Gunfire echoed throughout the background, with the occasional sound of artillery fire going off in the distance. Saint Petersburg was covered in snow, the bodies of the dead lying in the streets frozen to the point where they could no longer be a matter of concern when it came to the spreading of disease.
In the months since the Tsar and his family fled the city the battle between the Red Army and those who remained loyal to the Emperor had reached peak intensity. The Reds had dug in outside of the city, with each of their assaults being repelled by the Russian Army and the Black Hundreds militias which supported them.
Despite the Reds’ attempts to break through the city’s defenses resulting in abject failure, and significant losses with each assault, the Russian loyalists who bravely put their lives on the line to prevent the Bolsheviks from coming in had suffered equally as dearly for their efforts if not more so.
To put it simply, the state of Saint Petersburg was miserable. But at least they could rely on imports from the Reich to keep everyone fed. Because of this, while in a dreadful state, desperation had not yet kicked in among the civilian population.
As General Anatoly Stessel stood within the safety of the city, gazing upon the enemy fortifications through his binoculars while smoking a cigarette, one of his subordinates came running up to him.
The man appeared as haggard and grizzled as the General himself, both of which were covered in mud, blood and snow, while clearly showing no signs of grooming over the course of the past month.
The young officer saluted the General while making a report to him that was sure to lift the spirits of not only Anatoly but the city as a whole.
“Sir! The German volunteers have arrived. And they appear to have brought a significant amount of heavy weapons to support the defense of the city!”
Anatoly lowered his binoculars and gazed at the Officer in shock for several moments. He was not expecting the arrival of this so called Iron Brigade for at least another two weeks. They were early. But that was not something to be disappointed about. Rather, he quickly put out his cigarette by tossing it on the packed snow, before stomping it with his feet.
There was no possibility of anything catching fire in this weather, but at this point it was a point of habit for the man. He quickly began walking in the direction of the port while shouting orders at the Officer who had alerted him to this most welcomed news.
“Well, don’t just stand there! Come with me. I want to see this Iron Brigade myself!”
—
Bruno stood on the docks of Saint Petersburg. A cigarette was in his mouth as he lit it up, taking a hefty drag, while gazing upon the city and its ruinous state. No doubt the Bolsheviks had brought in the big guns for this siege.
In comparison, Bruno brought the smallest caliber of artillery he could manage. Primarily because of its lightweight nature, which would be most useful in the transport of the weapons.
Even so, he brought something like 36 guns with him. Which was a lot of firepower to be wielded in battle even though they were all in 75mm and not something more significant. As the soldiers of the Brigade began to unload their equipment with the aid of the Russian dock workers, they were approached by the Russian Army.
Or more specifically, the man in charge of it, as well as several of his subordinate officers. Along with a personal bodyguard. Bruno could see the state which the Russian General was in, which no doubt if he looked so haggard and battle-worn, then Bruno dared not think what the average soldier was like at the moment.
Bruno however forced a smile as he saluted the Russian General who outranked him and informed the man that his troubles had come to an end.
“General, I’m happy to inform you that the siege has been lifted! Or it will be soon enough once my men get into position!”
The General didn’t necessarily believe this. By now, the Red Army had reinforced their losses, and a total of 80,000 men currently surrounded the city. Meanwhile, the initial 25,000 Loyalist defenders had been whittled down to a mere 15,000. The next assault was guaranteed to bring them to their knees. Even if the Germans boosted their total number to 21,000.
Or so the General thought until that is he saw what the Germans were unloading from the transport ships. Bruno had brought with him 100 Maxim Machine guns. After all, he equipped every platoon within the Infantry Brigade with a machine gun team.
This meant that Bruno had brought more machine guns than existed in the entirety of the Russian Army at the moment. Like the later Russian PM M1910 Maxim Gun, the German guns used a fluted water jacket. The purpose of which was to cut some weight, albeit minimal amounts.
Even so, it appeased Bruno’s sense of aesthetics, which was his primary reason for instructing his family’s company to manufacture their MG 01/03s this way. Which was the designation given to the improved Machine guns that had been adopted by the German army following Bruno’s suggestions to invest heavily in their development and manufacture.
100 machine guns, and 36 75mm field guns? This was easily enough firepower to lift the siege. Of course, the General had yet to see the full amount of heavy weaponry Bruno was bringing into the field, but he had seen at least a dozen machine guns pulled out of crates. And because of this, he was quick to compliment the man.
“If you have as many of those machine guns as I think you do, you may just be able to live up to your words!”
Bruno scoffed when he heard this remark, before ensuring the General he had far more of such weapons than he thought.
“Oh, believe me General, I have much more where these came from. But that’s besides the point. What I need from you right now is to show me the defenses you have constructed around the city. I want to know where best to place my men in preparation for the next assault!”
Bruno received no complaint from the Russian General as the two marched across the frozen city’s streets and towards the front lines where Bruno could calculate a proper defensive strategy for the next wave.
Though Bruno should probably be wearing his helmet, it was currently tied to his waist as he walked through the city and smoked. As they approached the front lines, Bruno heard the thunder of guns in the distance.
From the sound of it, they were Russian 105mm siege guns. These weapons were already antiquated when they were used against the Japanese in Manchuria. Having quite literally been designed in the late 1870s.
Still, the shells landed nearby and detonated as the Loyalist defenders quickly ran for cover. Even the Russian General by Bruno’s side scurried off like a rat, at least until he saw Bruno just standing there smoking while gazing up at the shrapnel and snow both of which fell from the sky.
Once he saw that Bruno wasn’t remotely shaken by the thunder of the guns whose shells were detonating nearby, the Russian general returned to his side. And shortly after that, the shells stopped firing.
In the accompanying silence, Bruno chuckled before flicking his cigarette into the snow. After which he made a snide remark to the General before walking forward towards a vantage point he could use to properly prepare for what was soon to come.
“It’s not the ones you hear that will get you…”
The meaning behind this was simple. An artillery shell traveled at such a speed that you would be dead from its detonation long before you heard the echo of it being fired in the distance. It was perhaps because of this that Bruno did not even bother to place his helmet on his head, let alone run for safety like the other soldiers nearby.
When the Russian General heard these words as well as the callous look on Bruno’s face, he couldn’t help but wonder just how many battles the German general had been through to look so fearless in the face of an oncoming artillery barrage. Something that would easily cause lesser men to break down should they endure such an assault.
After staring in silence for some time, the man realized that Bruno had already advanced to a vantage point overlooking the battlefield. And quickly scurried off after him. He would go into extensive detail about the preparations he had made to defend the city from the Red Army, but Bruno did not hear a word of it.
He was instead envisioning where he would put his machine guns, and where he would line up the Iron Brigade and their Tsarist allies in order to properly decimate the next wave of the Red Army’s assault.
There was a reason the Maxim Machine Gun was known by the nickname of the Devil’s Paintbrush in Bruno’s past life. But today the Devil would not be the painter, rather it would be Bruno who took assumed this role.
After careful consideration, Bruno began to move his soldiers into positions. With the artillery having gone off, and ceased. It was only a matter of time before the whistles blew and the charge began. When that happened, the Red Army would be in for a very rude awakening.
