Chapter 1

He continued to run. His squad was already wiped out. Blood, oil, and mud stained his uniform. His 57mm gun was low on ammo. Around him, he could hear many explosions. Shouts from officers trying to get what remains of their men out of the muddy trenches, screams from soldiers being blown to bits, and the clicking and clanking of tank treads. A shell landed near him. He was flung to the right, but he got up again. And he ran. He didn't care that this was a strategic position. He didn't care about his pride. He didn't care that he was a tank. He didn't care that Hitler ordered them not to move back a centimeter. He just HAD to get away from that… thing. That new Russian model was tearing up the Tigers with one shot. He heard another shot. It hit him square in the back. He was flung to the ground. He tried to get up, but a huge foot stomped down on the Panzer III's arm. He could feel the bones in his arm snapping. He let out a scream. The mysterious assailant laughed. Was he enjoying the killing? He grabbed the Panzer III by the neck and threw him at a nearby bunker. The Panzer III tasted blood in his mouth. His vision began to blur, but he could recognize the silhouette of the tank heading towards him. It's an IS-3. He could never beat an IS-3. No wonder his 57mm shells kept bouncing, even when using APCR. The IS-3 transformed into his humanoid form. Bits of armor were placed here and there on his Russian Uniform. He wore an officer's field cap. On his right arm was the IS-3's main armament, the BL-9 122mm gun. The Panzer III smiled.

"Tell me," said the IS-3. "Did you ever think you stood a chance against me?"

"No," replied the Panzer III, "but it was worth a try, right?"

"Better luck next time," said the IS-3. Then he smiled. "Oh wait, there is no next time." He laughed.

And the BL-9 went off with a bang.

Jager lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling. He still found it hard to believe. One moment he was in a plane crashing into a skyscraper. The next moment he was lying in a field with armor on. Better yet, he could transform into a tank, the Panzer IV D. Not exactly his favorite tank, but he liked it all the same. Next to him his roommate Fritz was reading a book. Fritz is a Panzer I C and he got here after getting ran over by a car. Everyone here is the same, except the navy. All the ships in this world are the souls of actual ships. On the wall, there was a picture of Adolf Hitler. It had a knife stabbed through it and had multiple bullet holes. There was a knock at the door.

"Come in," said Jager. The door opened and Hans, a Panzer 38t walked in.

"Hey Jager," said Hans. "The Colonel and the others are playing cards. Want to join them?"

"What are they playing?" asked Jager.

"Blackjack," replied Hans. Jager smiled.

"Sure, I'll join. How about you, Fritz?" asked Jager.

"Hell, why not?" replied Fritz. And the three walked out of their room to the mess hall, where the officers were playing Blackjack. As they walked, Jager looked up as a Bf-109 flew by. He smiled.

"Well, It looks like it'll be another normal day."