Imagine yourself in Nazi Germany during World War 2. But not in the
bunkers, the trenches, or the buildings. But in the forests surrounding an
open field, or in a roadside clump of trees. But not with an MP 40 or a
Panzerschreck. The German High Command thinks that your background with
automobiles is too valuable for just any pea-shooter. No, you are given
command of a tank. But not just any tank. No, you are given the pride of
the German Warmacht, A PzKpfw VI Tiger I Heavy Battle Tank. With an 88mm
KwK L/56 Main gun and 2 supporting 7.92 MG 34 machine guns, one of which is
co-axial with the main armament, you feel that you could take on the world.
And if it weren't for the Maybach HL 230 P 45 ZV-12 water-cooled inline
petrol engine being over-stressed with the 55,000kg load, you probably
could. But since the German High Command continues to deny your requests
for a better engine, you are stuck with picking off the highly-inferior
tanks of the U.S. and "Great Britain". For example, yesterday, there were 3
US Shermans coming up the road in single file from the shores of Normandy.
They didn't even bother to check the trees, the crews were so green. You
fired off a round from your position in a clump of trees overlooking the
road into the lead Sherman's soft, thin side armor, killing the crew and
immobilizing it. The other two immediately bolted towards the nearest clump
of trees next to the road. You were able to shoot another round at a
Sherman before they made it and you lost sight of them. Kind of
unfortunate, because the main gun barrel really needed a couple more white
bands around it. You listen with satisfaction, knowing that the two
Shermans are heading right into a trap of two 75mm Pak 40's, which could
penetrate 90 degree, 132 mm of armor at 500 meters. You hear 2 loud
'thumps' as they fire, along with the clatter of small arms fire as the
crews try to get out of their immobilized tanks, only to get cut down by
the supporting infantry.
You open the commander's hatch, mentioning to your crew that you are going
to the knocked out tanks to see if you could scavenge some materials, or
maybe even a radio set. You reach back into your compartment and grab your
screwdriver in the hopes that the radio isn't welded in place. You start to
walk down the hill, wondering why here, of all places, the war has to
ravage the beauty of this land. Making your way to the first Sherman, you
notice the white stripe across the turret, which landed upright about 2
meters from the body, which happens to look very peculiar. You shrug it
off, knowing what could very possibly be smeared around the inside of it.
You make it to the hull of the Sherman, but there is a fire licking the
insides of it, making any scavenging attempts futile.
You make your way over to the other two Shermans, noticing the various
brown and red clumps surrounding it. Putting first things first, you go
over to meet your comrades on foot, led by Hans, an old classmate of yours.
You exchange greetings, and then he asks you what you are doing away from
your tank. You respond that you are out looking for spare parts you can
borrow from the Americans, since they won't be needing them any more. He
laughs, telling you that he doesn't think so, either. You look back at the
tanks, seeing the foot soldiers just now going over the dead bodies and
picking out the valuables, a gun that they like, the medals that one of
them might be wearing. One of the foot soldiers enters the tank, and then
suddenly screams something about the driver.
You run over to the knocked out tank and peer in through a hole in the
front of the tank, and sure enough, the driver is alive, sitting up and
grabbing his leg, which seems to be stuck between a piece of the hull and
his seat. You get up and enter the commander's cupola and move to the hull
Machine gunners position. You look around the hull, in case that there
might be a weapon of some sort that he could grab, but you only find a Colt
45 pistol in a compartment to the right of the gunner. You pick it up and
hand it to the various spectators outside of the tank hull. You finally
look at the face of the driver, who was staring at your coat, looking at
the medals as they moved around. He looks at you, and you look at him. You
blink, then start to pat him down, searching for any other weapons that he
might have hidden on himself. Your hand passes over a hard spot on his
right hip. You reach in, and take out his wallet, which he oddly still had
with him. You open it, and notice a photograph of a beautiful young lady
sitting on a bar stool in front of a window. You take it out and show it to
him, your index finger tapping the front of it.
The driver coughs, "My....wife." He takes the photograph and holds it.
