Tiger Command!

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“Panzer rollen!” SS-Hauptsturmführer Hans von Schroif jerked his clenched fist downwards as if pulling on an imaginary bell chain and gave the familiar command. Responding with a smooth discipline bred from years of familiarity, driver SS-Panzerschütze Bobby Junge disengaged the clutch and the battered Panzer IV lurched violently into motion as it rolled forward towards the front.

Had the tank not been festooned with a motley selection of grenadiers precariously holding onto everything they could, the thankful landsers, sundry rear area warriors and the overworked engineers left behind in the assembly and supply area near the company workshops, would have noticed the neatly stencilled word Magda on the side of the vehicle.

Dutifully, the remaining tanks of his SS-Panzerkompanie fell in behind. They were followed by four SPW half-tracks, each packed to capacity with shivering grenadiers, as Kampfgruppe von Schroif began to rumble over the river of mud which constituted the main rollbahn to Rostov. The muddy morass of the Rostov road was unmistakeable, its route clearly marked on each side by the remains of thousands of stranded cars, trucks and carts which formed an almost unbroken verge of worn out and dilapidated wrecks. The few spectators, both military and civilian, watched in sullen silence as the column slithered its way past.

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