Hauptmann Schmidt looked through his binoculars as the sun began to set for the day. They had been shipped to France as a countermeasure after the invasion of Normandy. The allies were sitting there, both sides having a staring contest with each other. Neither had enough strength to attack the other and be sure about winning, so the front was mostly quiet. Schmidt was beginning to retire for the night in his battalion's camp, the 503rd Heavy Armor Battalion. Strangely enough, two rainbows appeared, crossing over each other while maintaining a circular pattern. He watched it slowly coming closer towards him before he realized that it was going towards him and ducked inside the tank. Later in the night, Allied bombers would come and rain death and destruction upon where the battalion once sat, thus causing High Command to think that the battalion had been wiped out by Allied planes.

Schmidt blinked and rubbed his eyes to try and clear away the bright rainbow flash. He looked around and found himself... Somewhere. In fact, other than the Germans, the only other color that was able to be seen was white snow. There was snow stretching as far as the eye could see, which wasn't much due to the blizzard that was currently blowing cold air into his face. His first thought was that he was hallucinating, dreaming or in a coma. Maybe they had been bombed with gas? He dismissed it as there were absolutely nothing man-made that looked like that rainbow he saw earlier. He didn't have much more time to ponder it though, as the radio sprang to life and blared the voices of all his subordinates started trying to make heads or tails of the situation.

"Quiet!" Schmidt gave the nearest tank a glare. "All tank commanders, switch to the command frequency." He briefly ducked his head back into the tank. "Dietrich, switch the radio to the command frequency."

"Yes sir."Dietrich gave him a nod before tuning the radio.

"Thank you." Schmidt turned his attention back to the radio frequency, where it was quiet. His officers had decided to wait for him. "Do any of you know where we are?"

"Negative."

"No sir." This continued for the rest of his officers. His three Oberleutnants, their subsequent three Leutnants and nine Stabsfeldwebels. He sighed, hoping that one of them knew how they got here. 'Well, time to start comparing notes.'

"What did you see before we got transported here?"

Captain Johnson was taking another puff from his cigarette, standing in the commander's cupola of his Sherman tank. His muscles were all tensed up and he was smoking to relieve some stress. Today's gonna be the big day, he thought to himself. He practically jumped into the air when the radio suddenly cackled into life.

"This is Major General Edward Brooks here, Operation Cobra is go, I repeat, Operation Cobra is go."

Johnson radioed his own tank battalion.

"Alright boys! Command has cleared us for Operation Cobra! Let's go!"

Before he could fully move though, he saw what looked like to be a two rainbows crisscrossing in a weird pattern coming straight towards him. He slammed down the hatch instinctively and was waiting for something to happen. He was expecting at least something to happen, when nothing did for a while, he opened the hatch. He was greeting by a snowy landscape.

"What the fucking hell!?"

Schmidt had turned slightly to stare irritably at the radio transmitter. No new information was garnered, those that were not asleep at the time of the magical rainbow saw exactly the same thing as he did, two rainbows going around each other in a strange pattern. One of them did see the two rainbows somehow merge into one that curved slightly towards Schmidt's tank, but that didn't give them any new information. Like the most important one, where in the name of god in heaven were they? Strangely enough, he swore he was hearing English. He turned to look forward again when he realized that he actually did hear English. Because there were fifty Shermans about five hundred metres in front of him. He was about to sound the alarm, but Heinrich, one of his Oberstleutnants, managed to sound it first.

"Alarm!" His voice snapped all of the commanders who didn't notice the Shermans to quickly drop whatever they were doing, usually observing their surroundings, especially the sky for any more merging rainbows. Engines were started, caps pulled up, ammo checked to be stored properly and large amounts of chatter. It ranged from "Did the engine break down again?" to "Damn it Fritz, the engine may be broken, but I don't see how smacking it with your foot will—Oh." It evidently worked, as one of the tanks started up.

"Sir, do we open fire?" Heinrich's question came over the radio and temporarily silenced it as all of the Germans waited for Schmidt to answer.

"I'd rather not. They may know the answers to why we're here. Granted the odds are quite low, but it's a chance we'll take."

"Very well sir." Their turrets were still aimed at the Americans. Any sign of them wanting to fight would be met with 88mm shells.

