Raise the Iron Curtain

July 6th, 1979
1200 hours
Near Fulda, West Germany
US V Corps facing Communist troops around the Inner German Border
Summer of 1979, more than ten years after the North Vietnamese army massacred thousands of civilians in Hue, South Vietnam, in what would be a crushing strategic defeat for American forces in Vietnam. Determined to prevent yet another massacre at the hands of Communist invaders, US high command gathers all of its troops in the Fulda Gap to contain a Soviet incursion threatening to conquer the European heartland.
Fire from Soviet artillery pummeled the American and West German defense lines in the outskirts of Fulda. Soviet armour cross virtually unchallenged through the border wall. From an abandoned barn, a US Army anti-tank unit engages a Soviet T-72 tank. "Get that tank coming our right side! 2 o'clock! We can't let 'em get any of our boys!", at the command of this anti-tank unit was Nick Bocconcini, a corporal in his early 20s, and already making life-and-death decisions for himself and three other men. "Hit 'em where it hurts, private!". An M40 recoilless rifle is fired from the farmhouse, hitting the T-72 and blowing up its turret. "We got another one on our 12 o'clock!" exclaimed Bocconcini. The three-man crew reloaded the M40 and aimed at the second tank, firing upon their commander's orders. 
While this anti-tank unit fended off enemy armour, another US Army unit engaged Soviet infantry inside a farmhouse. "I saw them inside Sarge, they got an LMG and two AKs" whispered Horace Pike, a 19-year old private and US Army rifleman. "We're going in. Powell, blow the hinges off this door. Everyone get in position." ordered Sergeant Eugene Driscoll, commander of an infantry squad. Private Simon Powell aimed down the sights of his Mossberg shotgun, shooting off the hinges of the main door to the farmhouse. Powell kicked down the door and scanned the den of the farmhouse. "Den clear! Moving up!". On the left side of the den, pictures of a German family still decorated the walls; on the right side of the den was the dining room, neatly set up with seven plates and silverware, presumably for a late morning lunch. "Shit, you think these civvies made it out of here in one piece?" asked Powell. "Stay focused private, there's Tangos in the area" replied Driscoll. "Move upstairs". Powell, Driscoll, Pike and three more soldiers walked past the dining room and headed upstairs. "We'll split up. Powell, take Usner and Pike and take the left side. Everyone else on me" ordered Driscoll. "Roger" replied Powell.
As Powell and the two other infantrymen made their way down the left hallway, machine gun fire and Russian radio chatter was heard from one of the rooms. "Shit, it's those Commies. Weapons ready!" exclaimed Powell. The three US soldiers breached the room and exchanged with the three Soviet soldiers. In a skirmish lasting about 5 seconds, a Soviet soldier shot Usner in the knee, before being gunned down by Powell and Pike. "Targets neutralized". "Powell, Usner's been hit. We need to call for MEDEVAC" said Pike, tending to Usner as he laid on the floor. "I'll get the Sarge, stay here with Usner. Keep your eyes peeled" replied Powell. Powell exited the room and ran to get Driscoll. "Sarge, we got the three targets. Usner's down, we need immediate MEDEVAC".
"All units on this channel, this is Foxtrot India Four Three, LMG nest is cleared. Request MEDEVAC for wounded soldier, over" said Driscoll over the radio. "Foxtrot India Four Three, this is Oscar Victor Three Six. We hear you five by five. Sending MEDEVAC to your position. ETA five minutes, over" replied a voice with a thick German accent on the radio. "Roger that, out" replied Driscoll. "You hear that Usner, the doc's gonna be here in 5 minutes, stay with me dude" said Pike to Usner. 
Five minutes later, a Bundeswehr medic was there to pick up Usner. The farmhouse, now cleared of all hostile targets, was now much safer than the fighting in the fields surrounding it, allowing the soldiers to talk in relative peace. "Doc, here's your patient. He's stable but in a lot of pain, get him outta here pronto" said Pike to the medic. "We'll get him out here safe--" suddenly, a bul. "Shit! Sniper fire!" yelled Pike. "Where's that fire coming from?" called out Powell, hiding under a window where the Soviet LMG was set up. "These bastards aren't playing by the rules? Shooting at a medic?" exclaimed Pike. "We'll get his ass out of his fucking treehouse! Just you wait!" affirmed Powell. "Where are the stones in this coward? shooting at a wounded soldier from afar" said Pike. "Everybody calm down, I need everybody focused. Herr medic, you still with us?" interjected Driscoll. "Yes Sergeant, still breathing" replied the medic. "All good to hear. Usner, are you still with us?" asked Driscoll. Usner grunted "Yes Sarge. Somebody shoot that dickless prick in the mouth already, I can't take it much longer!" replied Usner. "Shit" muttered Powell. 
