The garden, Koniklijke Palace, shortly later

It had rained in the night, grass, flowers, trees and bushes still wet. Slightly to the right towered the LEONIE SCHLAGETER, Messerschmitts circled overhead. A clear morning dawned, smoke rising here and there in the surrounding city, sirens screaming, occasional explosions and shooting.

Beate Brunner and Anke Stein concentrated on the task at hand. The male, this prince, wouldnt surprise them a second time. He must be around somewhere behind the plants probably hiding after his foolish panic reaction.

Anke gestured to the Brunner in their standard sign language, and the SET parted, searching for the errant Männlein (= diminuitive for male in german).

Blonde Beate found him first. Better to say, he found her. SET or not, higly trained or not, a long, hard piece of tropical wood, from Dutch Sumatra to be exact, coming down with force on ones base of the scull, can pose a certain problem to ones physical condition. Uttering nothing more than a soft moan, the Brunner was out for good.

As she slowly regained consciousness, she lay under an east indian bush, her weapons gone, her limbs taped together with her own material from her rucksack, and a very effective gag had been applied too. You had to know Beates history to understand her very unSETlike scream of horror into this gag.

No! Not again. She made helpless by a male, like on the STOLZ OF BRESLAU back then. Her horror grew, as the Royal Prince came into view, dragging a still unsconcious and likewise bound and gagged Anke Stein along with him. The Prince only wore socks at the feet, white ones, now dirty and wet thanks to the surroundings.

Beate starred at the dirty socks and mewed slightly hysterical. This – couldnt – be – real.

The Prince dragged Anke beside her, took up both poison guns like Mathilde Wayne in the movies, and left without a second look at the two SET.

The Stein was still out. Beate wriggled uselessly, until she thought of her pocketknife. Frantic activity followed. It took the german gal a while to realize the knife was gone too.

Oberst Skorzeny wouldnt like developments, no, she really wont. Beate shuddered.

Royal Sleeping Quarters, just moments later

Ophelia Skorzeny looked down on the perfectly packaged dutch queen, complete with leash and all.

“What a wonderful sight, fitting for our little queen, Frau Oberst.”

Antje Kamphues beside the Skorzeny beamed down on the furious, but impotent queen. Ophelia eyed the traitress shortly. Ego it was with her, she now knew. She had no problems with that, admitting to herself it was her own drive too.

“Lets be on our way, as soon as the Queen is on the SCHLAGETER, the better.”

“But the Prince, we must get him too.”

“Granted, Vrouw Kamphues. But my maidens will deliver him shortly.”

On saying this, Ophelia felt a creeping in the neck, this sense she had aquired back in Asia in endless lessons. Suddenly something was wrong with this male.

The Kamphues lit a cigarette in triumph. Ophelia, tossing the queens leash to one of her gals, asked most casually:

“This Peer. The Prince. What kind of fellow is he? Adventurous a bit?”

“He is a bit strange, yes, presides over the first dutch boxing club for males, could you imagine?”

Antje Kamphues giggled at the thought.

“Really.”

Ophelia made a flat face.

“Leutnant Vielhaber, bring her majesty to the airship without delay. I will look for the prince myself.”

“But...”made the Kamphues.

“And the dutch sister here will accompany you. Look after her.”

“Jawoll, Frau Oberst.”

The blonde readied her poison gun and jumped out the broken window.

The SET led the traitress and the helpless Queen out of the room. Beatrix struggles were to no avail. Antje Kamphues laughed on seeing it.

The Garden, shortly later

There they were, the bitches dragging his loved one along like an unwilling dog. Anger rose in Peer, anger and determination. It were six german gals, the Kamphues unbound with them, even carrying a gun. A traitress, Antje? He dismissed the thought as unimportant now. There were more SET in the garden, up all the way to the big airship towering above.

He was a good shot, but unfamiliar with these poison guns. But this was beside the point.

He had absolutely no chance, but this was beside the point too.

The Dutch Prince Husband prepared to rise in a doomed attempt to rescue his loved one from the fascistas clutches, as he felt cold steel at his neck.

He hadnt noticed the blonde wasnt with the group.

“Dont move, Your highness. Please drop the guns.”

He sighed and obeyed. It was over.

“You are very good for a male, really. A pity we are enemies. Please rose slowly.”