Johnson rubbed his eyes just in case it was a trick and there weren't enemy Panzers aiming at him. But to his increasing horror, it appeared that it was real. Then the sheer absurdity of the situation hit him. 'So, I've been hit by a magical rainbow... thing and now I'm seeing enemy Panzers. I must be hallucinating or something.' However, just in case the Panzers were real, he opted not to piss them off, since they had seemed to decide not to shoot at him. At least not yet. He took that to be a good sign, since his Shermans would have been absolutely wrecked if they went up against Tiger Is and Tiger IIs.

"Captain! There are Tigers here!" Lieutenant Smith's shouted using the radio, the panic in his voice very clear to Johnson.

"I can seem 'em just fine, Smith!"

"Sir! Do we open fire?" Lieutenant William's voice managed to be clear through all the chatter that was going on between the tank commanders. Mainly about how they would fight the Tigers. Most involved some sort of highly dangerous plan that involved sacrificing a large chunk of the battalion.

"Not yet... They haven't opened fire yet." Johnson saw some movement in the corner of his eye from the German tanks. He grabbed his binoculars and looked through them to see a German tank commander waving his hands at them, before giving up and cupping hands around his mouth to amplify his voice to them.

"Amerikaners! Don't shoot!"

Johnson felt relieved at the fact that the Germans didn't want to shoot at them. He imitated his posture and shouted a reply. "Why?"

"I'd like to know where we are!"

Johnson scratched the Germans doing this on purpose off the list of possibilities. "I have no idea!"

"Can you share your frequency? I don't like shouting this much!" The German was now coughing for a second before recovering and resuming his previous position.

"No way Kraut! I'm not giving you our frequency!"

Schmidt did a mental shrug, 'It was worth a shot I guess.'

"How about we meet in the middle?"

The Amerikaner seemed to consult his radio for a second. "Alright!"

Schmidt grabbed his transmitter and gave his orders. "All tank commanders with the rank of Stabsfeldwebels or above, follow me. The rest of you, keep an eye out for any tricks."

He checked that his Luger was with him in its holster before climbing out onto the snow. Fifteen other German tank commanders mirrored his actions, their boots crunching the snow as they made their way towards the midpoint. Squinting hard, he could make out the Amerikaners also doing the same thing. A few had grabbed Thompsons and were very wary of the Germans. He managed to pick a few bits and pieces of the heated conversation they were having.

The Americans were walking towards the mid-point of the two battalions, the rest of them all aiming their guns at the Germans.

"Are you sure this is a good idea Johnson?" Smith was still highly skeptical about this whole thing. "I mean, this entire thing could be a trap."

"Oh stop being so paranoid Smith," William lightly elbowed Smith. "If they had wanted us dead, they could've done so at any time, from a safe distance with their 88s."

"He's right Smith, those Tigers—" Johnson though back to the stories he heard from tank crews who had witnessed the beasts in battle. "—would have absolutely wrecked us."

"How well would you think the new 76mm Shermans would've done against 'em?" Smith's question sparked a lot of thought in the Americans. "I mean, if they turn out to be untrustworthy, how do hard do you think we would kick their asses?"

"No. We wouldn't have," Johnson pointed his finger at the Panzers, "You see? Those are King Tigers, the rest are Tigers. Now, I'm far from an expert, but what I do know is that that armor is seriously thick. It took the Brits 17-Pounders to reliably penetrate them."

There wasn't much more time to dwell on the facts as they were now at the mid-point.

The Americans sat down and formed a half-circle, Schmidt ordering his men to imitate them. Both sides now formed a circle, except the part where a German sat next to an American, those two tried very hard to avoid eye contact and generally decided to assume that the other person didn't exist.

"Alright Kraut, what do you want?"

"Nothing really, I feel like it is in our best interests to cooperate," Schmidt assumed what he hoped was a disarming gesture, simultaneously noting that the Americans had looked slightly surprised. "We're stuck in the middle of nowhere and we have no knowledge of how we got here save for a magical rainbow."

The American started waving his hands in front of him to try and stop the conversation. "Wait a second, you also saw a rainbow?"

Schmidt added that fact to his mental notebook. "Yes. If you want to be precise, two rainbows that went around each other in a strange pattern, before combining to become one that, according to one of my men, hit my tank."