As the US Army squad was stranded in the farmhouse with an injured soldier, Bocconcini and his men were still in the barn, trying to defend themselves from the high-calibre munitions of an enemy BMP-1 firing about two miles away. "We can't face it head on! Keep your heads down and don't let him know we're here!" ordered Bocconcini. As the four soldiers were ducking for cover, they were unaware that it was racing to the barn in an attempt to knock it down through sheer brute force. "Should we pop smoke and run, sir?" asked one of the soldiers. "No, they hit the barn pretty hard so as far as they know we might be dead. If they see the smoke, they'll fire again and we're toast" answered Bocconcini. The BMP kept racing full speed ahead at the barn, being narrowly missed by munitions from Western tanks. "It stopped firing, sir. I think we're clear" said one of the soldiers. "Probably just reloading. Now's our chance to hit it" ordered Bocconcini. The three men raised from cover and returned to their positions handling the recoilless rifle. "Aim at the fr-- what the? where is it?!" gasped Bocconcini. The BMP kept tearing through the open field, virtually unopposed by any sort of resistance. "I see him! he's gonna hit the barn!" yelled one of the soldiers; the BMP was now only about 100 yards away from the barn, and had its turret aimed straight ahead, getting ready to fire at Bocconcini and his men. 
One of the four soldiers in the barn reached for an M79 grenade launcher resting on the floor. "I'm gonna aim at the tracks!". The soldier fired the grenade launcher and it impacted the BMP, blowing up its right track and bringing it to a halt. "He's down, shoot hi-- Arrgh!" after avoiding certain death by stopping the BMP, the soldier was hit with a sniper bullet to the shoulder. "Damn! Blow up that damn Commie clunker before it fires at us!" Bocconcini ordered to the other soldiers as he tended to the man who had just been shot. "I'll radio in for MEDEVAC. All units on this channel, we have a man down! Request immediate MEDEVAC!" as Bocconcini called for support, a second soldier was hit in the abdomen by a sniper bullet. "We have two men down! There's a sniper taking down friendlies in our position! This is Papa Sierra Six Niner, request immediate MEDEVAC, over!". While Bocconcini was calling for help, the remaining soldier manning the recoilless rifle fired at the BMP; the BMP caught fire and its turret was blown off the top. "Cook those bastards!" he exclaimed, before being hit by yet another sniper bullet. "All units on this channel, this is Papa Sierra Six Niner, I have three men down! I repeat, I have three men down! Request immediate MEDEVAC!" called out Bocconcini. "Papa Sierra Six Niner, this is India Foxtrot One Three, we're sending a MEDEVAC and support team to your position, ETA two minutes, over" replied a Bundeswehr sergeant.
With his old squadmates wounded, Bocconcini faced the onslaught of Soviet armour and infantry with a team of Bundeswehr troops, armed with unfamiliar equipment and speaking a foreign tongue. As far as he was concerned, the only thing they had in common was that they were both fighting the same enemy. But this did not hinder him; he quickly learned to adapt to this sudden change of pace and endured the rest of the battle with people who had the same goal as him: stop the Russians dead in their tracks.
Fighting continued well into the evening. The farmhouse where Driscoll's unit was stranded was still standing, but surrounded by Soviet infantry. From the distance, an Mi-24 Hind fired rockets at a West German armoured column, destroying at least two Leopard tanks. Despite their best efforts, Western forces struggled to fend off the invasion. Within the first few hours of the invasion, NATO forces had sustained 30 casualties. 
The fighting continued for eight bitter hours, ending at 8:23PM after US and West German forces had successfully fended off the first battle with the Soviet Union. 
July 6th, 1979 
2100 hours 
Near Fulda, West Germany 
Aftermath of the first ground battle between the US and the USSR
 Nearly an hour after the Soviet retreat, smoke from the barn where Bocconcini fended off wave after wave of armour clouded the sky. The abandoned farmhouse where Driscoll and his unit had been stranded was miraculously unaffected by the battle, but the surrounding area was still scorching from the firefight. MEDEVAC and CASEVAC helicopters were just taking off from the site of the battle, their crews praying that they won't be shut down by anti-aircraft fire. 
After eight hours of enduring agonizing pain, Usner was now being taken away on board a Huey. As Usner was being loaded on a stretcher, Pike asked the Bundeswehr medic who assisted him "Will he ever walk again?" The medic replied "I cannot say yet, he was shot with a very high calibre bullet, and the kneecap will never fully heal" - "Shit. These fuckers really aren't playing by the rules. They shot one of our guys, and then they wouldn't even let us take him away to safety" said Pike. The medic remained quiet for a few seconds. "I'm sorry" he said. He boarded the helicopter and shut the hatch. The helicopter took off as Pike, Powell and Driscoll watched it take Usner away. "And to think he was only 19. Now he might never walk again" Pike said. "Fucking Commies" replied Powell. 