Peer did so, an inner rage burning in him. The arrogance in this voice, the confidence. And the amusement. The amusement was the worst of it.

“Would you care to enlighten me about the whereabouts of Privates Stein and Brunner, Your Highness?”

Several SET in the garden had spotted them and approached quickly.

“By the way, you may turn now.”

“The pictures cant tell the whole truth. You are really juicy, Your Highness. Too bad you love your Beatrix so much. I respect that, really.”

“Mam, I would really appreciate if you shut up and get things going.”

He expected her to get angry now, knowing how obedient and docile like slaves males had to be in Germany nowadays, but instead she smiled, her eyes softening.

Then, several things happened at once. Strange buzzing sounds all around, the approaching SET dropped without sounds like sacks of grain. He saw gals in woolen khaki caps and pullovers attacking the group with Beatrix.

The blonde German turned, surprised only for a moment and started to jump into the bushes. Another buzzing sound, quite near, and the blonde dropped into the grass, not moving anymore. From behind her, a young gal with leftenants markings on her pullover rose from behind a tree and came over.

Looking down on the unconscious blonde, Leftenant Justine Stockbottom said:

“So we meet again, Fraulein Skorzeny.”

Koniklijke Palace, 15 minutes later...

It had taken Lois a while to get things organized. There were still fights with some of the SET, and worse, the regular german paratroopers were approaching from the aerodrome, crushing all dutch resistance, and they had deadly weapons, not stunners and poison guns.

The Mounbatten had their gals leave most stunned Superfrauen where they were, only a dozen, naturally the Skorzeny among them, would accompany them back.

All twelve Germans down to the blonde masterbitch had been stripped to their underwear, taped up in abundance, and thoroughly gagged, leashs not missing. They all looked very angry, only the Skorzeny seemed even to grin under the broad tape gag. That worried Lois Mountbatten, but only slightly so. Soon, the bitch would rott away in Dartmore until the war was won. She dismissed the tall blonde from her mind and turned to the Dutch Queen, who starred furiously at the helpless darkhaired dutch civilian, her secretary betraying her, as Lois had learned.

“Your majesty, we must go now. Please join us on board HMS HEROINE, its not secure here. We cant hold against the paratroopers. You cant organize your countries defense from here.”

“I understand that, Lady Colonel. Just make sure this treacherous snake and the blonde bitch accompany us. We have to speak, Antje, havent we?”

“Mmmppff!”

“Leftenant Stockbottom, you are responsible for the queens safety on the way to the ship. No, Sergeant Linneker will take the blonde Germans leash. Leftenant Stockbottom, thats an order!”

Justine looked like a spoiled child, but finally obeyed, reaching Skorzenys leash over to the sergeant.

“Fine. Lets be on our way, shall we? Your Highness, please honor us by taking this stun gun, I think you know how to use it.”

“Thank you, Lady Knight.”

Beatrix turned away from the traitress and eyed Mountbatten, then Peer sharply.

“Lady Knight? You know each other? Peer?”

“We played Tennis together, in Brighton, a few years ago.”

“So, played tennis...”

“Please, Bea, I will explain later.”

Beatrix looked down on Peers wet and dirty socks.

“No, we have no time for that.”

“You look ridiculous, Peer, in your socks.”

Lois took the queen by an arm and said:

“Your majesty, your husband looks just great, please, can we go now?”

“Fine, fine, Lady Knight. How often exactly did you play tennis together?”

Was the Skorzeny giggling under her gag? Lois eyed her sharply.

Gunfire started outside, and finally Lois got the party going, Leftenant Gascoignes platoon as rearguard behind.

The harbor, Amsterdam, a few minutes later

Everything went well on the way to the harbor, the party avoiding the advancing german paras, entering the waiting boats of HMS HEROINE. The distance to the cruising destroyer was diminishing quickly.

Then there were the Stukas, and everything went down the shitter. Big fontaines of water showered the party in the boats, the Stukas strafed the whole harbor, bullets hissing everywhere. One of the boats with several commandos and parts of the royal household took a direct hit.

All the way to the harbor, and even now on the boat, Justine Stockbottom had only one eye on the dutch queen and the prince, the other constantly monitoring the Skorzeny. Justine just knew she would try to escape. But the blonde remained suspiciously docile.

