand that she had the floor for conversation; she knew as much as he did, after all. She turned her attention to their German comrades, folding her hands on her lap while crossing her ankles below the table. “He will be arriving shortly, he decided not to come with our party. Currently, he’s ensuring that our tanks arrive safely at your borders. He should arrive once we are done.” She skimmed the room for any disapproval, then looked back down at the table, though her eyes at times met the two Officers at either side of the Generalmajor, a light smile on her face to offer her friendliness. She then continued, “We appreciate the effort East is providing our armies with. This aid won’t go unnoticed by us. However, we only seek to settle a few matters; the program will see itself filmed for our countrymen to join the effort in the war. This will mean the same for your side of things, sir. Captain Korin would command our platoon. I am merely here to pass your word to him.” She glanced at Korin for any hint of him desiring to speak, but he remained quiet. “That being said, this program will involve training our men for true combat. The man who was supposed accompany him today is from the front; he does not need the aid. But the platoon does, we will be introducing our newest models to them, hoping to turn the war in our favor. This would include testing the models to their limit, a feat surely not difficult for your Lepords.” Anya smiled once more their way, allowing the information to process. Korin stayed silent, his arms folded on the table while he leaned on them, eyes trained on the Generalmajor.

The Generalmajor’s smug aura only grew more so. As if this woman was paying him compliments specifically. Quietly basking in the future plans of grander he had yet to live. He spoke quickly after she had finished, “And we are immensely honored you’ve thought of our tank program so highly as bring your men here to be trained.” He had to readjust himself in his chair to let the praise sit better upon his shoulders. “Jäger is our premier panzer officer and guaranteed to whip them into shape.”

While his senior officer spoke, Jäger’s mind was working. Doubt already working its way into the forefront of his mind. As he had his doubts. Namely that if the man who was still yet to be met with so much experience why hadn’t he trained their men. He thought it an overstep, that the Russians and their concentration of power in Moscow had made them feel as if they could step over into another country and make a mess there instead of their huge Siberian backyard. He was not going to play nice, and it was showing as much upon his face. Discerning, precise, and unyielding.

He then took the floor in the pause Saukel left. “We have worked out a timeline for this training based on the information you’ve previously provided us and what you’d like to get out of this partnership. And once your senior officer arrives there should be no reason not to immediately begin.” Jäger left his chair and casually made his way to the big window overseeing the training field, turned back to them placing his hands behind his back again, a professor about to begin his lesson. “Firstly, we wish to quantify a baseline of where they lay in their current abilities and the limits of the tanks. They will be made to navigate three different courses. The first testing the agility and mechanical abilities of the tanks along with the skills of the crew to work together in navigation.” He circled the general position of the course with his fingers standing on end just above the glass surface to a preset, open, marked course lay out like a racetrack. To then point at the vast sandy openness that cut the field down the middle. “Next is a general fire range. I wish to see how competent the crews are in identifying and properly sighting their targets without distractions at different distances.”

Lastly he stepped to the farthest side of the window from where he started. A heavily wooded area that was pushed towards the back of the field. Arguably looking as if the property ended at its wood line though this was the exact place he was referring to. “Finally, the third. It will be treated as if a real engagement. The crews are to navigate our wooded course, the same we put our Leopards through, and eliminate the planted targets throughout it while utilizing the tank and their environment to its fullest ability. The crews will rely entirely on themselves to get through. This will allow us to identifying short comings and problem areas within the crews and tanks themselves.” Finished he turned back to them, the invisible pin unneeded to keep his chin up.

The communication Officer spared Saukel one last smile before turning her attention to the Senior Officer, Jäger. He wasn’t a welcoming sight to look upon, and when he spoke, it was akin to dragging a dull knife against a brick wall; coarse and rough, his voice spoke of constant use. Anya’s eyes followed his figure when he rose, and although she was aware he wasn’t much taller than her, his mere presence felt higher than the world itself. Jäager understood how to present himself in a way that prevented others from underestimating him. It took her a few moments before she began translating his speech to Korin, turning her head away from him and moreso to Korin, giving him her ear equally to Jäger, making sure her voice was quieter than Jäager’s. Her eyes were staring at Korin’s lap, fingers interlocking to keep herself busy while listening to the Senior Officer. Korin, on the other hand, pressed the pad of his thumb against his chin while the other arm was relaxed on the table, clearly listening to the young man’s plan for his soldiers. With Korin, it was difficult to say if he was ever pleased, and today didn’t seem to open that gate either. Throughout the hearing, Captain Korin remained silent. He nodded now and then, and that was the only clue Anya had gotten that he was still listening. Anya thought it was a brilliant plan, but she was no Captain of tank crews; her opinion on the matter wasn’t qualified. By the time Colonel Jäger finished and turned his icy gaze to the table, Korin had settled on an opinion of his own. “Они могут с этим справиться,” he spoke while leaning against the chair, his own voice similar to Jäger’s, and yet it didn’t make Anya’s skin crawl as Jäger’s did. She quickly jumped in to turn his words into something the rest could understand. “They can handle that, sir,” she added her own little touch to it, but it passed under Korin’s nose. She then continued, keeping her head up but not meeting Jäger’s eyes. “We are to assume that throughout their challenges in these trainings, they will be accompanied by your own men? In terms of having your squadron as their targets of emulation, as they would in a true battle, which they’ll have to join once this is over. We believe this to be the most successful operation if we are to follow your suggestions.” Anya glanced Korin’s way, hearing no disapproval from him. She was buttering their slice of bread for the Germans in a certain way, but if they were to be here for a long time, as Korin had mentioned, she wanted to make the ordeal easier on their men. If she could start the process of winning certain favor from them here, there’s a greater chance of there being less tension later on. “We expect the effort to go on for about a year, circling around different platoons. New ones will arrive monthly, while old ones join our country's effort at our current war—but our Junior Lieutenant shall remain for the matter of spreading a word.” Anya smiled, almost to herself, knowing Jäger expected a Senior Officer and not a Junior. She eyed everyone at the table, ensuring the words reached not just the statue that was Colonel Jäger.