You think for a little bit, weighing the pro's and con's of your actions. Making your decision, you raise his arms out the hatch above him and inspect his leg. There is moderate bleeding where the hull cuts into his leg, but other than that, he will be fine. You put your finger on the wound, thinking that it might slip out with the right amount of force. You look out the hatch and ask if anyone has a knife. A small man says he does and gives one to you. You inspect it, turns out to be a Hitler Youth knife. Shrugging, you bend down and place it between the American's leg and the hull of the Sherman. You pull back on the knifed handle, creating a loud wail from the American and a little space between his leg and the hull. You look, but a piece of the hull moves out from inside his leg, making more blood pour out from the wound as you come to the conclusion that you couldn't free him without ruining his leg. You ask the spectators for his pistol again, and upon receiving it, you point it at the American's chest. His eyes widen as he realizes that this could be the end for him. You shift your aim and fire at the bone in the man's leg, bringing about a loud scream from the American and a broken leg. You take the knife and cut off the American's leg as he continues to scream. You ask your fellow comrades if they would be so kind as to lift the man out and bring him to the burning Sherman. As they lift the screaming American out of the tank, you climb out and run to the burning tank. When the infantry arrives with the American, you take his bleeding leg in your hands and push it against the hull of the still-burning tank. The American gives a short scream and passes out, much to the relief of the infantry. You hold the leg against the hull until it ceases to bleed. You then ask the infantry's medic to take care of the wound. He questions you, asking why you are saving an American dog. You tell him, in blunt terms, that if he doesn't obey, he will be on trial for disobeying a direct order. He complies, reluctantly, and takes out his medical pack and gets to work. You leave and put your hands in your pockets, feeling the screwdriver, you remember what you wanted to do and walk to the pair of Sherman tanks. You make it to a Sherman and immediately hop in to inspect what was left of the engine and the radio. The engine was, of course, completely shot; the only thing that could possibly be used was the muffler, which was probably worthless anyway. But the SCR528 Push button, FM, voice operated radio was in fairly good condition, considering what a literal hell it went through and how it could have been hit with shrapnel. You took out your screwdriver and was beginning to take it off when Hans came up to the tank, peered in, and asked you why you want to save the poor Allied dog. You look at him and think for a while before answering that you have a wife, and at the end of this war you would like to go back to her again. He shakes his head in disgust, saying that your greatest duty is to the fatherland, not to some woman back home. You think about punching him right now, but no, it is not good for moral if you beat up your underlings. Besides, he's your old friend, and does a man normally beat up his old friends? You turn back to the radio and continue to unscrew it from the hull. Upon getting the last screw, you tilt the radio forwards to see where the battery is. You see a cord running from the back of the radio to the engine. Great, just what you needed, an extra battery to carry around. Oh well, a little less space won't hurt. You unhook the radio from the battery and start to push it out the commander's hatch when you see the manual for it. You figure, what the heck, and grab that, too. You get out through the driver's door, reach up, and grab the radio. You lift up the radio and carry it to the Tiger, being careful not to drop it, when you pass by the medic. You ask him about the American, and he replies that he will do fine, and he is currently at their camp. You thank him, then continue to carry the radio to your tank. When you finally reach it, there is a clothesline strung up behind the tank between two lone trees. The hull gunner is in his seat, reading a letter from his girl, the driver is in the commander's chair looking through the telescope, and the other two are on their cots outside playing a game of cards. Home sweet home. You set down the radio behind the tank and start to walk off, when the radioman asks where you got that. You tell him that you got it from one of the two disabled Sherman tanks. He asks if he can set it up and tinker with it. You tell him of course he can, and that you got it just for him. He thanks you and runs over to it, leaving the cards on the cot. You walk back to the small forest of trees by the road and into the camp of the supporting infantry. You ask Hans, who was sitting on a log, whittling on a stick with his knife, where the American is, and he points you to a tree on the outskirts of the camp. You get there, and you see that he is partially chained to a tree with one lone guard watching him. An absolute outrage, we are not in the Middle Ages anymore!
The driver coughs, "My....wife." He takes the photograph and holds it.