Justine even ignored the Stuka attack. At least until one of the damned machines seemed to come down on their boat alone. Bullets ripped the water, marching quickly towards the boat, and then two of the german prisoners and some commandos were hit, the wood of the boat torn apart. Justine felt a sharp pain in her left cheek, as a wooden splinter hit home. Her vision suddenly blurred, she cleared it soon enough to see Sergeant Linneker wriggling in her blood, hit by several bullets. And to see the Skorzeny, still taped up, fall backwards out of the boat into the water, not injured, but on purpose, her leash dangling loose from her neck.

The siren of the roaring Stuka was defeaning as well as the cries of the wounded. Justine sent a wild look at the Queen, which seemed to be alright, aiming with a submachinegun at the Stuka, fear seemingly unknown to the young blonde. The leftenant hesitated only one more second, then jumped into the water herself, following the blonde bitch.

The water was dirty and very cold, her woolen dress soaked in seconds, her boots heavy at her feet. Justine fought and came back to the surface, gasping for air. The Stukas roared overhead, the AA-guns of HMS HEROINE and an old dutch cruiser nearby adding to the crescendo. Smoke drifted fat and black above the waters surface.

Where was the Skorzeny? Could she swim with arms tied to her body? What a question, Justine, there she was, already on her way back to the harbor wall. You wont get away this time, Justine swore to herself and started to follow the bound blonde.

Once or twice she thought the blonde had finally lost the fight, drowning in the end, but then she saw her again, swimming like a dolphin. Justine had to show all her abilities herself to stay afloat and reach a staircase at the wall a few moments after the blonde. How the Skorzeny had brought her bound body out of the water would always remain a mystery to Justine, but at present she didnt think twice about it. She climbed up the staircase and drew her stun gun, which was waterproof, or so it was said. A typical Amsterdam channel leading into the harbor to the right, pittoresque houses ahead, an old, rusty merchant ship to the left, big wooden crates standing all around.

There was shooting not far away, a woman cried in pain. Where was the blonde? She jumped down from one of the crates, her left foot colliding with Justines head, the right one hitting her bossom. Justine gasped and fell, but managed to land in controll, rolling away from the blonde monster, who landed like a cat on her feet, arms still taped to the body, mouth gagged impeding her breathing, in theory at least.

The young english gal tried to bring distance between them, aiming with her stun gun. The naked feet of the blonde hit her gun hand, the stunner vanishing in the channel nearby.

An explosion at the houses sent the glass of several windows showering them with sharp splinters, one cutting into the Skorzenys left leg.

Justine let out a wild scream and threw herself forward, hitting the blonde in the middle. Amidst a rain of broken glass both hit the ground together. The blondes knee smashed into Justines stomach, stunning the commando, pain overwhelmed her, then the blondes foot coming down on her face – and nothing.

As the Stockbottom came back to her senses again, she expected to be a helpless bundle again like back in Ireland when meeting the blonde for the first time.

Instead, she lay behind one of the wooden crates, her body aching, but unbound. The blonde crouched near her, having cut her bonds with Justines knife, still in her underwear.

Justine heard german voices nearby, commands and such. The German paratroopers had arrived in the vicinity. The blonde bitch lay a finger at her lips.

“Quiet, Leftenant. You took a big glass splinter in the back. I have taken the liberty to care to the wound, but you better dont move.

I guess I am in front two to one now. To bad our game should end now. I am sure you want to get even again. So just be quiet and there might be another day.”

With this she rose and left, leaving behind a very perplexed Stockbottom.

The commando heard the blonde talk in german with some paras, then they were all gone. Gone like the Stukas overhead. Justine tried to rise, but a sharp pain in her back convinced her otherwise. At least she could roll over to look out at the harbor, just to see HMS HEROINE leaving it at full speed.

Someone approached her, a dutch teenager in fireguard uniform and with a dirty face.

“Mam? You are English, no? Please, we must go, the Germans are all around here.”

“I am injured, my back.”

“I will help you.”

A second wave of Stukas arrived overhead. Justines adventures had only just begun. It had been easier back in her childrens quarter playing Lady Wellington or Lady Marlborough.

As she slowly rose up with the dutchs girl help, her thoughts wandered back to the blonde. A strange woman, this blonde, very strange.