Monthly, twelve potential sets of new crew cycles throughout the whole program. Not that it couldn’t be done, assuming the crews complied. But recruits were notoriously difficult adding that he hadn’t seen them work yet as well, only going off the fact that their equal to him was a junior officer. Klaus knew full well that pedigree could’ve been achieved two ways. A true prodigy under the thumb of not enough time served yet to get him proper rank for his ability, which seemed far fetched. Or his senior officer had been disposed of already, getting rid of the true experience. Their tank program could have little to improve upon if the first was true, and potentially everything if the second was. They did come to The DDR for help after all.

Nodding, Klaus inhaled before opening his mouth again. “Of course they will be accompanied. Although those with them will only be for observation purposes during these exercises, and for safety. The last course is usually filled with wooden stand ins for enemy tanks but if you wish to challenge them I will place my own tanks as opposition. They will however, be under my direct command. Yours will still be entirely dependent upon themselves.” He spoke it ardently, as if he would not negotiate anymore on it. Thielicke threw his own voice in briefly, seeking to sand Jäger’s tone into something less aggressive. “If that is agreeable of course. At least for the purposes of these initial trials.” Passing his eye between the woman and Korin as if trying to see how they were being perceived.

Even if it seemed unnecessary. Korin, as Jäger and Thielicke had quickly identified, was a military man through and through. Jäger’s forwardness wasn’t to their detriment in making a decent impression. Men like them weren’t politicians for a reason, yet made to perform those duties sometimes albeit poorly. But he wished to keep his colleague’s ill watched tone from turning things in the first few moments of this endeavor. He sensed the woman doing the same. Though it was just that, a sense. Jäger and Korin would understand each other had they spoken the same tongue.

“I want to see their shortcomings, first.” Jäger added, p icking back up without missing a beat. “Where to improve before putting them through true training. We must identify the cracks to fill them in before strengthening the wall. Otherwise the enemy will find them first and exploit them.” Jäger rejoined the table, retaking his seat, folding his hands together atop the table. Saukel sat back in his, almost to further Jäger into keeping the lead of this meeting, but careful to keep a keen eye still on them, though what looked to be something pompous was merely just his expression. Jäger spoke again. “After these three trials every month, I expect to have a report of their baseline performances that we all can review and come to an agreement on remedying. In fact Thielicke and myself will be out there in some capacity to watch first hand. Us and I assume your junior officer Captain Korin.” If he is that hands on to miss this initial meeting Klaus could reasonably assume already he would be in the mud with them.

The air within the room seemed to have switched when Jäger rose to include his speech in the ordeal; it flowed less smoothly. As if Jäger alone had taken what was once warm and welcoming and turned it into a blade pointed at everyone, even himself, with the way he stood. But when Anya looked around herself, she found nobody else felt his. Women were typically not involved in such matters, be it military or political, for many reasons; statements of being too easily swayed with emotion are one of the main. But Yartseva knew she couldn’t be the only one feeling this way, as Jäger’s own colleague had quickly stepped in to do what she was trying to achieve—to maintain diopomantic connections. Looking at Korin and Jäger, that wasn’t a concern for them, for how important it was for their crews in the future. All Anya could do was flash the other man a smile and nod along with his words. Among them all, Thielicke seemed the least sharp and greedy, and for that, she was thankful. At the very least, there would be someone comfortable to work with here. Anya gave Thielicke’s words to Korin, who nodded with a hum to accompany his agreement. He informed her of something else, and took his attention to a wine glass being set along the table by the solider that had taken his coat and ushanka earlier. Anya still had hers on, like a shield.

“That much is true,” she agreed with Jäger’s desire to venture into what weak points their crews might have. She was only a communicator, so to her, their men were most brilliant in their work. To Korin, however, he could stick more than a few fingers through the holes the crews have in terms of working together. Being in the midst of a war made men more eager for glory than for actually fighting for their country; shiny medals and neat uniforms to show to their families were all they cared about. They needed a harsh realization of what a real battle can become, and Korin was certain Jäger and his own Junior Officer could show them this. “We expect you to be with them as much as you can. Your reputation precedes you, and you can expect most fit men for battle afterwards.” Anya’s eyes went to Korin when Jäger mentioned him upon his joining the table, quickly speaking Russian phrases. Korin once again nodded, eyes connecting with Jäger as he wanted his approval be seen, even if he wasn’t using his words. “Yes, our Officer will accompany you. Though we must warn you, he does not enjoy being on the sidelines.” Anya bit back a smile creeping on her face, the memory of her friends bringing warmth where there was none in this place.

Korin had his fingers around the neck of the wine glass, turning it around in circles on the table. He was preoccupied with thoughts, as it seemed. Anya, on the other hand, didn’t lose her reins in the meeting.

“We’ll have crews in large numbers, mostly to have them trained on the new model tanks and have them be sent out as soon as we can. The first company will arrive shortly, and we will call for another, and so on. It is a new creation; therefore, it may not be the crews at fault, and that is another matter to investigate.” Anya finished at last, hoping to have cleared up anything and add what Korin had told her before. When she glanced sideways at him, she noticed he had stopped swirling the glass. Instead, he was staring at it intently. It was then that she realized the wine had ripples, spreading out toward the edges of the glass. The ripples didn't cease, and even though she couldn't feel it, the liquid in the glass told a different story. He slowly stood up, hands on either side of the glass, squinting his eyes. Anya felt the need to do the same, but she only glanced at the Germans with her eyes, her dark ones landing on Thielicke’s lastly.

“Они здес,” Korin spoke, voice akin to rust. Anya then stood up, staring at Korin, who only nodded to the door with his head. She took her attention to their German hosts, gesturing to the door with her hand.

“Gentlemen, you’ll have the pleasure of seeing Russia’s first T-80’s at this moment; they have arrived at your gates.”