You think for a little bit, weighing the pro's and con's of your actions. Making your decision, you raise his arms out the hatch above him and inspect his leg. There is moderate bleeding where the hull cuts into his leg, but other than that, he will be fine. You put your finger on the wound, thinking that it might slip out with the right amount of force. You look out the hatch and ask if anyone has a knife. A small man says he does and gives one to you. You inspect it, turns out to be a Hitler Youth knife. Shrugging, you bend down and place it between the American's leg and the hull of the Sherman. You pull back on the knifed handle, creating a loud wail from the American and a little space between his leg and the hull. You look, but a piece of the hull moves out from inside his leg, making more blood pour out from the wound as you come to the conclusion that you couldn't free him without ruining his leg. You ask the spectators for his pistol again, and upon receiving it, you point it at the American's chest. His eyes widen as he realizes that this could be the end for him. You shift your aim and fire at the bone in the man's leg, bringing about a loud scream from the American and a broken leg. You take the knife and cut off the American's leg as he continues to scream. You ask your fellow comrades if they would be so kind as to lift the man out and bring him to the burning Sherman. As they lift the screaming American out of the tank, you climb out and run to the burning tank. When the infantry arrives with the American, you take his bleeding leg in your hands and push it against the hull of the still-burning tank. The American gives a short scream and passes out, much to the relief of the infantry. You hold the leg against the hull until it ceases to bleed. You then ask the infantry's medic to take care of the wound. He questions you, asking why you are saving an American dog. You tell him, in blunt terms, that if he doesn't obey, he will be on trial for disobeying a direct order. He complies, reluctantly, and takes out his medical pack and gets to work. You leave and put your hands in your pockets, feeling the screwdriver, you remember what you wanted to do and walk to the pair of Sherman tanks. You make it to a Sherman and immediately hop in to inspect what was left of the engine and the radio. The engine was, of course, completely shot; the only thing that could possibly be used was the muffler, which was probably worthless anyway. But the SCR528 Push button, FM, voice operated radio was in fairly good condition, considering what a literal hell it went through and how it could have been hit with shrapnel. You took out your screwdriver and was beginning to take it off when Hans came up to the tank, peered in, and asked you why you want to save the poor Allied dog. You look at him and think for a while before answering that you have a wife, and at the end of this war you would like to go back to her again. He shakes his head in disgust, saying that your greatest duty is to the fatherland, not to some woman back home. You think about punching him right now, but no, it is not good for moral if you beat up your underlings. Besides, he's your old friend, and does a man normally beat up his old friends? You turn back to the radio and continue to unscrew it from the hull. Upon getting the last screw, you tilt the radio forwards to see where the battery is. You see a cord running from the back of the radio to the engine. Great, just what you needed, an extra battery to carry around. Oh well, a little less space won't hurt. You unhook the radio from the battery and start to push it out the commander's hatch when you see the manual for it. You figure, what the heck, and grab that, too. You get out through the driver's door, reach up, and grab the radio. You lift up the radio and carry it to the Tiger, being careful not to drop it, when you pass by the medic. You ask him about the American, and he replies that he will do fine, and he is currently at their camp. You thank him, then continue to carry the radio to your tank. When you finally reach it, there is a clothesline strung up behind the tank between two lone trees. The hull gunner is in his seat, reading a letter from his girl, the driver is in the commander's chair looking through the telescope, and the other two are on their cots outside playing a game of cards. Home sweet home. You set down the radio behind the tank and start to walk off, when the radioman asks where you got that. You tell him that you got it from one of the two disabled Sherman tanks. He asks if he can set it up and tinker with it. You tell him of course he can, and that you got it just for him. He thanks you and runs over to it, leaving the cards on the cot. You walk back to the small forest of trees by the road and into the camp of the supporting infantry. You ask Hans, who was sitting on a log, whittling on a stick with his knife, where the American is, and he points you to a tree on the outskirts of the camp. You get there, and you see that he is partially chained to a tree with one lone guard watching him. An absolute outrage, we are not in the Middle Ages anymore!