The Americans were split between looking relieved and looking suspiciously at them. One of the latter spoke up. "Oh, then how do I know if you created it to take us to... Where ever the hell we are?"

"We have no idea how we got here. If you don't believe us, there is no way to prove it." Heinrich waved dismissively at the American. "Besides, if we wanted you dead, we could've done so, from a safe distance."

Schmidt decided to stop the conversation before they provoked the Americans further. "In a sign of my genuine interest towards cooperation, I will order my men to disarm themselves." He turned his focus onto the Germans beside him. "All of you, disarm. Place your weapons in front of you." They were halfway through opening their mouths when Schmidt stopped them. "Trust me, I know what I'm doing." At least, he hoped so. The American's were all surprised when the Germans started putting down their weapons, preferably in positions that wouldn't get snow into any important parts. Most of them took it as a sign of trust, while a few took it as a chance for them to turn the tables around.

Smith was one of the latter and he whispered in Johnson's ear. "We could take them right here and make quite a few tanks lose their commanders."

Johnson, however, was one of the former. "Really? You're still thinking about that? Look, they've disarmed themselves and you want us to shoot them? They've had absolutely no reason to disarm, but they did, just so they show that they trust us." He turned back towards the Germans. "Alright. My name is Johnson, this is Smith, Williams, Wilhelm, my lieutenants." He pointed at each person as he said their name, and Wilhelm added a nice remark of, "Don't shoot at me."

"Very well. I am Hauptmann Schmidt, these are Oberstleutnants Heinrich, Otto and Hans." He pointed at the German that had responded to Smith, another one that seemed to be looking past them somewhere off into the distance, while the last one had an absolutely impeccable poker face. He would hate to have to play cards with that guy.

"So, any plans?" Schmidt's response was to tilt his head slightly to the side before using his finger to tap his chin.

"As of now? Find the nearest civilization. Barring that, find the nearest place where we can reasonably set up camp." Johnson shrugged at the response.

"Alright, so do we just pick a direction and go?" Johnson started scanning the horizon while Otto tapped Schmidt on the shoulder and whispered into his ear, whatever he could pick out was German, so he couldn't understand a word that was being said. He mentally added 'Learn German' to his to-do-list. Otto pointed in a seemingly random direction.

"Otto says that we should go that way," Schmidt clarified, "It's apparently less snowy."

"Why would he know that?" Smith gestured towards Otto, "It's not like he has a weather map in his head." Then his eyes narrowed. "Or, you Germans do know where we are and are deliberately withholding information from us."

"He's an Austrian. He's had experience with snow, since he used to live near the Alps." Otto nodded his head, evidently understanding English too. "Besides, I trust his judgement. Better than the absolute nothing we have right now."

"Alright then. Get back to your tanks and relay the orders. We move out in..." Johnson looked towards Schmidt for an answer.

"Five minutes." Johnson mentally estimated how long that would be and nodded.

"Five minutes it is. Get to it!" The Americans stood up, grabbed their weapons and started returning back to the tanks. "Now, do you mind us sharing a frequency?"

"Very well. Short range 50 MegaHertz. I suppose you don't have any channels with this frequency?"

"Hmm..." Johnson though if there were any channels using this frequency. He came up with zero. "It's fine."

"That is good. I shall establish contact soon." Schmidt stood up, wiped off some snow and seemingly started shouting orders in German, causing the Germans to pick up their weapons and begin returning to their tanks at a brisk pace. Schmidt nodded his head at Johnson before pivoting and joining his men while Johnson started to jog back to his own tank.

"Hello? Amerikaner? Can you hear me?" Schmidt was holding his radio transmitter, testing if the channel worked.

"Hear you loud and clear! So, let's get this show on the road!" The American tanks started up and began moving the direction that Otto previously pointed out.

Schmidt gave Dietrich a thumbs up to confirm the channel was good before switching back to the German frequency. "All units, move out, follow Oberstleutnant Otto."

Otto's tank rolled to the front of the formation, leading the way for the rest, Schmidt and Johnson were slightly behind him, while the Germans and Americans weren't in a highly organised formation, they still generally maintained two separate groups, each trailing slightly behind their respective leader.

"Do you actually have an idea of where the German's leading us, Captain?" Johnson looked behind him at Smith's tank.

"Well, Smith, I have absolutely no idea."