Jäger kept his eyes even with Korin's, their unspoken mutual understanding. "And I look forward to working with him, as I prefer the same." Then dropped them to watching his wine glass twist and twirl on his hand. Restless. Klaus knew it well. He like him were men who needed to keep going. He kept his eyes on it throughout the rest of the explanation through a feminine voice. The control differentials can be tackled as needed, individually for each crew if need be. Something he assumed more attuned for their own officer as Klaus hadn't had the chance to even see their new T-80s yet. Much less know the discrepancies that could occurs between the old and new models. Still, he agreed. Not bothering to let himself vocalize it as neither guess was pay attention anymore.

Both were fixed on the glass's contents. The Germans didn't need it translated. The tanks were here. Thielicke stood first, taking the charge to hustle to the door before he could be told to. His adjutant status kicking in after sharing a look with Jäger as soon as Korin had stood. Heralding the fore told arrival to them through I sipped wine. This look seemed to bypass Sauke! who, to them, was merely a figurehead. The man lingered behind them all while Thielicke opened the door. "Down the stairs and to the left, through the double doors Captain and madam." He spoke gently, holding it open for them. "The hall will take you outside."

The Germans opting to descend the stair after them together. Being given their great coats just the same the Russians were. Their men scurrying quickly around to retrieve them as they had left the meeting room much much earlier than expected. Jäger donning his quickly, the fabric held open for him to slip into, cap replaced on his head, and get out to the training field without much delay. Following closely to their Russian guests. Thielicke, again, opened the final set of doors.

Jager walking with purpose to get out and see them round the corner of the building from the motor pool.There was never a shortage of excitement for either of them when tanks were involved. So much so that Sauke! had been left completely in the dust. His own fault for not keeping up, Thielicke, prudently keeping the door open for him as well but trying to catch a glimpse from that vantage point before he could vacate his post. The field thick with the sound of rumbling clicking tracks that sounded too close. They made the ground mutter under their boots. It was a powerful feeling, knowing those tracks were there and allied with you. That simple draw of power from metal beasts that instilled man with the need to hold his head high. He watched with electric anticipation.

Their company, however, in a hurry, didn’t seem to acknowledge Hauptmann Thielicke’s efforts to tend to their needs of allowing access on all fronts. Understandably, the men in this field were more than thrilled to see the new invention from Motherland, even Thielicke himself. The only person who wasn’t engrossed in the endeavour bowed her head at each passing door to the Hauptmann, keeping up with her Captain’s heels. Captain Korin was the tallest man in their little company; his strides were harder to keep up with.

Cold air washed over them once more, and Anya welcomed it in the same manner as Korin, a welcoming scent and feel against the skin. Their coats kept them warm, as did the ushanka’s on their heads. She preened her skirt from wrinkles, standing closely beside Korin, who kept his eyes squinted on the distant horizon. Their hosts hardly registered to him, though he spared a small glance at either side of him to ensure they hadn’t left anyone behind; a natural habit of commanding. The rumbling of the ground attracted his attention, knowing that the beasts were closer now, shaking up pebbles from their places. They are able to be quiet, but it was clear somebody was making a show out of their new toys. The company of tanks numbered up to ten tanks, with one being in the lead. Just from the distance alone, their sleek bodies were obvious; the design was less bulky than their previous renditions. The head was pushed almost flat, and the tracks were shielded with a longer side-skirt. To the untrained eye, there were small differences in the design. But to somebody like Korin, they were fixes to old, tiring problems with the old designs, like the T-62 or even T-72. Unlike the T-72, the gear on top of the T-80 was superior to that of any tank in their artillery; a powerful turret that matched that of a machine gun stood on top, with many viewpoints hidden throughout the design. The lower head gave way for less attack chances; other tanks were more likely to miss the commander’s hatch and kill the crew. To Korin, it was a brilliant invention.

He raised his chin, almost as if in pride. Beside him, Anya stared in awe as the company seemed to charge straight for them. They weren’t by any means slow, either. The ice on the concrete gave way for them to move even faster than their tracks allowed, their suspension bouncing from the curves in the road. Nothing the roadwheels couldn’t handle. Anya almost wanted to take a step back, but her Captain’s standing position didn’t allow her to have any doubts. The crews would see them; they’d have to. Something must’ve turned Korin’s interest into blunt curiosity, because he uttered a simple word under his breath that made Anya squint with him against the reflecting ice. It turned out that their leading tank was, in fact, driving backwards. The barrel had been facing their company instead, but the lack of view when reversing didn’t stunt the driver at all—he seemed to be going faster while backing up. Anya could hear Korin’s sigh through his nose while his arms crossed over; Anya couldn’t help but smile, which she was fighting.

1/2

@co1one1jgr

Germany’s East wasn’t all that much to take in. Of course, the Country had its unique sights, as any Country—it simply wasn’t attractive to the eyes of someone who had seen many lands and their towns. The stores that were set up ran well, and the flashing blurs of the passersby spoke of a thriving city. Despite the political strain on Germany, the people kept on working, they kept on living. Slowly, the views of civil life began to dwindle, and more and more boots hummed the earth with their marching, foreign tongue reaching Korin’s ears, who leaned his head slightly to look out the car’s window. Soldiers marched alongside the vehicle for a time, until the car passed by them too. They held themselves high, the German soul clearly strong within them. Korin’s eyes followed them whenever they appeared in his view, watching as they’d pass the street just before the car ran by, or turn their heads to see the importance of such arrival. Korin leaned back against the seat, crossing his arms against his chest. Besides him, shuffling attracted his attention, eyes skimming the figure that sat there. She was a fair lady, a uniform similar to Korin's if only feminine, as per code. Where her hands folded on her lap, her skirt reached to her knees, but where Korin had pants, she had leggings for the cold weather. He had a coat around his shoulders, while she wore hers. They both adorned ushankas on their head, her hair done in a neat bun just below the seam of the hat. She didn’t keep her head down, but she was mindful to keep her gaze ahead and not at the man beside her. Korin took his eyes off her and swore he heard her breathe easier in gratitude. Once the brakes squealed against the slippery road, Korin didn’t wait until a German soldier opened the door for him. He still greeted the younger man with a crude nod, but adjusted his coat upon his shoulders and walked on, boots unafraid to slip on the ice that had sand thrown over it. Anya joined suit, following a little behind but remaining close nonetheless. With their party, there was supposed to be another, but due to a terribly good reason, Korin lacked the man who was the head of it all. The base was a large one, but that made finding the main quarters of the Generalmajor fairly simple, especially with the Soviets’ communicator, Anya, who asked all the questions that Korin did, just in a different language. Even when the warmth of the building hit his burnt face, he didn’t relax into it. He simply shrugged his coat into the hands of a German solider who he didn’t bother looking at the rank of, and stepped forward, allowing Anya to present them. “Captain Korin,” she announced smoothly, Korin taking his cap off respectfully and handing it to be hung on the coat hanger. He turned to the audience of their business, awaiting an invite to be seated.

