Hartmann wiped sweat and dust from his forehead with a muttered curse.

'Hold here,'

he called down through the open hatch and braced himself as the panzer slowed to a halt in the grass of the steppe. He peered up the slope ahead, seeing tan dust rising to meet the gathering clouds from beyond the crest.

'Turret, front – fifteen degrees. Get a bead right on the top of that ridge'.

Looking ahead he saw the other tanks in his platoon had halted. He thumbed the transmit button on his microphone.

'Loaders, ready with reloads. That’s a lot of dust so look alive.'