Sergeant Stenkowski and the Crew of his Sherman V had been dreading a day like this. The Polish Army had been lucky enough to take a sizable town out of Nazi hands, and now, due to fighting on other fronts, were left with a small detachment to defend whatever they could.

From their position behind a two-story building, Stenkowski leaned on the turret from his position in the cupola, watching the crews of a 17-pound anti-tank gun and a 6-pound anti-tank gun go their best to hide in a small clump of woods. The guns weren't exactly easy to hide but the men did their best.

Stenkowski sighed. He, hell everyone knew they'd be facing superior numbers. But they were fortunate enough to have had some time to place a few roadblocks, some barbed wire. Hell, they'd even lucked out and gotten some anti-personnel mines, although there was a lot of doubt in the platoons as to whether that would work.
He chuckled under his breath. The platoons. Such a description didn't seem quite descriptive enough. There were two, exactly two platoons for them to work with, supported by two anti-tank guns, a Vickers MG and an 81mm Artillery Spotter. Considering that intelligence had said that they would be looking at at least a company and a half of Germans with armor and vehicle support, well, it would have to be their best performance ever. The Polish hadn't been equipped with the best weapons in the war, and everyone knew that getting into a shootout with the Germans would have deadly consequences.

Pushing himself out of the cupola completely, sitting atop the turret, watching the extremely understrength company's lone Vickers MG set up in a building, the water-cooled barrel of the weapon pointing out the window. Christ, that thing would have to put down some major fire to do the job it was supposed to do.
Across the mostly flat plains surrounding the village came the call. The warning that faintly, sounds could be heart, that the tiny figures of marching soldiers were beginning to crest the small rise east of the town. Swinging his feet around, Stenkowski slipped back into the Cupola, wondering whether he and his men would even have a chance to fire off a shot in the battle. 

"Our orders are to stay here unless we can ambush the enemy or reasons otherwise." Stenkowski called down into the tank, his voice ringing through the Tank's metal interior. 

And there they sat, waiting, biding their time, waiting for a chance to strike at the Germans, to break their back, or to at least do enough damage to hinder their approach. 

However, being the Tank's commander, he had to be able to keep a view of the battlefield unless forced to dip inside of the protective hull of his tank. And, with all of the men hidden, prepared to ambush their opponents, his only view was inside the building infront of the tank and of the twin anti-tank guns to his right. So, he watched them, waiting for their crews to pop up, fire the guns and begin the combat.
Much to his disappointment, for three minutes, nothing happened. He could hear the sound of German half-tracks far in the distance, but otherwise, there was silence. 
Just as he began to fear that they were waiting too long, letting the Germans come to close, he watched as the crew of both the guns pop up, and fire, tongues of flame licking the air as each round was discharged. He heard the familiar sound of metal driving through metal once, then twice off in the distance. That was good news, be it vehicles or armor they had knocked out. 

Almost immediately gunfire erupted from the eastern fields, the Germans firing with everything they had at the now-revealed guns. Luckily, for the most part their fire was inaccurate, dirt kicking up around the guns and the occasional bright flash of a tracer shooting through the scattered trees, but otherwise, no casualties. 

Stenkowski counted the moments, knowing that if the Germans were firing, then they had revealed their infantry positions, and that meant soon the artillery barrage would begin, to scare or possibly break the German advance. And, within a few seconds, the whistle of shells overhead could be heard, each impacting the ground somewhere he couldn't see. Clapping his hands, he whooped, knowing how accurate the 81mm shells could be when the spotter could see his target.

That moment of glee was suddenly cut short, as the ground erupted near the 6-pound gun, dirt flying into the air. The flash of the explosion had forced Stenkowski to turn his head away, but, as he turned back, he could see the mangled corpses of two members of the crew lying on the ground. The rest of the men moved frantically, doing their best to keep the gun operation under the now, seemingly increased gunfire.
The crew of the 17-pound gun wheeled it to the right, loading a round and firing. Off in the distance, the ping of metal ricocheting off metal rang across the fields, the gun's crew loading up another shot. Stenkowski almost felt himself give the order to advance, to give whatever tank was out there something else to shoot at, to give the anti-tank gun a chance to take it out. 

As the crew of the 6-pound gun scrambled away from their position as another soldier was dropped to the ground by a bullet, he watched tentatively, the bullets zipping around the 17-pound gun as they loaded another round and fired. The same effect however, off in the distance, the sharp ping of metal against metal again.
Cupping his hands around his mouth, Stenkowski yelled as loud as he could to the gun's crew, trying to see if they had any important information for him.
"What are you firing at?" He yelled at the top of his lungs over the din of explosions and gunfire.

One of the men, a fresh faced young lad turned to look at him, ducking his head instinctively at yet another burst of fire, then calling back. "It looks like a Tiger! We don't know though, can't tell!"

Stenkowski let a long burst of air shoot forth from his chest. A Tiger? Unless his Sherman V could get behind one of those things, which, based on the near total lack of tree cover was probably not going to happen, they couldn't take it out. Which meant it could sit back and pound the buildings in the village into rubble, and then move closer, supporting the infantry and mow down any opposition with its machine gun. 
He could hear yells and shouts in German now, the level of gunfire near the anti-tank gun increasing suddenly. He watched each man attempt to take cover, only to be eventually cut down by a hail of gunfire. It was at that point, Sergeant Stenkowski decided to act.