A stout man with grey hair and gold shoulder boards stiffly met them just after the door had closed. The short flurry of grey uniformed men dispersed with their hats and coats to be held safely in an unseen room. “Welcome, our friends from Moscow. Generalmajor Saukel.” He boomed across the floor to them. Extending a hand before he stood across from them. His wide frog like mouth upturned to a grin though his features told that that was not usually the case. “Come, we’ll be meeting in another room.” Showing them the hall opening.

Up a carpeted set of incredibly wide steps. The kind that would’ve been useful for gatherings when the Kaiser still held power for great military gatherings. Now only held the socialist jackboots that stepped ruts into the thin drab carpet. The room Saukel spoke of being found at the top of these steps. The room they were lead into was warm with wood paneling, broad and empty for the most part aside from the accommodating meeting table that sat at its center. Open but stifling, complete with cigarette smoke still hanging int he air despite the clean ashtrays on the table. The walls given sparsely placed and tiny, for the wall space, framed photos of the national leaders in order of importance. Flags of both countries stood draped upright on their staffs at either end of huge windows overlooking a sprawling tracked field further painted in grey fog.

Two upside down officer caps beside their matching Germans who stood along the table edge speaking to one another, turning at the sound. “Our panzer officers, Colonel Jäger.” Saukel introduced first, holding his hand out, palm up in his direction. The more slight of the two, yet he held an imposing presence. His blue eyes sharp on their guests. His relatively relaxed position leaning against the table replaced with a more soldierly one, his hands finding each other behind his back. His chin going up as if the collar of his uniform held a pin that’d stick him if he relaxed. “I’m sure you’re well aware of his credentials and experience. He will be heading our end of all of this.” Then he shifted to the other man. “Captain Thielicke, equally as capable though everything operational will go through myself and Jäger.” Thielicke giving a subtle bow in greeting. Neither speaking yet or moving to be as accommodating as Saukel forced himself to be.

“Please. Sit.” Their host beckoned them all. More than enough empty seats for them all. Walter spoke one more time, after taking his own seat beside Jäger. Folding his hands atop the table. “I was told there was one more to be with you, where is he?”

People often mention that first impressions are crucial to understanding a character before them, and although Korin wasn’t ever one for the best ones, the man before him had left something. From his demeanor to the language he employed, he could easily identify a sycophant. Korin reached his hand in greeting, shaking it firmly and releasing, listening to Anya translate the Generalmajor’s words to something he’d understand. He nodded along, remaining with a sealed jaw unlike their German host, who could most likely make the walls rattle with the voice he gave. When the Generalmajor began walking, the two Russian Officers followed suit, Korin glancing at his side to Anya, spotting the young lady glancing all around the hall with her eyes alone. He made it out to be curiosity, which was common for those who didn’t travel much. From what he gathered, this operation would mark her first venture outside of domestic matters. He didn’t fix her gaze with his own, only kept his on the host.

Anyone who could say the insides of such a facility aren’t grand would have their tongues cut out for lying. It wasn’t the largest room Korin had ever been in, but it stood out from most. The flags waved gently in what little wind there was inside the space, and the table spoke of many figures, yet there were only five that Korin could count. The two German Officers stood out from the bleak darkness of the room; they stood at equal height, though one of them was broader in physique. Korin didn’t pay too much mind to either, and instead followed the Generalmajor further into the room. He couldn’t say the same about his communicator Officer, who had to shuffle quickly to keep up behind him, eyes distracted by the two Germans. He uttered something soon under his breath, his voice coming scratchy and rough, but it came out smooth and gentle through hers. “Pleasure to meet the grand Officers,” Anya repeated, “Captain Korin, tanker.” Korin hummed at the words, listening to Saukel’s words in his own tongue. He nodded to Anya, moving to the table when they were invited. As she was translating to him, Korin pulled out the chair from under the table so she could sit. Only then did he seat himself. Now that he had the time, he looked over at the man who was supposed to be the head of it all, along with Saukel. He stood much like a stick within dirt, firm and stern. The medals shining on his uniform jacket spoke of hard-earned battles and many wounds that littered the insides of that shiny uniform. The man beside him—Thielicke—lacked the amount that Jäger had, yet stood just as respectfully. Unlike any of them, Korin adorned disfiguring scarring across his face and even his hands, molten flesh that sizzeled together to form dents like rivers across his cheekbones and the side of his head. He was aware of it all without a mirror, and so decided to spare them from the sight; he didn’t look too hard at the young Officers. Anya perked at the question, leaning toward Korin while speaking. Korin glanced from Saukel to her, gesturing with her hand that she had the floor for conversation; she knew as much as he did, after all. She turned her attention to their German comrades, folding her hands on her lap while crossing her ankles below the table. “He will be arriving shortly, he decided not to come with our party. Currently, he’s ensuring that our tanks arrive safely at your borders. He should arrive once we are done.” She skimmed the room for any disapproval, then looked back down at the table, though her eyes at times met the two Officers at either side of the Generalmajor, a light smile on her face to offer her friendliness. She then continued, “We appreciate the effort East is providing our armies with. This aid won’t go unnoticed by us. However, we only seek to settle a few matters; the program will see itself filmed for our countrymen to join the effort in the war. This will mean the same for your side of things, sir. Captain Korin would command our platoon. I am merely here to pass your word to him.” She glanced at Korin for any hint of him desiring to speak, but he remained quiet. “That being said, this program will involve training our men for true combat. The man who was supposed accompany him today is from the front; he does not need the aid. But the platoon does, we will be introducing our newest models to them, hoping to turn the war in our favor. This would include testing the models to their limit, a feat surely not difficult for your Lepords.” Anya smiled once more their way, allowing the information to process. Korin stayed silent, his arms folded on the table while he leaned on them, eyes trained on the Generalmajor.

