Onward, to Germany

A Story by Kyle

A short scene that I thought about. A German ss lieutenant, a Hungarian rifleman, an Italian sniper, a Latvian machinegunner, and a Finnish female medic.

“Move you piece of Scheiße!”

Hans fanatically slams on the accelerator, but the engine only gives off a heavy sigh, like a dying old man. Seeing the December’s freezing wind blowing through that gaping hole in the engine, it is obvious this panzer won’t move an inch.

If possible, he would gladly abandon this metal coffin and escape into the cold winter of Budapest, but the storm of bullets raining on the hull made him ditch such idea. In a panic, the loader dropped the shell on the floor, giving off a turbid clank.

“Klaus hurry!” he couldn’t control his fear and shout towards the loader at the top of his lungs. The gunner desperately tries to turn the turret towards their right, but the Panzer IV J model’s turret has been stripped off its electric traverse, leaving it to rotate like an old lady crossing the street.

Through the optic, he could see that metal monster. Clad in dark green, it sprays bullet using the turret machine gun while calmly reloading its main gun. They have been flanked by a T-34-85, the first shot barely missed everyone in the hull, but disabled the engine.

It is obvious they couldn’t rotate the turret towards the Soviet tank in time, doom seems imminent. Hans starts to recite his prayer, pray that God would save him from this hell.

“Wreck those fascist pigs!”

Dmitry could barely control his excitement, he recognized that panzer, or more precisely, that serial number. The vision of that panzer milled over his wife and son like ants, and their scream of anguish lingers in his nightmares. Now, he finally could exact revenge on those monsters.

Shell has been inserted, the loader nod to him with a faint smile. He kissed the old, faint photos that have always been kept in his front pocket, and aim towards that pathetic panzer.

Before he could pull the trigger, with a sound of rolling thunder, the wall left of them has been breached. Before he could react, the T-34 has been rammed by a hulking shadow and pushed towards the Danube river.

“Kick that Slav into the river!”

Fritz’s shout echoes in the hull of 44M Tas and was responded by four different accents. Loránd slam the accelerator into the maximum output, seven hundred horsepower of pure steel rammed into the T-34. A massive bang followed by a heavy screech, the T-34 has been slowly but surely pushed towards the fence.

The T-34’s track spins, try to run away, but are unable to move an inch away from this steel behemoth. Its turret turns toward the 44M, try to make a point-blank shot, but due to the height difference, the barrel has been blocked by the 44M’s hull. Its diesel engine seems downright pathetic compared to 44M, like a little girl in front of a hulking bodybuilder.

The fence has been broken, the Hungarian prototype rammed the dark green soviet tank top first into the Danube. Water splashed onto the unpainted gray hull of 44M reflects a rainbow radiance under the sun.

The crew of Panzer IV was in stunned silence until a young voice came out of the radio.

“This is captain Fritz Koch, 3rd SS division of Sixth Army, Army Group South. I am now commandeering you under my command.”

Hans and the crews exited the now immobile Panzer and saw a young SS officer on top of the 44M’s hatch. They grabbed their rifles from the Panzer and approach the alien tank.

“Sir, do you still have space in the Panzer?” Feel the freezing wind of December Budapest, Hans asked the SS captain.

“Sorry, but we are currently experiencing a Hungarian driver, an Italian gunner, a Latvian loader and a Finnish machine gunner, we’re kind of full here.”

“Of course...” A sigh, failed to be amused by the joke, Hans and his crews climbed onto the roof of the Hungarian tank.

“3rd SS division? I thought you guys are at north?”

“Long story, please don’t ask.”

“Where are we going, sir?”

“To Vienna, it’s still safe there.”