XL – INTO THE ABYSS

Quartier Generale, Chantilly, near Paris, France, November 17th, 1939, 18.22 hours

It had taken the french general staff a few days to grip reality, but finally they had landed, and hard, MajorGeneral Jennifer AlanBrooke thought dryly.

Confidence, bored arrogance, elegant movements, everything was gone, replaced first by worried looks, frantic activity and stern faces, now followed by first signs of panic and despair. The Germans were approaching the french border, having swept aside dutch and belgian forces, and the french army tried desperately to regroup, having left the border in the north nearly totally void of troops. But the rain had mostly stopped, and the Luftwaffe cut the trainstations and bridges and streets to shreds, slowing every movement, their Stukas even hunting the marching columns, their Messerschmitts controlling the air.

Only at Ghent some french forces had arrived, now engaged in a bloody battle with the furiously attacking Superfrauen.

Estimates were that fifty german divisions were in the offensive right flank, among them no less than 20 armored divisions. The French could never hope to stop them in time.

Sic transit gloria mundi, Jennifer thought, So moves away the glory of the world. And she was here to witness it all, instead of commanding a division in the field. But liason officress to french HQ she was, and all she had to report back to London was the chronicle of the french downfall.

She eyed the assembled french officers, elegant, beautiful ladies, now her hair partly loose, the odd lipstick or eyeshadow in disarray, eyes slightly widened like in permanent shock. Most were smoking, hastily, nervously, ashes even falling on the maps at the table. More than one seemed to be slightly drunk. They were a shame for a once great nation.

Lady Gamelin, french commandress in chief, straightened up and asked:

“So, where are the german spearheads? Have they reached the belgian-french border yet?”

Jennifer listened to reports and discussion. The picture was dark and clear at the same time. The Netherlands – doomed, no land connection remaining. Around Ghent and Antwerp, heavy fighting between french and belgian forces against a german force of about 12 divisions. Losses very heavy.

Brussel – lost, Mons threatened, Namur, Arlon, taken by the Panzers. The Germans were attacking Reims in the center, meeting with the mass of the french army, trying to get west from their positions around the Maginot line. This attack, for the media the main battle, was clearly only aiming to pin the french army down, to allow the Panzerdivisions of the german right flank to break into northern France.

The Gamelin and her chicken horde at least saw this too, but there wasnt much to be done about it. Not committing forces to Reims would open up the direct path to Paris – unthinkable.

Jennifer was convinced that the battle was already lost, but she was wise enough to be quiet, lest someone asked her where the british army was. What could she say? Guarding our empire in India and Egypt? While our main ally was under deadly assault? The French werent the only ones guilty today.

“We have problems to get a clear picture of the north. Its imperative to get a line together from Dunkerque down to Sedan. Brigit, you will make a tour to the divisions on the flank. Try to evaluate, to coordinate. I will set up your orders at once.”

Brigit Koenig was a young Colonel, probably the best of the lot, a sharp mind, still cool, emanating rage instead of despair. She saluted crisply, Lady Murat in front of Josefine Bonaparte couldnt have done better.

On her way out, she was intercepted by Jennifer.

“Lady Colonel, would you allow me to accompany you? My replacement officress can handle matters here. I would like to take a firsthand look at the carnage.”

“As you like, mon cher. Lets be on our way.”

The French and the english gal left, leaving the chicken crouching over the maptable behind, as well as the smell of fear and incompetence.

Adlernest (Eagles Lair), FuhraHQ, near Bad Münstereifel, Western Germany, roughly the same time

“The godess of revenge and death smiles upon the german people, our arms. I told you before, we will be victorious. The French are weak, rotten, not willing to fight in earnest. Youd better believe me now. I am destiny in person, send to the world to clean it from evil. The new goddesses shield and guide me, as I guide the Reich to final victory. Fanatical Faith in Germany, the goddesses and myself is my method, and you all should learn it, fanaticism is the weapon most useful. Simply put, you must believe, just believe in me, and...”

The Fuhras eyes were blazing, her cheeks red, her mouth in constant motion, her fingers clenched into tight fists, then grasping about.

