World Battlefronts: There is No Night

The Germans crossed the Don. On sunny days, Russian shells and bullets from the eastern bank and bombs from the sky raised bright geysers around the bodies of the dead. On a cloudy day, when the Stormoviks flew low at the pontoon bridges and rubber boats of the invaders, many a German trooper's last sight in life was the dappled carpet of rain on the river. Along the western bank, where bombs and shells clawed great gaps in the lines of trucks and tanks, Germans died by thousands, and hospital trains bore many more thousands to the rear.

But more survived. They...

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