"How do you know this isn't a trap?' Johnson facepalmed again while those who were on the American channel sighed in private.

"You know Smith, you could tone down the suspicion," William was using his hand to support his head and resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "If they seriously wanted us dead, we would've been. Get that through your thick skull."

Smith wisely decided to shut up.

"Otto, we getting anywhere?" Schmidt scanned the nearby areas just one more time to check. "All I've been seeing for a while is snow and ice." He did notice that the ice looked slightly more reflective than what was usual, but it was pretty unnecessary information that he just decided must have something to do with weird rainbows.

"Hauptmann, we are going to be exiting the snowy area soon," Otto looked down and thought a while for a second, "At least, that's what experience has taught me."

"Well, it'd better be soon, I didn't pack enough clothes for this." The experience of not packing enough clothes and snowy areas reminded him of Unternehmen Barbarossa and the absolute hell the Soviet Union was.

"Okay... What the hell is that?" Johnson lowered his binoculars, gesturing towards the strange sight. "The only parts that somewhat make sense to me is that it resembles a castle."

"Ja. It is a very strange sight indeed." Schmidt also lowered his Diestenglas binoculars. "It is built onto a cliff. That's going to be very hard to assault, the narrow roads leading up to it would be an effective choke point."

"The weird twisted spirals don't exactly help things," William continued to look at the weird place using his binoculars. "Gotta admit though, looks kinda pretty."

"Doesn't look to be made by Germans." Smith's comment prompted raised eyebrows from the Germans and rolling of eyes from the Americans. "What? It's the truth!"

"Ja, he is correct. This seems too emphasised on beauty and grace. It is somewhat practical, with the cliffs and all that. However, if its foundations are damaged enough, the entire thing might collapse down the mountain. Though I'd suppose that they'd be smart and reinforce it." Hans gestured towards the foundations of the weird city.

"There's a railway track leading out from there, maybe we'll gain more answers than just sitting here and looking at it." All of them stopped to look at Wilhelm for a second before mentally agreeing that he was correct.

The captains and lieutenants left one lieutenant behind to make sure the men didn't do anything stupid while they all drove forward to take a closer look at the railway tracks.

Johnson and Schmidt decided to defer to Wilhelm on this one as they were way out of their depth.

"Hey, King Tiger, drive your heavy ass onto one side of the tracks." Wilhelm pointed at one of the Tiger tanks and then pointed at the tracks. Hans looked at Schmidt for a second and Schmidt nodded his head. The moment one of the Tiger's tracks went over the rails, the section deformed. Wilhelm waved away the Tiger and while Hans made a slightly annoyed look, he ordered his driver to move off the tracks. Wilhelm took one look and, muttering something about iron, spoke his calculations. "The rails seem to be made out of wrought iron, indicated by the deformation. Meaning that they haven't invent steel production, or at least on a massive industrial scale."

The Germans all had raised eyebrows and pretty stunned expressions, or for Schmidt, one of approval. While for the Americans, their jaws had malfunctioned, William looking at him as if he were an alien, while Johnson whistled in admiration.

"Huh. Didn't know you could know so many things from rails." Johnson looked at the tracks before looking back at Wilhelm. "Hey, any other tricks you can learn from this?"

"Well, if their rails are wrought iron, then the best a train car could carry was eight tons, meaning that supplies and resources cannot be transported in large bulks, especially heavy materials."

"Well, learn something new everyday now don't we?"

"Wait a second. If their rails are wrought iron... The last wrought iron rails were produced in 1880!" Everyone looked at Wilhelm for a second before trying to think of why they were in 1880 and what the year 1880 meant.

"Alright... We'll sort this out later." Schmidt told his driver to return to the battalion, the rest doing the same and following him back.

Slightly later, Schmidt was standing on top of his tank, looking in the general direction of the tank battalions.

"Our current objective is to observe the local population. Do not be seen observing them, and if you do get seen, notify me or Johnson immediately." Schmidt repeated the message again for the Germans who didn't speak English. He really didn't care if the Americans followed his orders, just as long as they followed Johnson's, it would the same to him. And by the looks of things, they weren't going to follow them. He mentally shrugged. "Is this clear?"

