Army Group South Headquarters — Ukraine, July 1941
The map covered almost the entire wall.
In front of it, Heinz Guderian traced lines with a metal pointer. The German movements held steady. The black arrows advanced. But in certain areas—red circles marked by hand—something had stalled.
Or resisted.
Sepp Dietrich stood tall, his uniform impeccable despite the dust of the field.
—"My men have seen it with their own eyes," he said. "A new tank. Faster than the KV. Better protected than any T-model. And with a gun that cuts through our Panzers like butter."
Guderian turned slowly.
—"T-34?"
Dietrich nodded.
—"And KV-1s as well. We've lost two vehicles to direct hits. Ours can't penetrate the front. Only with flanking shots—and luck."
Guderian walked to the table and opened a report. Photos, sketches, crew accounts.
—"How many confirmed cases?"
—"More than twenty encounters. In our sector alone. And they're not prototypes: they're arriving in waves."
The silence in the room was technical, not uncomfortable.
—"What's their speed?" Guderian asked.
—"Comparable to a Panzer III. But more stable. The engine doesn't overheat. And the low profile makes them hard to detect."
—"And your men?"
—"They do what they can. Fire, flank, pray. Experience still wins… but it's not enough."
Guderian closed the report with a firm snap.
—"Then we have a problem."
He walked back to the map and pulled out one of the black pins.
—"Blitzkrieg doctrine was designed for armies that were rigid, slow, disorganized. France, Poland, the Balkans. But this…"
He turned to Dietrich.
—"This is another war."
—"What do you propose?"
—"Recalibrate. Reassess the role of our Panzer divisions. Improve coordination between reconnaissance and heavy units. And above all…"
He rapped his knuckles on the table.
—"A new gun. Long. Accurate. Capable of piercing that armor from the front."
—"On the Panzer IV?"
—"Yes. The chassis can handle it. The current gun can't. If we don't fix that, we'll lose our edge before winter."
Dietrich took a long breath. He didn't argue. He simply nodded. In his mind, the image of the T-34 that kept coming after two direct hits. The black smoke. The burning tank. And the enemy who walked away alive.
—"And the reports to the Führer?"
—"I'll deliver them personally. But we can't wait for orders. We begin designing the change now."
—"And in the meantime?"
Guderian gave a faint smile.
—"In the meantime, we'll keep winning…with insufficient firepower."