Prologue: Armoured Warfare
AN: Just understand right now that whatever names, companies, etc. I use is completely coincidental and that I own nothing in this fic, except my OC's. Anything I describe in this fic is done to the best of my abilities, and you can debate me anytime in the comments, whether or not the described actions or impacts actually damage such things, and what will happen. Understand that this fic will be to the best of my abilities, completely realistic, and that Deus Ex Machina will not happen frequently. OC's and Main Characters WILL DIE in this fic, It may divert from the main storyline, and will contain spoilers. READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!
"Davies's Unconscious!"
"Henry, LOAD THE GODDAM' SHELL!"
I picked up the shell from the floor of the captured Tiger Tank and loaded it into the Cannon Breach, shutting almost immediately. The steel insides smell of blood, oil, and iron, with the engine heating up the entire compartment. John in the driver's seat, trying to get us moving out of the mud we've sunk into. Dmitry, the only man of Russian descent I've ever known, manning the gun, While Bradley, a stuck-up Brit, was trying to get us some support from the division.
When we got the tank, only a month earlier, we thought we'd be invincible. The only reason we got it was because we were the closest to it when a howitzer hit the track and shut down the whole tank in the middle of the battle. The Germans inside jumped out the hatch and ran away when we showed up in the metal coffin that is the M2 Sherman. After towing it to the base near the border of Tunisia and Morocco, George Patton, the big man himself, wrote a personal order to allow us to use the tank. Having 23 dead tanks and 14 88's under our belts, he thought we'd be good enough for the tank.
Enuff' Said.
The King Tiger, as many nicknamed it, couldn't be killed unless you'd surrounded or outgunned it. The frontal armor exceeded 100mm, but there was a problem. The armor wasn't sloped. You'd think the Germans, in all of their tanking ingenuity, would've taken a hint from the Russians and sloped their armor. If they'd done that, the Tiger would've been invincible.
Right now, it wasn't counting for Scheiβe.
Track knocked off, fuel tanks leaking, Engine dead, we're stuck behind enemy lines just waiting to be shot. Indeed, artillery was landing all around us as the Germans tried to kill us. We were frantically moving around the tank trying to get it moving. An engine fire had already crippled us, and I was trying to get it back on. Tightening the last bolt, I yelled to John, "Engines fixed! Turn the damn thing on!" He yanked the ignition bolt, and the Tiger roared to life. Two more shells hit the front of the tank, and 3 hit the turret mantlet, The side of the turret, and the right side of the Tiger, respectively.
"WhooHoo!" we all whooped in happiness as we drove backwards out of the battlefield!
"WAIT! The TRACKS! Drive forward, I'll get outside to fix them." I ordered.
I jumped out the tank through the hatch, and-
"Wat?"
"Dieter, get the turret moving, Klaus, load the gun! Michael, get us out of here!"
"Yes, Sergeant!" I shout, in unison with my crewmates, pushing the tank to the absolute limit. The mud sunk us in as the Russians pushed up to the hill, leaving us here.
It's still very funny how we completely missed the million Soviet troops running to surround us. I had nothing against them, yet here I was, driving a tank to kill and destroy the entirety of one of their famous cities, Stalingrad.
The deafening roar of the 75mm gun drowned out the sound of the Soviets T-34's as the nearest one exploded in a tornado of glistening flames. The tank shook as the Russians shot their cannons at us, one glancing of the turret. Acting quickly, Klaus loaded another shell, and I twisted the tank to the right.
Just in time too, as a shell ricocheted off the left side of the tracks, and another again off the turret. Throwing it into full reverse, we finally dislodge from the hilltop, and slid down the hill, tumbling all the way, till we slammed to a stop.
"Sergeant, I can't see anything, where are we?!"
"Verdammnt, having to do everything for these incompetent babies." Heinrich mumbles, drunker than a Russian in a vodka factory.
"Michael, come up here."
"Comrade, Put out the fire!"
Grabbing the cold metal handle of the extinguisher, I ripped the pin off, just like a grenade, pointed the nozzle, and tried to extinguish the engine fire. The cramped compartment of the T-34E was not forgiving, and in seconds I was coughing more smoke than a German Tiger malfunctioning.
