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25 April 1943

Warsaw Ghetto, Warsaw, Generalgouvernement, Poland


Brigadefuehrer Juergen Stroop adjusted his cap as his Panzer IV slowly rolled through the streets of Warsaw. Damn kikes should have known that they couldn't hope to hold off the Schutzstaffel, he thought. But they'd fought hard, very hard, in the first few days of the uprising. These past couple of days, though, it'd been slightly quieter - although, in this case, "quieter" was very much indeed a relative term. Even a little quieter is too quiet for them, he thought. They must be planning something.

No sooner had he thought that than a Jewish machine gun in a building up ahead opened up on a squad of infantry that had advanced a bit too far into the open. Several of their number quickly went down; the rest joined their compatriots on the ground to avoid being hit. Stroop grumbled under his breath. This wasn't going to be easy at all.

"Forward!" he said to the Panzer IV's driver. The panzer rumbled forward, rattling and clanking, as already the survivors in the infantry squad returned fire with rifles and two MP40 submachine guns. The Jews still would lose, even though they were making the Germans pay a high price.

A flash of fire off to the panzer's right caught his attention - just in time for him to see a rocket streak out from between two buildings, trailing fire. Headed straight for the Panzer IV.

He had time only to cover his head with his hands before the panzer exploded in a fireball.
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