The Germans responded with a resounding "Ja!" While the Americans mostly kept silent. 'Well, I guessed it would be that way.' thought Schmidt. Leaving Johnson to deal with his own men, he began using his notebook to assign patrol schedules to his men. Schmidt's method of guarding involved multiple redundant overlapping fields of vision and patrol times, meaning that absolutely anything would be spotted, even if they managed to evade the first patrol, the second patrol would be in visual range of the first one. However, this system meant that Schmidt's patrol area was much smaller, but he estimated that it would work for the small amount of men they had. He was engrossed in the assigning of positions when he heard Johnson start to speak.

"Men. I don't know how we got here, nor if we are going to get out." He looked up and stared into the faces of his soldiers. "But one goddamn thing is certain. We're doing this together. Now, I'm not asking you to get all buddy buddy with the Germans, even the most friendly of us wouldn't manage that, but you will tolerate their existence. They are not our enemies. Do you understand?" Johnson looked at all of his tank commanders, lingering longer on Smith.

"Sir, yes sir!" The tank commanders all saluted Johnson.

"Good. I want you lot to assign patrols around the perimeter. I don't care what you do, as long as you patrol it." Johnson got back into his tank, Schmidt mentally questioning his decision of allowing the men to choose their own times, then shrugged and continued making patrol times. 'American Democracy.' he thought to himself.

Heinrich had been assigned the first patrol, while the Americans were arguing over who would get the better timeslots. Heinrich didn't exactly approve of this timeslot, it was slightly too early for him, but he was practical enough to know that the method got stuff done. It had the added benefit of everyone knowing what they were doing. Schmidt had weighted the direction facing the city with a lot more troops than the rest of the areas, with much less being assigned to the other areas. Although he had required all tank crews patrolling areas not within visual range of the city not use the Panzers, to conserve fuel and those patrolling the city to use fuel sparingly. This at least meant that he could turn on the engine if he didn't want his arse to freeze off, unlike the poor crews assigned to walk in snow with nothing but their guns and whatever kits they had on them. He snapped out of his temporary reverie and refocused his attention to the city. Like he was supposed to be doing.

He looked slightly above the city and was surprised to find what looked like a golden chariot being pulled by winged horses with gold armor arrive at the city. He froze for a second as his brain tried to process what he just saw. Deciding to make sure he wasn't going crazy, he grabbed the transmitter.

"Feldwebel—" He put his hand on his head as he tried to remember which particular commander had been assigned in the overlapping timeslot. He dropped his hand when he managed to think of the Feldwebel's name "—Klaus, are you focusing on your assigned sector?" He looked to a bit over to his left where he technically should be according to Schmidt's assigned spots. He managed to spot the turret of the tank sticking out from his hulled down position, found courtesy of Schmidt's thorough inspection of the local area.

"Yes, Oberstleutnant!" Heinrich noticed the tank commander turning himself to look in his direction. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, have you seen a golden chariot fly past? Pulled by white winged horses wearing golden armour?" Heinrich felt slightly silly for asking, but he needed to verify just in case.

"Yes sir, I did see the golden chariot, but not the winged horses wearing golden armour. I did however see what looked like a dark blue horse on it. Sorry for not mentioning it, I thought it looked absolutely ridiculous."

"Very well, I shall report this." He lowered the transmitter from his mouth temporarily.

"Stefan, switch to the command frequency." Stefan twisted some knobs on the radio and nodded at Heinrich. "Danke, Stefan."

"Hauptmann, we've received our first visual of the local inhabitants."

Princess Luna was riding the chariot her sister had arranged for her to take back to Canterlot, Celestia having some extra duties to carry out in Ponyville, namely calm down the panic over her disappearance. Luna was initially overawed by the railroads and all sorts of new technology that had managed to be invented over 1000 years. One of these railroads had been leading from Ponyville to Canterlot. She was slightly confused at the oddly shaped rocks, them being slightly more square and less round than what she'd expected to be boulders, but she dismissed it as something new that had appeared during her banishment. Besides, she had many more worries than just a few oddly-shaped boulders.

Author's Note

There are a few historical notes for this.
1. The 5th Armor Battalion does not exist, and was not at France during 1944 because it didn't exist.
2. Technically, Lieutenant Colonels are supposed to be in command of a Battalion, not a Captain, which is two ranks down.
3. A Captain IS, however, second-in-command of a Battalion. Or he could be commanding a company.