Finally stopping the fire, I put myself to work trying to fix the engine. This wouldn't take too long, having to fix this very engine many times, usually with duct tape.
Lots and lots of duct tape.
"Andrei, how is the engine?"
"Fuel tank punctured, I can't stop it. I suggest we stop and collect the fuel before we start the engine." I report. "Unacceptable, we have to get to the front, no question." "Vitaly, do you want to get to the front, or explode before even arriving?"
He mulled this over, and finally resigned himself to defeat. "Ugh, The commandant will have our heads. Do what you must, I give you no more than 10 minutes."
I grab the duct tape, and seal the hole, before going to collect the spilt gasoline all over the floor. It reached into the ammunition racks, so I was happily collecting it. The stench of gasoline filled my nostrils, and I wrinkled at it, while everyone impatiently waited for the 10 minutes to be up.
Cupping the last of the gasoline, I poured it back into the fuel tank. "Finished." Was my only answer to the rest of the crew, as they sighed in relief. I could understand, they were anxious to get to the fighting and wanted to kill the German Invaders. I should hold more hate than anyone else here for them.
Reaching into my breast pocket, I pull out the last photo I took. On it, a woman with blonde hair and warm brown eyes, as if nothing could ever freeze them, not even the harshest Siberian winter, laid in bed, a child cuddling her side as if freezing, almost a copy of the older woman.
Blood splattered the top right corner of the picture, dried-out, its dark burgundy color blurring the mirror, which had a flash, as if something was shining.
Mother…
The cannon firing tore me from reminiscing as the tank finally rumbled onto the battlefield, armed and ready to wreak the revenge against the Wehrmacht for all of our comrades. The tracks clanked as we rolled past a small hill.
"Two Panzers, 2 o'clock! Tiger, 11 o'clock. Target the Tiger! Distance: 200 meters, Angle: 2 degrees, Fire at will!" Vitaly screamed.
Thankfully, I was simply the engineer of the tank. If anything, I was simply the extra man we had after Vitaly wanted to assist the gunner. My skills in keeping this tank together earned me a spot in the back of the tank, where a couple of shells were, before we moved them under the commander's cupola.
The T-34E, armed with the new and improved F-34, 76mm cannon that I have had to fix so many times, I could probably do it blind. I still don't know why the engineers had it stick out when you could just extend the length of the turret, but when I asked, they just told me 'production time'.
4 shots rang from the far side of the hilly field as explosions rang around us. One shot rang off the front armor, ricocheting off the turret.
"We can't move the turret!" reports Grigory, the main gunner.
"Get out of the way. For now, just turn the tank, I'll get to work fixing it." Was the only order uttered as I ripped the turret connector plate off and inspected the ball bearings. Finding what I wanted, I ripped a chunk of lead off from between the ball-bearings that spin the turret.
"It's ready to fire!" I report, hearing the blast as gunpowder was ignited to propel a piece of lead capped with explosives at over 600m/s towards an enemy tank, which exploded, my guess being we hit the ammunition racks.
Three shots flew past us, with one slamming into the gun's mantlet. An explosion happened outside, and Dima fell over.
I grab what few supplies we have, and drag him out of the loaders chair, blood staining his shirt red. A HEAT shell, a formidable round, had deflected off the turret, but not before exploding and pushing a piece of steel into his stomach. I patch the wound with a kerchief, tie it to him with some duct tape, and get into the loaders chair. Grabbing a shell, I open the breach, and throw the shell into the gaping maw of the cannon, shutting the breach.
A loud bang ricocheted off the track, followed by another into the back. The tank shuddered to a halt, smoke wafting from the back.
"Sergeant, they hit the engine and transmission! We're shut down!" Dima reports, inspecting the damage while holding an arm to his stomach.
"Fucking cyukas! Andrei, get to the back, I'll see if anything is around. Hopefully the German whores think we're dead, otherwise this is goodbye."
I crouch under the opening to the engine compartment, grabbing the last extinguisher in case of a fire, and see the transmission.
It was a mangled mess. The cannon shot tore through and dragged the transmission with it, warping it beyond repair. Our only hope now is to get a new one or a replacement. The engine was fine, just shaken enough to dislodge it from its rivets and bolts.
As I got to work, I heard Vasily say, for the first time, the two words I never thought I'd hear.