The Generalmajor’s smug aura only grew more so. As if this woman was paying him compliments specifically. Quietly basking in the future plans of grander he had yet to live. He spoke quickly after she had finished, “And we are immensely honored you’ve thought of our tank program so highly as bring your men here to be trained.” He had to readjust himself in his chair to let the praise sit better upon his shoulders. “Jäger is our premier panzer officer and guaranteed to whip them into shape.”

While his senior officer spoke, Jäger’s mind was working. Doubt already working its way into the forefront of his mind. As he had his doubts. Namely that if the man who was still yet to be met with so much experience why hadn’t he trained their men. He thought it an overstep, that the Russians and their concentration of power in Moscow had made them feel as if they could step over into another country and make a mess there instead of their huge Siberian backyard. He was not going to play nice, and it was showing as much upon his face. Discerning, precise, and unyielding.

He then took the floor in the pause Saukel left. “We have worked out a timeline for this training based on the information you’ve previously provided us and what you’d like to get out of this partnership. And once your senior officer arrives there should be no reason not to immediately begin.” Jäger left his chair and casually made his way to the big window overseeing the training field, turned back to them placing his hands behind his back again, a professor about to begin his lesson. “Firstly, we wish to quantify a baseline of where they lay in their current abilities and the limits of the tanks. They will be made to navigate three different courses. The first testing the agility and mechanical abilities of the tanks along with the skills of the crew to work together in navigation.” He circled the general position of the course with his fingers standing on end just above the glass surface to a preset, open, marked course lay out like a racetrack. To then point at the vast sandy openness that cut the field down the middle. “Next is a general fire range. I wish to see how competent the crews are in identifying and properly sighting their targets without distractions at different distances.”

Lastly he stepped to the farthest side of the window from where he started. A heavily wooded area that was pushed towards the back of the field. Arguably looking as if the property ended at its wood line though this was the exact place he was referring to. “Finally, the third. It will be treated as if a real engagement. The crews are to navigate our wooded course, the same we put our Leopards through, and eliminate the planted targets throughout it while utilizing the tank and their environment to its fullest ability. The crews will rely entirely on themselves to get through. This will allow us to identifying short comings and problem areas within the crews and tanks themselves.” Finished he turned back to them, the invisible pin unneeded to keep his chin up.

The communication Officer spared Saukel one last smile before turning her attention to the Senior Officer, Jäger. He wasn’t a welcoming sight to look upon, and when he spoke, it was akin to dragging a dull knife against a brick wall; coarse and rough, his voice spoke of constant use. Anya’s eyes followed his figure when he rose, and although she was aware he wasn’t much taller than her, his mere presence felt higher than the world itself. Jäager understood how to present himself in a way that prevented others from underestimating him. It took her a few moments before she began translating his speech to Korin, turning her head away from him and moreso to Korin, giving him her ear equally to Jäger, making sure her voice was quieter than Jäager’s. Her eyes were staring at Korin’s lap, fingers interlocking to keep herself busy while listening to the Senior Officer. Korin, on the other hand, pressed the pad of his thumb against his chin while the other arm was relaxed on the table, clearly listening to the young man’s plan for his soldiers. With Korin, it was difficult to say if he was ever pleased, and today didn’t seem to open that gate either. Throughout the hearing, Captain Korin remained silent. He nodded now and then, and that was the only clue Anya had gotten that he was still listening. Anya thought it was a brilliant plan, but she was no Captain of tank crews; her opinion on the matter wasn’t qualified. By the time Colonel Jäger finished and turned his icy gaze to the table, Korin had settled on an opinion of his own. “Они могут с этим справиться,” he spoke while leaning against the chair, his own voice similar to Jäger’s, and yet it didn’t make Anya’s skin crawl as Jäger’s did. She quickly jumped in to turn his words into something the rest could understand. “They can handle that, sir,” she added her own little touch to it, but it passed under Korin’s nose. She then continued, keeping her head up but not meeting Jäger’s eyes. “We are to assume that throughout their challenges in these trainings, they will be accompanied by your own men? In terms of having your squadron as their targets of emulation, as they would in a true battle, which they’ll have to join once this is over. We believe this to be the most successful operation if we are to follow your suggestions.” Anya glanced Korin’s way, hearing no disapproval from him. She was buttering their slice of bread for the Germans in a certain way, but if they were to be here for a long time, as Korin had mentioned, she wanted to make the ordeal easier on their men. If she could start the process of winning certain favor from them here, there’s a greater chance of there being less tension later on. “We expect the effort to go on for about a year, circling around different platoons. New ones will arrive monthly, while old ones join our country's effort at our current war—but our Junior Lieutenant shall remain for the matter of spreading a word.” Anya smiled, almost to herself, knowing Jäger expected a Senior Officer and not a Junior. She eyed everyone at the table, ensuring the words reached not just the statue that was Colonel Jäger.

Monthly, twelve potential sets of new crew cycles throughout the whole program. Not that it couldn’t be done, assuming the crews complied. But recruits were notoriously difficult adding that he hadn’t seen them work yet as well, only going off the fact that their equal to him was a junior officer. Klaus knew full well that pedigree could’ve been achieved two ways. A true prodigy under the thumb of not enough time served yet to get him proper rank for his ability, which seemed far fetched. Or his senior officer had been disposed of already, getting rid of the true experience. Their tank program could have little to improve upon if the first was true, and potentially everything if the second was. They did come to The DDR for help after all.

