January 1st, Mlawa

Dead of night

The howl of the wind was deafening, the tents flapped and shook, threatening to take off with one good gust. Combined with the heavy snowfall it was all but impossible to hear nor see more than a foot in front of oneself. One would also be crazy to leave the tents in blizzard conditions, risking not only losing themselves but also any unfortunate extremities.

This didn't stop Rudolf, however, who despite knowing the risks also had a job to do. Lighting a lamp and throwing on a long coat and woolen gloves he began battling his way across the encampment, fighting hard not to be blown away or let the only light source he had die. Etching his way forward he began looking for his target. After a while of stumbling through the thigh-high snow he found it. The Large shape slowly came into view as the lamps light started to flicker and become dimmer. The shape white Jagdpanther sat with its gun raised proudly, as if ready for a photoshoot with the Signal it sat in this position with built up snow on the roof, big red 121 was painted on the side alongside a Balkenkreze. Wandering around the side of it he saw another dim light sitting on the engine deck, a small black lump was currently fiddling with something in his gloved hands, occasionally saying something to himself as if he was lost in a world of his own. Creeping up alongside the tank, Rudolf began taking quiet steps, the crunch of his footsteps being masked by the howling wind. Clambering onto the tank Rudolf slowly walked up to the man and grabbed him by the shoulders. A audible yelp was heard from the man, followed by a quick punch to Rudolf's gut, sending him sprawling on the deck.

"What was that for asshole" Rudolf wheezed still clutching his gut.

The small man who had already returned to his job replied coldly, "Don't creep up on me like that".

The small man who crouched before Rudolf was Deinhart Bauer, the crew's driver, mechanic and apparent family man, a short man with a boxy frame, looking more like a brawler than a mechanic and with a face to match, his nose though not initially noticeable bent slightly to the left and his teeth being mostly fakes made out of whale bone, honestly it was hard for Rudolf to tell as they were all stained yellow. Finally recovering from the blow, Rudolf began to brush the snow that still clung to him off. Looking over Deinhart's shoulder he could see the man undoing parts in the engine but before they would fall out of their sockets, he would lightly screw them back in. Deinhart would then repeat this action a few more times before finally turning around to Rudolf and asking "Help me lower this" motioning towards the still raised engine cover. Quickly shifting to the opposite side of the deck. Carefully the two lowered the plate, the grunts of shifting something so heavy was occasionally mixed in with "Watch your fingers" followed by "Yeah I know, I know". Once the two had done that they both jumped off the rear of the tank crashing into the fresh powder below.

The two then began walking deeper into the darkness, after what seemed like an eternity, a voice called out in a loud whisper "Spark" Deinhart then quickly responded "ignite", a light in the darkness appeared as someone walked towards them. A figure than approached out of the darkness, a tall herculean figure than approached out of the darkness, Lutz Roth was the crew's resident loader, assistant engineer, and strong man. His head was currently wrapped in a scarf leaving a small slit for his eyes to peer out towards the two smaller men, but underneath was one would describe as bull like, with a large square face and a flat nose and oddly vivid green eyes. Rudolf always thought his eyes were a bit creepy being as they seemed to stare right through you with a judging look.

"Wonderful finding you two, g-g-great weather we're having aren't we" Lutz said in a joking manner gesturing to the near white out conditions. Lutz then had look around scanning to make sure that no one was in earshot before laying a heavy hand on both men's shoulder. In a quiet voice he asked, "Were either of you followed". Deinhart and Rudolf both shook their heads. "Good, come we have shit to do" removing his hands Lutz turned to walk back into the darkness, both Rudolf and Deinhart quickly followed suit. The wind had grown to such an extent that Rudolf had begun to feel it through both his overcoat and fleece that he was wearing. The trio slowly marched through the buffeting wind before finally seeing the faint iridescent light of lamps in the distance, quickly followed by the smell of gasoline. Finally, the faint outline of a large fuel tank and two figures hurriedly filling up 20l canisters, beside them lay a large stack of what Rudolf had assumed were already filled ones. Trudging the rest of the snow, which was now up to Rudolf waist. The trio made it to the firmer ground around the fuel tank. Rudolf took a moment to catch his breath, the energy being constantly sapped by the raging winds and the stinging snow.

"You three certainly took your time getting here" a cheerful voice called out.

Rudolf, who had somewhat recovered from his arduous journey quickly raised his lamp to see the shining grin of Claus, the crew's commander, and father figure, despite him not even being out of his twenties. A slight man with a clean-shaven appearance, dusty hair and a near constant grin plastered across his face, foxlike Rudolf was he liked to attribute to him.

"Yeah, well walking through waist deep snow is just such an easy task to achieve" Rudolf responded in a mocking tone.

"Don't blame the snow on your own poor preparation, I had no trouble getting here." Claus then motioned towards his feet which had large snowshoes attached to them.

"Have any spares?"

"No, unfortunately not, your cloths will unfortunately be wet, so get a move on."