"My God."
Further in the Future…
"Dr. Porsche, how are the Maus coming along." Herr Hitler asks.
"Simply splendid! The three prototypes are coming along as planned, and the testing is wunderbar! I can have them operational within the month." The good doctor responds.
"I would like to see them in action, Doktor, but first, a demonstration."
"Certainly, Mein Fuhrer. Friedrich, round up the rest of your crew, we're going to show the Fuhrer the tank that will save our Reich."
"Yes, Doktor." Was my only response.
I knew this war was almost over. I knew this fight would end in Germany's defeat, and the fall of the Reich, yet here I was, testing the last thing that could possibly save our livelihood from total ruin once the Russians arrive.
Reaching the unfinished Maus halls, I walk over to the barracks. Opening the metal hinged door, I waved to our driver, Ralf, as everyone else was asleep. With silence befitting an SS assassin, he got off his top bunk, and shook awake the loader, whose eyes shot open, grabbing Ralf by the neck.
"uhck..it's..me..id..iot." he gets out, before Jurgen lets his Iron Grip off of his neck.
Jurgen was named Iron for one reason; he could bench 230kgs normally. His strength helps in moving the 128mm rounds into the cannon breach, something that would take a normal man too long, and his speed is impressive as well, though his sheer size was enough to get him into the program. Jurgen quickly get out of his bunk, before tapping our commander, Wilhelm, out of his drunken stupor. He was able to sneak in a bottle of whiskey into the camp, and with the successful testing of the new super-tank, he had offered to share with the rest of us, to which we declined, since we didn't want to be reprimanded. He had no such qualms, and proceeded to spend the rest of the night drinking the last of the bottle. This morning, I just got up, picked up the bottle, and threw it into the forest, hoping to remove it from sight and from mind.
Once we were able to shake him awake, they all got ready for their jobs. Jurgen began with weights, hoping to wake up the sleepy muscles. Wilhelm proceeded to get changed and wrap his hands in bandages. I just sat there, waiting for them to finish. Ralf, however, never saw the need for this, and sat alongside me.
"So, Friedrich, just how were you able to get here, you fast twig of a man?" He interrogates, a sneer on his face seeing a man that doesn't meet the SS's standards for a soldier.
"57 confirmed kills, 89 hits, and the rank of lieutenant, you jackass." I respond in kind. While we worked together, we didn't have to like each other, we just had to work. Ralf had no such experience, while I had worked with General Rommel in North Africa, and with the Forth Army to the east. I had joined the war after the fall of France, and certainly had no qualms in killing. My only wish was to know why we killed. Hitler had said it was for Germany, The SS said it was for the Aryan race. I figured this was pure propaganda, and I realized the real truth.
They all did it because they could do it. There was no other reason for it. They did it simply because they wanted to prove to the world that they had the power to do these actions that horrified the masses, that they held enough hatred in their hearts to truly change the world in this way.
And I just waited to see the world burn.
The rest of them finished, and I moved out to the tank, entering the turret. I got into the gunners seat, and calibrated the horizontal and vertical turret drives. Checking the ammunition racks, I see we're loaded with 34 shells, all of them Armor-Piercing, Hi-Explosive Ballistic Capped shells. The electronics work just fine, while the engine started up. Everyone got inside the tank, and finally achieving approval, we took off, achieving 9m/s, while I swiveled the turret to the right 45˚. When we finally got to the open field, I took aim for a dummy T-34's turret. The cannon shot, and 2 seconds later, the tank detonated, the dummy turret flying into the air with a graceful arc. We kept moving through the track, before I heard whistling.
I look up to see a silhouette of a plane flying by, a blot dropped fast.
"Bomb!" I yell, everyone bracing themselves for the shockwave.
We'd heard of the new bombs. One was enough to destroy a piece of the U-Boat pens, thought to be near-indestructible.
We didn't even hear the explosion.
"You idiot, what are you doing, trying to scare us? Ralf, keep us driving."Jurgen orders.
"Uhh, where are we?
A/N:I thought of inputting more characters, but over the 3 crews, I wouldn't be able to keep track of them. I didn't do much research on soldiers or names, I just went off of the amount of knowledge I've gained from the great wellspring of info that is the Internet(cue Hallelujah).