Nodding, Klaus inhaled before opening his mouth again. “Of course they will be accompanied. Although those with them will only be for observation purposes during these exercises, and for safety. The last course is usually filled with wooden stand ins for enemy tanks but if you wish to challenge them I will place my own tanks as opposition. They will however, be under my direct command. Yours will still be entirely dependent upon themselves.” He spoke it ardently, as if he would not negotiate anymore on it. Thielicke threw his own voice in briefly, seeking to sand Jäger’s tone into something less aggressive. “If that is agreeable of course. At least for the purposes of these initial trials.” Passing his eye between the woman and Korin as if trying to see how they were being perceived.

Even if it seemed unnecessary. Korin, as Jäger and Thielicke had quickly identified, was a military man through and through. Jäger’s forwardness wasn’t to their detriment in making a decent impression. Men like them weren’t politicians for a reason, yet made to perform those duties sometimes albeit poorly. But he wished to keep his colleague’s ill watched tone from turning things in the first few moments of this endeavor. He sensed the woman doing the same. Though it was just that, a sense. Jäger and Korin would understand each other had they spoken the same tongue.

“I want to see their shortcomings, first.” Jäger added, p icking back up without missing a beat. “Where to improve before putting them through true training. We must identify the cracks to fill them in before strengthening the wall. Otherwise the enemy will find them first and exploit them.” Jäger rejoined the table, retaking his seat, folding his hands together atop the table. Saukel sat back in his, almost to further Jäger into keeping the lead of this meeting, but careful to keep a keen eye still on them, though what looked to be something pompous was merely just his expression. Jäger spoke again. “After these three trials every month, I expect to have a report of their baseline performances that we all can review and come to an agreement on remedying. In fact Thielicke and myself will be out there in some capacity to watch first hand. Us and I assume your junior officer Captain Korin.” If he is that hands on to miss this initial meeting Klaus could reasonably assume already he would be in the mud with them.

The air within the room seemed to have switched when Jäger rose to include his speech in the ordeal; it flowed less smoothly. As if Jäger alone had taken what was once warm and welcoming and turned it into a blade pointed at everyone, even himself, with the way he stood. But when Anya looked around herself, she found nobody else felt his. Women were typically not involved in such matters, be it military or political, for many reasons; statements of being too easily swayed with emotion are one of the main. But Yartseva knew she couldn’t be the only one feeling this way, as Jäger’s own colleague had quickly stepped in to do what she was trying to achieve—to maintain diopomantic connections. Looking at Korin and Jäger, that wasn’t a concern for them, for how important it was for their crews in the future. All Anya could do was flash the other man a smile and nod along with his words. Among them all, Thielicke seemed the least sharp and greedy, and for that, she was thankful. At the very least, there would be someone comfortable to work with here. Anya gave Thielicke’s words to Korin, who nodded with a hum to accompany his agreement. He informed her of something else, and took his attention to a wine glass being set along the table by the solider that had taken his coat and ushanka earlier. Anya still had hers on, like a shield.

“That much is true,” she agreed with Jäger’s desire to venture into what weak points their crews might have. She was only a communicator, so to her, their men were most brilliant in their work. To Korin, however, he could stick more than a few fingers through the holes the crews have in terms of working together. Being in the midst of a war made men more eager for glory than for actually fighting for their country; shiny medals and neat uniforms to show to their families were all they cared about. They needed a harsh realization of what a real battle can become, and Korin was certain Jäger and his own Junior Officer could show them this. “We expect you to be with them as much as you can. Your reputation precedes you, and you can expect most fit men for battle afterwards.” Anya’s eyes went to Korin when Jäger mentioned him upon his joining the table, quickly speaking Russian phrases. Korin once again nodded, eyes connecting with Jäger as he wanted his approval be seen, even if he wasn’t using his words. “Yes, our Officer will accompany you. Though we must warn you, he does not enjoy being on the sidelines.” Anya bit back a smile creeping on her face, the memory of her friends bringing warmth where there was none in this place.

Korin had his fingers around the neck of the wine glass, turning it around in circles on the table. He was preoccupied with thoughts, as it seemed. Anya, on the other hand, didn’t lose her reins in the meeting.

“We’ll have crews in large numbers, mostly to have them trained on the new model tanks and have them be sent out as soon as we can. The first company will arrive shortly, and we will call for another, and so on. It is a new creation; therefore, it may not be the crews at fault, and that is another matter to investigate.” Anya finished at last, hoping to have cleared up anything and add what Korin had told her before. When she glanced sideways at him, she noticed he had stopped swirling the glass. Instead, he was staring at it intently. It was then that she realized the wine had ripples, spreading out toward the edges of the glass. The ripples didn't cease, and even though she couldn't feel it, the liquid in the glass told a different story. He slowly stood up, hands on either side of the glass, squinting his eyes. Anya felt the need to do the same, but she only glanced at the Germans with her eyes, her dark ones landing on Thielicke’s lastly.

“Они здес,” Korin spoke, voice akin to rust. Anya then stood up, staring at Korin, who only nodded to the door with his head. She took her attention to their German hosts, gesturing to the door with her hand.

“Gentlemen, you’ll have the pleasure of seeing Russia’s first T-80’s at this moment; they have arrived at your gates.”

