He was pretty sure this wasn't Rails and Metal. Strike that, he WAS sure! For one, the sky was looking rather hellish, a stark contrast from the, admittedly serene looking, green covered, gently rolling hills. The second point was that he was pretty sure there was no Headquarters around.
That wasn't good, no headquarters meant no more Panzergrenadiers, even worse, no upgrades! The third was that he was part of a command squad. They seemed just as confused as he did. Altogether, there were four of them. There was a panzergrenadier hefting the standard karbiner 98k, An accurate, hard hitting bolt action rifle. And two more men wielding the dreaded Gwehr 43 rifles. Powerful, accurate, and rapid-firing, several squads armed with them could pin enemy infantry just as well as a machinegun, with twice the accuracy. One of the two was bearing the weight of a radio. And finally, there was the surprisingly young man clad in a dark grey greatcoat and the matching officer's cap. With an Iron Cross clasped round his neck, his grip tightened 'round an Mp40, a reliable submachine gun designed for mass production. He was 'The Commander' who was backed by the immeasurable might of Kampfgruppe Lehr.
Now, he wasn't anywhere near perfect. Yes he wasn't the best at micromanaging, yes he sometimes forgot to utilize abilities at an opportune time, yes he sometimes was ridiculously stingy when it came to fuel and munitions. But if there was one thing he was good at, it was hunkering down for a fight. Give him enough time and resources and he'd establish a defensive position that would make the Maginot Line look like a speedbump. Right now though, he knew none of this would help him. He didn't know where he was. Which was a first. As it stood, his minimap (accessed by simply concentrating on the thought of such, though witnessing troops would think he'd gained the thousand-yard stare, to their worry.) only display a very small area, that which was revealed, anyways. Whatever was covered by sight was just beyond his own squad's sight range.
For the first time, he stopped looking, and started listening. It was gunfire, a lot of it too! He heard not the deep booming of tank cannons, nor the terrifying whistling of incoming artillery. Simply lots and lots of small arms, he wondered for a moment and decided to move toward the ruckus, the command squad automatically falling in behind him. As he moved toward the chaotic racket, he worried, was this one of those types of missions? If he lost this squad, including himself, would it be all over? He hated those kinds of missions. He wasn't afraid of dying or losing. He'd done more than his fair share of both. But damned if he really didn't hate it.
Kamfgruppe Lehr advanced, toward barely discernible gleaming buildings, tarnished by smoke and flame, and the roar of automatic weaponry.