Meanwhile, Bocconcini sat with his back against some sandbags, with his standard-issue .45 calibre pistol by his side. He pulled out a cigarette and lit it with a safety match. He took one big puff and savoured the sweet taste of his Marlboro Lights. "Never thought this day would come... I guess this is the end of the Cold War?" he thought to himself. 
Powell wandered off from the rest of his squad; less than a day ago, the Hessian countryside was still a quiet landscape, decorated with the occasional timber-frame houses and ancient churches often seen in the front of a postcard. Powell was dumbfounded by the chaos and destruction around him, as he himself had been in the area in the weeks prior to the invasion while he was off-duty. From afar, he saw a sitting figure smoking a cigarette, and decided to approach him.
Bocconcini was approached by a stranger. He wore the same uniform as him, but was a stranger nonetheless. "You want a bogey, man?" he asked. "Sure" replied the stranger, who took the cigarette Bocconcini gave him and lit it with a Zippo. "My name's Nick, Nick Bocconcini" he said. "I'm Simon Powell, you can just call me Powell" replied the stranger. "Rough day at the office?" Nick asked him, and Powell nodded. "Never seen so much fire before" said Powell, before taking a hit of his cigarette. "I reckon you've never been camping then" quipped Bocconcini. "Huh?" replied Powell. "Nevermind, it's a bad joke" replied Bocconcini, "How'd you get up mixed in this business anyway? There ain't no draft anymore". "Well, my future was pretty bleak after high school, and I didn't wanna work where I worked anymore, and after speaking to an Army recruiter I quit my job and enlisted" Powell replied. "Shit, what made you want to enlist? Was your job really that bad?" asked Bocconcini. "Yup" muttered Powell, "I punched my boss, actually". Bocconcini laughed, he slapped his knee and wheezed, "You fucking animal, how'd they let you enlist with that on your record?". Powell replied "He didn't press charges, he knew he was in the wrong and I could probably dig up a lot more dirt on him than he could on me". Bocconcini was amused, "Where the hell were you working?" - "At a carnival midway, I would just let people in the rides and do their seatbelts and whatnot... well, occasionally I did some cleaning but mostly I was just some kind of bouncer" replied Powell. "Yeah, a very short and scrawny bouncer maybe" joked Bocconcini, "but hey, you socked your boss, now you're shooting commies in the face and he's probably cleaning puke off the bumper cars, so I guess you win". "Yeah" chuckled Powell.
The two men continued talking, bonding over a pack of Marlboro Lights and stories from back stateside until their commanding officer rallied the troops in the area. Powell, Bocconcini and a crowd of soldiers stood around their company leader, Captain Otis Huell, who just eleven years ago served in Vietnam and witnessed the massacre of Hue. "Gentlemen, this day marks our first engagement against the Russians. We lost 57 men today, but their sacrifice was not in vain. You held the invasion back and prevented the Russians from encroaching around any nearby towns. We're setting up a new FOB three clicks Northeast from here, following the path the Russians took, so get on the trucks and keep your eyes peeled" - "Yes, sir!".
A convoy of jeeps, two-ton trucks and tank transporters had just arrived at the site. The US Army company boarded the convoy, with Captain Huell taking the passenger seat of one of the trucks. Huell reached for the CB radio and issued an order to his unit, "'Easy' Company, follow my truck to down the road, we'll regroup at the new site, out". The convoy drove away to the new site following the dirt road, which still had fresh tracks from the Soviet armour. 
July 7th, 1979
0100 Hours
Near Fulda, West Germany
US Army V Corps, 'Easy' Company just finished deploying Forward Operating Base 'Echo'
Powell, Pike and Bocconcini were off-duty, giving them an opportunity to meet in one of the tents. Bocconcini asked the two riflemen, "Did you guys get shot by a sniper earlier today?"
:"Oh fuck him!, he had us pinned down in a farmhouse. We had one of our guys wounded from a shot to the knee, and as soon as we got a medic to come patch him up, this asshole shoots at him." replied Pike.
:"No shit, did he get the medic?"
:"No, but he narrowly missed. He was wearing the red cross thing and he still tried to kill him. These assholes aren't playing by the rules, man."
:"He got my whole squad. He shot all three... or at least I think it was the same guy..."
At this point, Powell interjected "Wait, do we know for sure the guy who shot you is the same guy who shot us?". Pike replied "It definitely is, I can guarantee you that, I just know it".