The composite hulls of the armored battalion crouched beneath the jungle canopy, each one cloaked in shadow.

Not a single engine rumbled. No heat shimmer rose from exhaust ports.

Only the soft, rhythmic crackle of moisture evaporating on hot metal betrayed the machines as living things.

They sat like hunting beasts, waiting.

Erich von Zehntner's command vehicle rested half-buried in vines and fern, its painted armor cloaked by camouflage netting.

He listened to the encrypted channels.

Each voice came to him through a haze of static and coded distortion, men whispering coordinates, brief acknowledgements, the muffled pulse of breathing masks.

Some transmissions came from the other tanks. Others from the infantry screens hidden in the mud, watching for the glint of movement.

Then the call came.

"Armor spotted ten clicks out. Hostile force estimated brigade size. Scratch that… make it a division."

A division. Ten thousand men and their machines grinding through Luzon's interior to cut off the German airborne landings before they could consolidate.

In any ordinary war, to hold ground against such a wave would have been madness.

But Erich knew something the Americans did not.

He looked to his gunner, a wiry veteran with sweat running down his neck.

The man's eyes were fixed on the gunsight, its lenses glowing faintly with the reflection of the targeting reticle.

Beneath the armored fighting vehicle, silent capacitors throbbed with stored energy, feeding the hybrid-electric drivetrain and the fire-control systems that made the design what it was.

These were not the diesel monsters of the last generation.

The battalion's engines had been shut down hours ago, replaced by silent battery banks.

No fumes. No vibration. No sound. In the jungle night, they were ghosts.

A crackle on the net.

"Target acquired. Awaiting permission to engage."

Erich's reply came instantly.

"Open fire."

The words barely left his lips before the forest erupted.

A blinding flash tore through the treeline.

The first gun's report wasn't a thunderclap but a deep, concussive thump, followed by a rolling shockwave that swallowed every sound in its path.

Tracer rounds screamed through the dark like molten comets.

The jungle canopy burned with the white-hot reflection of muzzle flares.

The battalion fired in coordinated rhythm, thirty machines breathing in unison.

Every third shell was a high-velocity penetrator, the rest airburst and high-explosive mix.

Within seconds the horizon was a curtain of fire.

Erich watched through the periscope as the first American formation vanished in the glare.

Their lead armor column had driven directly into the kill zone. What the enemy thought were still shadows became a wall of light and iron.

General Maurice Rose sat in the rear of his division's formation, a cigarette glowing between his fingers.

The humidity had turned his uniform into a soaked rag.

He was a man who preferred open skies, not this choking jungle where even headlights seemed to drown.

His division had been sent to intercept what High Command claimed was a German airborne brigade somewhere to the east.

Personally, he considered it nonsense.

Airborne troops were pests, dangerous in cities and hills, sure, but nothing an armored division couldn't crush by breakfast.

He'd wanted Palawan instead, where the main German–Thai landing was currently underway.

But orders were orders. Intercept, encircle and eliminate.

Those were the exact words given to him by his superiors in Washington.

As if those stuffy bureaucrats knew the first thing about how to win a war.

He exhaled smoke toward the ceiling of the Liberty tank and muttered, "I don't know what the Kaiser's done to make Roosevelt lose sleep, but this could've waited until dawn."

The officer beside him nodded absently. Rose took that as agreement and kept talking.

"Five thousand paratroopers, that's all they said. No armor. No artillery worth a damn. Hell, they probably landed half-armed. We'll bag them by morning."

He tapped ash from the cigarette.

"You ever hear these rumors about German tanks dropping from the sky in France? They say it's how Dunkirk was captured so easily, by a single battalion no less. Can you believe that nonsense?"

The officer smirked. "Fairy tales, sir."

"Exactly," Rose said. "Science fiction. Maybe next they'll tell me the Krauts are building rockets to the moon."

The men laughed, but the sound died quickly when the comms officer leaned forward, adjusting his headset.

"Sir… the Third Brigade reports they're under attack."

Rose chuckled. "And? Probably tripped their own mines again. Tell them to…"

The comms officer's expression changed.

His voice lowered. "Sir, they're taking heavy fire. They say they can't see the enemy… only muzzle flashes. Three-quarters casualties already. They're asking for immediate support."

Rose stared at him. "Three-quarters? That's impossible. They must be exaggerating. They…"

The officer's voice cracked. "Sir, the line… it's dead."

"What do you mean dead?"

"Nothing but static, sir."

For a moment the interior of the tank was silent except for the soft hiss of the radio.

Then, faintly, another channel broke through. A desperate voice, screaming through interference.

"Second Brigade under heavy fire! Unknown enemy, armored, flanking from the tree line! Request…"

The transmission cut.

Outside, the night sky to the east glowed orange, pulsing like distant lightning.

The ground beneath the Liberty tank vibrated, just enough for Rose to feel it in his teeth.

"Jesus…" he whispered.

He climbed halfway out of the turret, scanning the horizon through his binoculars.

For a heartbeat he thought he saw movement, flickers of light darting between the trees.

Then came another detonation, this one closer, followed by a strange low hum that seemed to ripple through the air before vanishing.

"What the hell was that?" one of the crewmen muttered.

Rose had no answer.

His silence was more chilling than the screams over the wire.

And when he finally responded, it did nothing to stem the tide of fear rising up within each of their hearts and minds.

"Give the order for the 4th Brigade to immediately move in support of the 2nd. As for the 1st Brigade, tell them to hold back, and wait for further orders….."

Nobody dared to disagree with the General.

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