It was meant to be a revelation, and for some of the assembled OKW and entourage it clearly was. Luise Beck, on the other hand, could do without such mumbo jumbo. Coldly she asked herself if the Fuhra really believed in what she say, or was she a cynical, ruthless, sheming empress of modern times, manipulating all around her? She still wasnt sure. In moments like this, she appeared like half mad, but at other times, her actions were shrewd, clever and cool, and so, Luise still hadnt looked behind the Fuhras mask.

She exchanged a look with Hella Göring, the pompous head of Luftwaffe, who grinned openly at her. This could mean many things, from “what nonsense the Fuhra babbles”, too “isnt she great” or “you are on my list, you snake.”

The daily situation report had turned into a monologue by the Fuhra again, but Luise didnt mind in a professional sense, as operations went most smoothly. Even the weather was with the Wehrmacht. Dry and clear, ideal for Panzers and Luftwaffe. The prolonged battle at Ghent was a minor setback, but Luise was sure that commandresses on the spot would prevail. She looked down at the map. Battles at Ghent and Reims, in between, the Panzerkorps advancing unopposed, the mass of french army still in Alsace-Lorraine, the Stukas and Messerschmidts ruling the skies. She had been worried beforehand, but now she was confident that France was doomed. There was the channel. Well, how about crossing it, going for London? An interesting thought. But the Royal Navy...

The Fuhra paused, gesturing to a waiting Leutnant of SET.

“My Fuhra, The Reichsfuhra and Oberst Skorzeny are ready to report as ordered.”

“Ah, very good, my faithful warrioresses, my Superfrauen in the most real sense. Forward with them, quick.”

The Beck watched as the Himmler and this Skorzeny entered, both wearing the show uniform of SET, black, a short skirt, tighhigh shiny black leatherboots, long gloves, plaited blonde manes. Luise smiled thinly.

Both saluted crisply, then the Hitler shook both hands.

“Oberst Skorzeny, what do I hear? You failed? I didnt think this possible. Queen Beatrix escaped your clutches. Anyway, she will be ours when final victory is achieved. The goddess of prudence guided your escape from english bonds. These english banditas, we have to do something about them. Next time, you will show them whos mistress, wont you?”

Luise was slightly astonished. No cries of anger, no insults heaped upon the failing SET? This bitch must stand in very high favor with the Fuhra.

“Please, Oberst, Reichsfuhra, join us for the report. Dear Luise, please, continue.”

“Sure, my Fuhra. The battle of Reims continued throughout the day. It looks like...”

The Skorzeny folded her gloved arms and sent an interested look to Luise, to her long legs to be exact. The Beck turned slightly red under this pleasure temple stare. What

was this blonde bitch thinking?

A road, Flanders, some miles behind the french front, 18th November 1939, 10.41 hours

There they were again. The Somua tanks stuck in the endless columns of refugees, horsecarts, automobiles, no way forth or back. You could only leave the vehicles and seek shelter in the fields left and right. Maybe it would even be saver under the tanks, as there was only a slim chance of a direct hit from a Stuka bomb.

The german killresses came down on the columns, a wave of panic and fear greeted their arrival as usual. The french tank maidens left the Somuas in all hast, vanishing in the sea of crying children, frightened males and cursing belgish and dutch gals.

Josefine Lenglen left her tank too, but only after her crew had gotten out safely. A curse on her fine lips, she left the road amidst the turmoil. The field greeted her with dirt, still a bit muddy. She hated dirt and mud, among other things. She hated more that the Somuas lacked proper AA-machineguns.

Just running away, hoping for the Stukas to spare them this time, like mice under the falcon. She clenched her fists. The sirens of the Boches were defeaning. The first bombs fell, followed by extensive strafing. Blood, tears, screams, body tissue, explosions, fire, a Somua tank WAS hit, the fuel and ammo going up, black smoke, a horse ran by, snakes of redblue flesh hanging from its hit stomach, the smell, the eyes of a dead male a few meters to the left.

No matter how often you read about it, you mentally try to prepare, the shock of war leaves only few untouched, and Josefine wasnt among those. Her heart pounding, hands shaking, she noticed a female child collecting toy soldiers fallen out of a bag amidst the carnage, unimpressed by it or in shock? She couldnt avert her eyes from the child. Then another bomb exploded, sending splinters everywhere, smoke rising, the child was gone. Josefine bit her lips and tried to calm down. In a very meek moment, she wished herself back to the tennis court, hating herself for her fear, for her all to humanly reaction.