Yelling down at the driver to "Get this goddamned tank going" he felt it lurch suddenly as it started forward and then turned towards the patch of scattered trees where the dead crew of the 17-pound gun now lay. He could see the two small houses near the trees, and the German soldiers near them. He couldn't tell what kind of squad they were, nor could he get a real guess at how many. They didn't allow him the time. For, upon sighting a tank commander poking his head out of the top of his tank, they began to fire like mad at him, and he quickly ducked down inside the turret, the safe sound of metal clanking above him as bullets pinged off the armor.
As soon as they came into sight, the bow and coaxial machine gunners opened up upon their targets, firing into the building where the Germans hid from a distance no more than 75 meters. The thought that some of the enemy soldiers might be carrying the deadly Panzerfausts that had taken out so many Allied tanks did cross his mind, but only for a moment. 

"I see the enemy tank sir! Rotating turret now to bear!" The voice of his gunner rang through the Sherman's metal shell, reverberating around with the sound of the machine-gun fire.

"Target in sight! Aimed and ready to fire AP round sir!" His gunner called, awaiting his command to fire. 

"Fire!" Stenkowski barked. Every second counted now, his Sherman was the most potent weapon around for their side.
"AP away!" 

The tank rocked backwards as the AP round rocketed out of its barrel, shooting towards the target.

"No damage done sir! The round just bounced off!" his gunner called, more than a fair amount of fear pitching into his voice. "We've got another round loaded, ready to fire!"
Stenkowski was silent for a moment. The first round had ricocheted off, like he had expected. Surely the Tiger had sighted them by now and was lining up the kill... best to go out with a blaze of glory then.

Nodding to himself, Stenkowski took a deep breath. "Fire!"
The tank rocked backwards again, the shell clattering to the floor of the tank as the round shot off again. 

"AP away!"

There was another pause, the coaxial and bow machine guns spitting forth a few more rounds every few seconds. Then, a disappointed sigh from the gunner.
"Another round just bounced off! What now?"

Stenkowski had been in enough battles to know when something was wrong. The Tiger should have fired by this point, something should've happened. But, for the time being, nothing. He furrowed his brow for a moment, a smile curling across his features as he realized. Moving to one of the small periscopes used for seeing out of the tank when it was buttoned, he looked long and hard at the tank upon the hill.
"Rotate the hull, front to bear on enemy tank. Tank us towards him, full speed." He called out, still looking hard.

"Sir yes sir!" The driver turned the treads, the hull of the tank turning and then the tank's entire huge mass moving forwards, right at the supposed Tiger. The machine guns began to fire constantly now, as if they couldn't run out of targets for their weapons. Off in the distance, he was sure he could hear the sound of the motor of a German halftrack somewhere, but for now, the tank upon the hill had to keep his full attention. 

As they approached, the tank speeding past infantry and kicking up spurts of dirt and pebbles behind it, the form of the Tigers form became more and more clear. Stenkowski squinted for a moment, having never felt so happy before in his life. It wasn't a Tiger at all... it was a Jagdpanther! And, as he looked, it seemed that the gun was damaged beyond repair. It seemed that god truly was looking out before him this day.

"What should we do about the Jagdpanther sir?" His gunner must have seen the same, and had to have been as happy as he was. 

"Get behind it, and fire. Take him out from the rear." Stenkowski cackled, slapping his leg. They might have a chance to beat off all these Germans after all, given that there were no more surprises.

The Sherman continued forward, making its way behind the German tank-hunter, its turret turning to point directly at the rear of its target. Stenkowski smiled no longer caring why it didn't seem like the crew had bailed out or not.
"Fire."

Almost as soon as the gunner said "AP away!" the sound of metal tearing through metal rang across the battlefield, the Jagdpanther's idling motor coming to a sudden stop. 

"Wait..." Stenkowski smirked, pushing the cupola up and poking his head out of the top of the Sherman's turret, taking hold of the .50 Cal flexible. He hadn't gotten a chance to use this gun yet, and he wanted to, badly. 

After a few seconds, the crew began to make their way out of the tank-hunter's escape hatches, only to be met with a hail of gunfire. Stenkowski couldn't help but to feel a bit relieved as the German tank commander poked his head out of the top of the cupola, his head seemingly disintegrating as a .50 cal round passed through it. He wouldn't have to worry about anything else the Germans had now, unless they were very accurate with their grenades.

"Hunting time boys!" He called down into the tank, banging the turret with his fist. "Grip it and rip it."

The turret immediately began to track away from the disabled German tank, swiveling towards a unsuspecting German halftrack, lurching forward as the treads took them closer, a tongue of flame shooting from the barrel as it unleashed a round at the halftrack, destroying the vehicle on impact. 

The turret tracked to the side once more, coming down a small incline, firing once more, another halftrack falling prey to the tank's main gun. 
"Back to the town, lets give our boys a hand!" Stenkowski ordered, letting loose with a few more rounds from the powerful .50 cal.

The Sherman V proceeded to knife through the remaining German infantry, catching a unlucky few men trying to cross a section of barbed wire, mowing down even more upon the flat, open streets of the town. By the end of the battle, many of the Germans had run away or had surrendered, much of which due to the actions of Stenkowski and the crew of his Sherman V.

The company commander had watched the drama unfold before him, and, although Stenkowski and his men could only account for 20 confirmed infantry casualties caused, the suspicion among the men was that the number of unconfirmed casualties had to reach near 40. 

Stenkowski was immediately put up for commendation and all in that company would remember his actions that day.

(Thanks for reading. You'll have to excuse me; I just don't know the names of any Polish War Medals. Send me feedback at Pred242@aol.com)