Race to Moscow: 1941

You lie in a cot, tossing and turning, trying to doze off after a 36-hour shift of a non-stop hustle and bustle. Orchestrating the deployment of trains with 450 barrels of tank fuel to Proskurov as well as supervising the dispatch of two truck convoys to Odessa, loaded with ammo crates and food supplies, have taken a toll on your appearance. Your haggard, eye-bagged face has acquired yet another trait – a streak of gray hair on your left temple. And the news from Army Group Center, boasting that their tank divisions are already halfway there! Their quartermaster simply cannot be that good! You’re pondering whether it would be right to take a leave of absence is interrupted by a private carrying a message from headquarters – your request for the additional supply of ammunition has been rejected. You dismiss the private with an angry snarl. What are you supposed to resupply the 6th and 17th army with now? Wheat and onions instead of bullets and grenades?