Then it was over, the predators gone for now. Seeing the snowwhite faces of her gals, their looks for guidance amidst the horror, she felt herself come to her senses again. She rose,  straightened up. With all coolness and arrogance she could muster, she sent her maidens back to the platoons tanks.   

Five minutes later it was clear that one tank in company was destroyed, two more damaged and unable to follow. It werent the first casualties on their march to northern Belgium, and they hadnt even reached the frontline.

Slowly, very slowly the tank battalion continued its way in the opposite direction of the refugees – towards the approaching Germans. The front could already be heard here, a deep rumbling in the distance, growing by each mile.

Josefine thought of the cheap wine issued to the mademoiselles, drinking some herself seemed like a good idea. No, no you bitch, you are the Machine. You dont need such things. She thought of her mother. Had it been like this back then in 14-18? Had her mother been afraid back then? Probably she had been. This was a revelation even more frightening than anything else...

A field, Flanders, Northern Belgium,  November 19th, 1939, 8.22 hours

“Blue Wolve One, advance immediately. Acknowledge.”

“Wolve Mother, understood. Advancing. Blue Wolve One out.”

Berna Üncel switched circles to her platoon and ordered her panzers forward. She was one vehicle short. Losses were mounting in 7.Panzerdivision, while the battle for Ghent looked more and more like a quagmire resembling world war one.

But they were winning, despite the rain showing up more often since yesterday. The mud was very unwelcome news for the german armored units and the Luftwaffe. Instead of a deep thrust, the german tanks were used to help the grenadiers wrestle the ground from the french grasp.

Artillery fire was heavy, and the german maidens in the mud had a hard time. In the end, the Panzers made the difference. The French were lacking proper AT guns, and their infantry had no real means to deal with the armored Boches.

The French had tanks too, here and there, and those accounted for the losses in the german ranks.

After several days of very heavy fighting, 7.Panzerdivision was used as a armored hammer to finally smash through the strained allied lines.

Berna had had her share of fighting, and the pressure was mounting. Nevertheless, she was sharp and determined as ever, to much on adrenalin, to focused on duty and success, to be afraid. Not counting her shaking hands at night and the blood in her nightly vomitting. She couldnt succumb to these weaknesses, her soul, mind and body had to function, to bow before her will.

They crossed a small lane, broke through wooden barns and approached another small village, surrounded by trees. The whole wide field witnessed the green steel monsters rolling forward seemingly unstoppable. The Germans had already broken through the last line of trenches.

Breakthrough! Berna thought, opening the hatch and taking position in the turret. A quick look around with the binoculars. Second company just overran an artillery battery to the left. To the right, third company was falling back a bit.

Her own company headed towards the village, Bernas platoon would pass it to the left, dangerously near to the trees.

“Look out for the trees!” she commanded, scanning the approaching houses and trees herself.

Wasnt there... yes, tanks, french tanks, clumsily camouflaged, ready to ambush them.

“This is Blue Wolve One. Enemy tanks at 13o clock.”

The company commander answered with the order Berna had hoped for.

“Mother Wolve to all wolves. Fire at will.”

The village, same moment

The dammed Boches were advancing seemingly unopposed, Josephine counted more than forty of them approaching companies position.

Her gunress send her a very nervous look.

“Wait. Cool, chery, cool.”

But she asked herself what Capitan Platini was waiting for. Oh, goddess, let the Germans not detect us too soon. I TOLD the Platini the camouflage is not worth a dam. At least no LUFTWAFFE today. It was raining this dark grey morning, visibility very low.

The Germans were in reach. The Lenglen noticed most commandresses of the boches standing in their turrets. Some snipers would be nice now. They were already in range. Josephine trained her gunsights on one of the green panzers.

Give the order, you damned, useless caricature of an officer. Please, now, goddessdamit.

They lacked radios, the order would come by flag, her drivress looking out of her hatch for the signal.

“The signal, Lady Luitenant!”

It had been too late by a few seconds. The Germans started shooting, and all hell broke loose.

The fields, shortly later

An ambush is a good thing. To ambush the ambushress is even better, Berna rembered her teachress on officer school saying.

