"Gentlemen," Reinhardt said. "We are not in Normandy any more."

The other members of the tank crew chuckled. "Tell us something we don't know!" Michael shouted.

Reinhardt raised his hand, quieting the men down. "We are not in Normandy," he said, "But we are still soldiers. We have been summoned to this place by the Shining Prince Arios. It is our duty to fight for the Bright Elves of the Ivory Kingdom, just as we would have fought for our Fatherland. Now, my friends, we will ride together. On our steed of steel, let us crush the degenerate hordes of the Cave-Dwellers and bring the light of reason and civilization to this world!"

The five SS Panzertruppen rose to their feet, shouting. Quickly, they boarded their Tiger tank. Diesel engine roaring to life, they charged into battle, the shining armies of blue-eyed, golden-haired elves riding beside them on white steeds.

Up ahead, Reinhardt could see the fortifications of the Dwarves: tall walls of stone and wood, proof against any catapult or trebuchet. "Hans!" he shouted. "Load high explosive!"

Hans had been Reinhardt's loader throughout the North Africa campaign: he had the heavy shell loaded and ready before Reinhardt had finished giving the order. "Aim for the gates!" he shouted. "FIRE!" He gave Albrecht a hard kick to the shoulder, and the gunner slammed the trigger. The 88mm roared, and the Dwarven gates buckled with the impact of the mighty tank cannon.

Reinhardt ducked back into the turret as Dwarven crossbow bolts pinged against the Tiger's armor. "Load a second round and fire again!" he shouted.

It was then that a loud roaring sound echoed through the hot, sweaty confines of the Tiger tank. Reinhardt saw Hans screaming in pain as flames washed across him. He could see fire. . . FIRE! licking across the ammunition stores. Impossible! The dwarves don't have anything that can penetrate our armor!

Panic and terror gave him strength. He pulled himself out of the hatch just as a second explosion rocked the invincible Tiger tank, cracking through its soft underbelly and causing flames to shoot from every port and vent.

Reinhardt collapsed to the ground and began crawling away from the burning tank. As he did, he was halted by the distinctive sound of a Thompson submachinegun being cocked.

"Hello there, Fritz," said the American. Reinhardt looked up into the face of a grinning American Ranger holding a Thompson submachinegun. Standing behind him were two others: one with an M1 Garand rifle, the other with a bazooka lazily resting across his shoulder.

It was then that Reinhardt realized he wasn't the only one who'd been summoned from the hedgerows of Normandy.