At the mention of his clothes, he glanced down and noticed the cold dampness starting to crawl its way into his clothes, though he couldn't tell if it was sweat or from the melting snow. But before he could make a final judgment two fuel cans were thrust into his hands.

"Take these back the tank and store them somewhere out of sight, also go over the packing list again and make sure everything is stored within the tank, as we won't be coming back."

"Yes sir" Rudolf replied with a hint of contempt in his voice.

Turning around he tied a lamp to his chest, tugging on it to make sure it was secure before wandering back into the inky black. Before he could leave, however, someone came and patted him on the back, without even having to turn around he could already tell who it was just by the smell of alcohol in their breath.

Gunther Weber, the crew's gunner, and functional alcoholic and sometimes a navigator depending on how necessary it was. He always had an unkempt appearance to him, even when he did put effort into his looks, he still managed to look scruffy and dirty, his coppery hair always standing up at odd angles. His scruffy looks were possibly due to the seared flesh across his left cheek and the near permanent stain of dirt on his hands. Though his most notable feature was his black eye patch.

"Whilst you're over there grabbing our stuff, do you mind… grabbing my wine and other such niceties." Gunther said in a slurred voice.

Turning to face Gunther, the smell of alcohol almost overwhelming Rudolfs sense of smell causing his eyes to water.

"Only if I get some" Rudolf responded in a nasal voice.

Gunther stared at Rudolf intently, as if the cogs in his brain were slowly turning to understand what he had just heard, before smiling and nodding.

"Alright fine, you can have some. Just don't tell the others."

Gunther then shoved him forward into the darkness before he himself disappeared into the dark behind him. Rudolf then trudged into the darkness before him and started making his way back to the tank, following the now rapidly disappearing tracks that led back to the main camp. Dragging two heavy cans of fuel through the snow was no easy task, his socks and pants had become soaked through leading to them becoming increasingly numb and to add on top of it he hadn't slept or eaten properly in over a week and what was it all for. Survival, or at least that was his reason. He couldn't tell why the others had agreed to it but his reason was living to the end of this god forsaken war.

The war had been progressing badly for Germany ever since 43' they had been on the back foot despite what the propaganda ministry stated they were losing, badly. Every other day seemed like another 'tactical withdrawal' and that they would reclaim this territory in due time. But that time never came, any counterattack amassed would end in defeat or a prolonged fight which would end in a withdrawal. A week prior it dawned on Rudolf and the rest of the crew that they were where they started all the way back in 1939 and what did they have to show for it other than the growing pile of the dead. What did he have to show for it?

He came to the same conclusion every time he thought about it, nothing.

Finally finding the Jagdpanther he began the arduous task of lifting the jerry cans onto and then into the tank. Taking multiple attempts, he finally managed lift the Cans onto the engine deck. By this point the numbness in his legs had spread throughout his body causing his grip to become ever weaker. Opening the main hatch, he started awkwardly shifting the containers through. The interior of the Jagdpanther was rather spacious going by tank standards, they could probably fit maybe 8 more fuel cans in if they were to all sit inside the Tank. Rudolf then neatly placed them just off to the side of the main hatch, out of view of any inspecting officer. He then started checking off his list, starting with the food. They had been sacrificing a part of their rations to be used when they would leave, sustaining them for at least 2 weeks without resupply. Finding all the rations where he had previously left them, making sure that the tin cans hadn't been perforated nor had rats or mice eaten the any of the foodstuff, finally he made sure that basic maintenance equipment was all stored and ready, checking that spare track links were still attached and that gun cleaning and sighting equipment was stored properly. Finally, were the cloths that the crew had gathered, being a mix of both civilian and military cloths, hopefully letting them slip by patrols when they abandoned the tank. The last thing on the list was booze that Gunther had so graciously asked for.

But unbeknownst to Gunther he had already gathered his stash, putting it them in a storage pod mounted to the back of the Tank, taking some precautions he had wrapped them in a Blanket. Giving Rudolf some added confidence that the bottles wouldn't smash. Feeling that his tasks were now complete he checked his station in the tank. Rudolf was the crew's radio operator and bow machine gunner, also in his mind, the unappreciated maid of the crew, doing most of the cleaning, cooking, and simple maintenance around the Jagdpanther and acting as the scout if the need arose, this duty fell onto him being the newest and youngest in the crew didn't help his situation either.

Once that was done, he prepared once again to leave the tank. Doing a once-over on his list, Rudolf was confident that they would do everything they would need to get out of here. The plan was to head south, to Czechoslovakia and then catch a train towards Austria and then finally walk the rest of the way to Switzerland. If that didn't work, they would try their damned hardest to head west and surrender to the Americans and British forces. However, if they were all captured it would probably lead to an execution or penal battalion, both being death sentences.

Making his way outside the tank the wind was still blowing a gale, causing Rudolf to squint his eyes and brace against the buffeting wind. Closing the hatch behind him he began his way over to the tents and cabins. This was it he thought, his last night in the Wehrmacht, by tomorrow night he would be a coward, traitor, and turncoat, and for once those terms seemed quite nice.