@co1one1jgr

Germany’s East wasn’t all that much to take in. Of course, the Country had its unique sights, as any Country—it simply wasn’t attractive to the eyes of someone who had seen many lands and their towns. The stores that were set up ran well, and the flashing blurs of the passersby spoke of a thriving city. Despite the political strain on Germany, the people kept on working, they kept on living. Slowly, the views of civil life began to dwindle, and more and more boots hummed the earth with their marching, foreign tongue reaching Korin’s ears, who leaned his head slightly to look out the car’s window. Soldiers marched alongside the vehicle for a time, until the car passed by them too. They held themselves high, the German soul clearly strong within them. Korin’s eyes followed them whenever they appeared in his view, watching as they’d pass the street just before the car ran by, or turn their heads to see the importance of such arrival. Korin leaned back against the seat, crossing his arms against his chest. Besides him, shuffling attracted his attention, eyes skimming the figure that sat there. She was a fair lady, a uniform similar to Korin's if only feminine, as per code. Where her hands folded on her lap, her skirt reached to her knees, but where Korin had pants, she had leggings for the cold weather. He had a coat around his shoulders, while she wore hers. They both adorned ushankas on their head, her hair done in a neat bun just below the seam of the hat. She didn’t keep her head down, but she was mindful to keep her gaze ahead and not at the man beside her. Korin took his eyes off her and swore he heard her breathe easier in gratitude. Once the brakes squealed against the slippery road, Korin didn’t wait until a German soldier opened the door for him. He still greeted the younger man with a crude nod, but adjusted his coat upon his shoulders and walked on, boots unafraid to slip on the ice that had sand thrown over it. Anya joined suit, following a little behind but remaining close nonetheless. With their party, there was supposed to be another, but due to a terribly good reason, Korin lacked the man who was the head of it all. The base was a large one, but that made finding the main quarters of the Generalmajor fairly simple, especially with the Soviets’ communicator, Anya, who asked all the questions that Korin did, just in a different language. Even when the warmth of the building hit his burnt face, he didn’t relax into it. He simply shrugged his coat into the hands of a German solider who he didn’t bother looking at the rank of, and stepped forward, allowing Anya to present them. “Captain Korin,” she announced smoothly, Korin taking his cap off respectfully and handing it to be hung on the coat hanger. He turned to the audience of their business, awaiting an invite to be seated.

A stout man with grey hair and gold shoulder boards stiffly met them just after the door had closed. The short flurry of grey uniformed men dispersed with their hats and coats to be held safely in an unseen room. “Welcome, our friends from Moscow. Generalmajor Saukel.” He boomed across the floor to them. Extending a hand before he stood across from them. His wide frog like mouth upturned to a grin though his features told that that was not usually the case. “Come, we’ll be meeting in another room.” Showing them the hall opening.

Up a carpeted set of incredibly wide steps. The kind that would’ve been useful for gatherings when the Kaiser still held power for great military gatherings. Now only held the socialist jackboots that stepped ruts into the thin drab carpet. The room Saukel spoke of being found at the top of these steps. The room they were lead into was warm with wood paneling, broad and empty for the most part aside from the accommodating meeting table that sat at its center. Open but stifling, complete with cigarette smoke still hanging int he air despite the clean ashtrays on the table. The walls given sparsely placed and tiny, for the wall space, framed photos of the national leaders in order of importance. Flags of both countries stood draped upright on their staffs at either end of huge windows overlooking a sprawling tracked field further painted in grey fog.

Two upside down officer caps beside their matching Germans who stood along the table edge speaking to one another, turning at the sound. “Our panzer officers, Colonel Jäger.” Saukel introduced first, holding his hand out, palm up in his direction. The more slight of the two, yet he held an imposing presence. His blue eyes sharp on their guests. His relatively relaxed position leaning against the table replaced with a more soldierly one, his hands finding each other behind his back. His chin going up as if the collar of his uniform held a pin that’d stick him if he relaxed. “I’m sure you’re well aware of his credentials and experience. He will be heading our end of all of this.” Then he shifted to the other man. “Captain Thielicke, equally as capable though everything operational will go through myself and Jäger.” Thielicke giving a subtle bow in greeting. Neither speaking yet or moving to be as accommodating as Saukel forced himself to be.

“Please. Sit.” Their host beckoned them all. More than enough empty seats for them all. Walter spoke one more time, after taking his own seat beside Jäger. Folding his hands atop the table. “I was told there was one more to be with you, where is he?”

People often mention that first impressions are crucial to understanding a character before them, and although Korin wasn’t ever one for the best ones, the man before him had left something. From his demeanor to the language he employed, he could easily identify a sycophant. Korin reached his hand in greeting, shaking it firmly and releasing, listening to Anya translate the Generalmajor’s words to something he’d understand. He nodded along, remaining with a sealed jaw unlike their German host, who could most likely make the walls rattle with the voice he gave. When the Generalmajor began walking, the two Russian Officers followed suit, Korin glancing at his side to Anya, spotting the young lady glancing all around the hall with her eyes alone. He made it out to be curiosity, which was common for those who didn’t travel much. From what he gathered, this operation would mark her first venture outside of domestic matters. He didn’t fix her gaze with his own, only kept his on the host.

Anyone who could say the insides of such a facility aren’t grand would have their tongues cut out for lying. It wasn’t the largest room Korin had ever been in, but it stood out from most. The flags waved gently in what little wind there was inside the space, and the table spoke of many figures, yet there were only five that Korin could count. The two German Officers stood out from the bleak darkness of the room; they stood at equal height, though one of them was broader in physique. Korin didn’t pay too much mind to either, and instead followed the Generalmajor further into the room. He couldn’t say the same about his communicator Officer, who had to shuffle quickly to keep up behind him, eyes distracted by the two Germans. He uttered something soon under his breath, his voice coming scratchy and rough, but it came out smooth and gentle through hers. “Pleasure to meet the grand Officers,” Anya repeated, “Captain Korin, tanker.” Korin hummed at the words, listening to Saukel’s words in his own tongue. He nodded to Anya, moving to the table when they were invited. As she was translating to him, Korin pulled out the chair from under the table so she could sit. Only then did he seat himself. Now that he had the time, he looked over at the man who was supposed to be the head of it all, along with Saukel. He stood much like a stick within dirt, firm and stern. The medals shining on his uniform jacket spoke of hard-earned battles and many wounds that littered the insides of that shiny uniform. The man beside him—Thielicke—lacked the amount that Jäger had, yet stood just as respectfully. Unlike any of them, Korin adorned disfiguring scarring across his face and even his hands, molten flesh that sizzeled together to form dents like rivers across his cheekbones and the side of his head. He was aware of it all without a mirror, and so decided to spare them from the sight; he didn’t look too hard at the young Officers. Anya perked at the question, leaning toward Korin while speaking. Korin glanced from Saukel to her, gesturing with her hand that she had the floor for conversation; she knew as much as he did, after all. She turned her attention to their German comrades, folding her hands on her lap while crossing her ankles below the table. “He will be arriving shortly, he decided not to come with our party. Currently, he’s ensuring that our tanks arrive safely at your borders. He should arrive once we are done.” She skimmed the room for any disapproval, then looked back down at the table, though her eyes at times met the two Officers at either side of the Generalmajor, a light smile on her face to offer her friendliness. She then continued, “We appreciate the effort East is providing our armies with. This aid won’t go unnoticed by us. However, we only seek to settle a few matters; the program will see itself filmed for our countrymen to join the effort in the war. This will mean the same for your side of things, sir. Captain Korin would command our platoon. I am merely here to pass your word to him.” She glanced at Korin for any hint of him desiring to speak, but he remained quiet. “That being said, this program will involve training our men for true combat. The man who was supposed accompany him today is from the front; he does not need the aid. But the platoon does, we will be introducing our newest models to them, hoping to turn the war in our favor. This would include testing the models to their limit, a feat surely not difficult for your Lepords.” Anya smiled once more their way, allowing the information to process. Korin stayed silent, his arms folded on the table while he leaned on them, eyes trained on the Generalmajor.