The target area was an inferno of burning tanks, shattered trees and houses and rising smoke and fire. The german gunnery was first class, especially for shooting while moving, something the french probably hadnt considered possible. Furthermore, the company commandress had immediately requested artillery support, and the divisions regiment could rely on forward observers accompanying the advancing panzers. Within two minutes after the request, the german artillery shelled the target area.

Behind the panzers, who had halted now for better targeting, now that the suprise had been achieved, panzergrenadiers left their halftracks and advanced towards the village.

Bernas gunress had hit a Somua with the first shot, and Berna had ordered her to send round after round into the carnage.

The french returning fire was weak and uncoordinated. Good. On thinking that, Berna witnessed a Panzer III of another platoon to her right going up in flames.

Bitching, she searched the hell ahead for the effective enemy.

There, behind this wall...

“Enemy tank, 14o clock, range 250.”

“Got her.”

The village

A hit. Oh my, they werent invincible after all. Ignoring the desaster around her, Josephine trained her gunsights on the next panzer, and... the Somua shuddered, as a shell bounced against the hull.

They had been spotted. Though the armor had saved them, Josephine knew better than to play sitting duck any longer.

“Claire, bring us out of here, quick.”

 The Somua rocketed backwards. Another shell missed the french tank only by a small margin and smashed in the wall before it.

Josephine opened the hatch despite the explosions and splinters outside and took a qick look around. The company was nearly gone, most tanks, including Platinis, hit. The infantry was fleeing, germans approaching. There was no sense in fighting on here. Maybe they could be of use in another line of defense.

The Lenglen ordered her drivress to retreat out of the village. The Somua changed direction and left the killing zone.

The fields

The bitch was retreating, vanishing behind some farm houses. Beeing the only enemy scoring a kill, Berna was determined to get this special customress.

“Blue Wolves, follow leadress. Esther, we are going in. I want to get this bitch.”

The three Panzer IIIs advanced again, entering the burning village, passing destroyed, smoking Somua tanks, shell holes and french gals with raised hands. The panzergrenadiers would take care of those.

Berna looked out for the lone Somua. There it was again. No, you wont get away, sister.

“Stop. Gunress, 10o clock, enemy tank.”

“On target.”

“Shoot.”

Not far away

It happened all at once. A hard thrust, fire, smoke, screams, the heat. Josephine would never knew how she got out of the burning Somua. Somehow, she found herself in the mud, the tank burning behind. Only Claire was with her. The fuel, the munition.

She and the drivress stumbled through the rain, the tank exploding behind them.

In the end, they crouched down in mud and rain, breathing heavily. Still in shock, Josephine looked around. Three german tanks were approaching, coming to a halt.

A turkogerman luitenant and two others dismounted from the first, carrying smgs.

Great. The Divine in her first battle – captured by the Boches.

The luitenant surprised her by speaking french.

“Drop your pistolbelts. Kneel over here.”

Kneel? What was the meaning of this?

Claire and the Lenglen changed a look, but obeyed.

One of the Germans produced a roll of white tape. They couldnt be serious. The German grabbed Claires arms and started to tape them behind her back.

Josephine grunted:

“Whats the meaning of this? According to the Geneva convention...”

The Turkogerman answered:

“We have our orders, Lady Luitenant. By order of the Fuehra herself, all prisoners have to be secured.”

“You... you, you cant be serious. This is an outrage. We are no criminals or wild animals...”

“I just follow orders.”

A look into the girls eyes showed Josephine that she wouldnt even consider to disobey an order. Typically german. Great, now they even gagged Claire.

The Lenglen was more than a bit angry, the stress of loosing the fight and nearly being killed adding to it. There was a short moment when she considered to put her fist into this pretty face there, but then she ordered herself to calm down. It was over. She had lost. After Claire, she was bound and gagged too. Meanwhile german infantry had reached the scene, taking over from the panzer crews.

Josephine oberved the turkogerman girl lighting a cigarette and smoking greedily. While led away by german soldieresses, she sent her enemy a last look. We will meet again, she swore to herself, knowing it to be an empty, senseless threat.

The rain was getting stronger. The two prisoners approached the destroyed village and were added to several dozen already taped french gals. The humiliation of defeat was only accentuated by the bound arms and shiny gags in the dirty faces.

The Lenglen felt her rage built up inside, but there was no way of showing it. The Divine had been defeated, and she feared, France would be defeated too.