The Generalmajor’s smug aura only grew more so. As if this woman was paying him compliments specifically. Quietly basking in the future plans of grander he had yet to live. He spoke quickly after she had finished, “And we are immensely honored you’ve thought of our tank program so highly as bring your men here to be trained.” He had to readjust himself in his chair to let the praise sit better upon his shoulders. “Jäger is our premier panzer officer and guaranteed to whip them into shape.”

While his senior officer spoke, Jäger’s mind was working. Doubt already working its way into the forefront of his mind. As he had his doubts. Namely that if the man who was still yet to be met with so much experience why hadn’t he trained their men. He thought it an overstep, that the Russians and their concentration of power in Moscow had made them feel as if they could step over into another country and make a mess there instead of their huge Siberian backyard. He was not going to play nice, and it was showing as much upon his face. Discerning, precise, and unyielding.

He then took the floor in the pause Saukel left. “We have worked out a timeline for this training based on the information you’ve previously provided us and what you’d like to get out of this partnership. And once your senior officer arrives there should be no reason not to immediately begin.” Jäger left his chair and casually made his way to the big window overseeing the training field, turned back to them placing his hands behind his back again, a professor about to begin his lesson. “Firstly, we wish to quantify a baseline of where they lay in their current abilities and the limits of the tanks. They will be made to navigate three different courses. The first testing the agility and mechanical abilities of the tanks along with the skills of the crew to work together in navigation.” He circled the general position of the course with his fingers standing on end just above the glass surface to a preset, open, marked course lay out like a racetrack. To then point at the vast sandy openness that cut the field down the middle. “Next is a general fire range. I wish to see how competent the crews are in identifying and properly sighting their targets without distractions at different distances.”

Lastly he stepped to the farthest side of the window from where he started. A heavily wooded area that was pushed towards the back of the field. Arguably looking as if the property ended at its wood line though this was the exact place he was referring to. “Finally, the third. It will be treated as if a real engagement. The crews are to navigate our wooded course, the same we put our Leopards through, and eliminate the planted targets throughout it while utilizing the tank and their environment to its fullest ability. The crews will rely entirely on themselves to get through. This will allow us to identifying short comings and problem areas within the crews and tanks themselves.” Finished he turned back to them, the invisible pin unneeded to keep his chin up.

The communication Officer spared Saukel one last smile before turning her attention to the Senior Officer, Jäger. He wasn’t a welcoming sight to look upon, and when he spoke, it was akin to dragging a dull knife against a brick wall; coarse and rough, his voice spoke of constant use. Anya’s eyes followed his figure when he rose, and although she was aware he wasn’t much taller than her, his mere presence felt higher than the world itself. Jäager understood how to present himself in a way that prevented others from underestimating him. It took her a few moments before she began translating his speech to Korin, turning her head away from him and moreso to Korin, giving him her ear equally to Jäger, making sure her voice was quieter than Jäager’s. Her eyes were staring at Korin’s lap, fingers interlocking to keep herself busy while listening to the Senior Officer. Korin, on the other hand, pressed the pad of his thumb against his chin while the other arm was relaxed on the table, clearly listening to the young man’s plan for his soldiers. With Korin, it was difficult to say if he was ever pleased, and today didn’t seem to open that gate either. Throughout the hearing, Captain Korin remained silent. He nodded now and then, and that was the only clue Anya had gotten that he was still listening. Anya thought it was a brilliant plan, but she was no Captain of tank crews; her opinion on the matter wasn’t qualified. By the time Colonel Jäger finished and turned his icy gaze to the table, Korin had settled on an opinion of his own. “Они могут с этим справиться,” he spoke while leaning against the chair, his own voice similar to Jäger’s, and yet it didn’t make Anya’s skin crawl as Jäger’s did. She quickly jumped in to turn his words into something the rest could understand. “They can handle that, sir,” she added her own little touch to it, but it passed under Korin’s nose. She then continued, keeping her head up but not meeting Jäger’s eyes. “We are to assume that throughout their challenges in these trainings, they will be accompanied by your own men? In terms of having your squadron as their targets of emulation, as they would in a true battle, which they’ll have to join once this is over. We believe this to be the most successful operation if we are to follow your suggestions.” Anya glanced Korin’s way, hearing no disapproval from him. She was buttering their slice of bread for the Germans in a certain way, but if they were to be here for a long time, as Korin had mentioned, she wanted to make the ordeal easier on their men. If she could start the process of winning certain favor from them here, there’s a greater chance of there being less tension later on. “We expect the effort to go on for about a year, circling around different platoons. New ones will arrive monthly, while old ones join our country's effort at our current war—but our Junior Lieutenant shall remain for the matter of spreading a word.” Anya smiled, almost to herself, knowing Jäger expected a Senior Officer and not a Junior. She eyed everyone at the table, ensuring the words reached not just the statue that was Colonel Jäger.