The battlefield was a haze of smoke and fire, the once-pristine snow churned into a grimy, blood-soaked slurry beneath the weight of men and machines. The wreckage of German and Soviet armor littered the pass, and the air was thick with the acrid stench of burning fuel and charred metal. But the Germans weren't stopping.
Inside the T-95, Juri Stalin leaned forward, gripping the controls so tightly that his knuckles were white. The tank had taken several hits—its makeshift armor was dented and blackened from enemy fire, and smoke curled faintly from a small engine leak. The fuel gauge was dropping fast, and worse still, only three shells remained in their dwindling arsenal.
"How many left?" Viktor shouted, his voice barely audible over the din of combat.
"Three!" Pavel called back from the loader's position, sweat dripping down his soot-streaked face.
"Three shells against half an army," Viktor muttered bitterly, shaking his head. He glanced at Juri. "What's the plan now? Tell me you have one, or I'm jumping out before we go up in flames."
Juri exhaled, his mind racing. The Germans had regrouped, their remaining infantry pushing forward alongside two heavy tanks that had survived the earlier assault. They were moving cautiously now, keeping their distance from the T-95, aware of its devastating firepower. But the infantry was relentless, pressing forward with rifles, grenades, and machine guns.
"We can't rely on the cannon alone," Juri said, his voice grim. "We'll mount the machine guns on the front of the tank. If we focus on the infantry, we can thin their numbers before they get too close."
"And the heavy tanks?" Viktor asked, raising an eyebrow.
"We save the shells for them," Juri replied. "When the time comes, we'll ram straight into their lines and finish this."
"Ramming? That's your plan?" Viktor scoffed, though there was a faint smirk on his face. "I knew you were insane, but this…"
"Do you have a better idea?" Juri snapped.
Viktor sighed. "No. Fine. Let's do it."
The crew worked quickly, using spare mounts and clamps from the tank's storage compartments to fashion a crude frame on the front of the T-95. Pavel climbed out of the loader's hatch, braving the gunfire and icy wind as he helped secure the machine guns to the makeshift mount. The soldiers from Volkov's squadron provided covering fire from the rocks, doing their best to hold back the advancing Germans while the crew prepared for their last stand.
Juri adjusted the controls, testing the newly mounted weapons. The machine guns rattled to life, their rapid-fire bursts cutting through the air. It wasn't elegant, but it would work.
"Good enough," Viktor said, sliding back into his seat. "Now let's see if we can make them regret waking up today."
The Germans attacked again, their infantry surging forward in waves, supported by the three remaining heavy tanks. Machine gun fire ripped through the air, bullets ricocheting off the T-95's armor as it roared into motion.
Juri drove straight toward the advancing lines, the tank's treads grinding over the broken terrain. The newly mounted machine guns chattered relentlessly, mowing down enemy soldiers as they tried to find cover.
"Focus on the infantry!" Juri shouted, steering the tank into the thick of the chaos. "Save the shells for the heavies!"
Viktor manned the turret, scanning the battlefield for targets. Pavel fed the machine guns, keeping them firing as fast as they could. The German soldiers scattered, their lines breaking under the relentless assault.
The T-95 barreled forward, crushing barricades and abandoned equipment beneath its weight. Juri didn't hesitate, driving the tank straight into the enemy ranks. The machine guns blazed, cutting down soldiers left and right.
"They're falling back!" Viktor shouted.
"Not yet," Juri said, his eyes locked on the two heavy tanks in the distance.
The German heavies opened fire, their shells screaming toward the T-95. One hit the side of the tank, sending a jolt through the entire frame. The makeshift armor groaned under the impact but held—barely.
"That was too close!" Viktor yelled.
Juri didn't flinch. He pushed the tank harder, the engine straining as they closed the distance.
"Load the first shell!" Juri barked.
Pavel scrambled, grabbing one of the remaining shells and slamming it into the breech. "Loaded!"
"Target the lead tank," Juri said. "Viktor, make it count."
Viktor lined up the shot, his hands steady despite the chaos around them. The turret groaned as it turned, and for a moment, time seemed to slow.
"Fire!" Juri shouted.
The T-95's cannon roared, the shell streaking across the battlefield. It struck the lead German tank squarely in the turret, punching through its armor and detonating inside. The explosion sent debris flying, and the force of the blast was so great that the tank behind it was caught in the shrapnel.
"Collateral hit!" Viktor shouted triumphantly. "Two for one!"
Juri allowed himself a faint smirk. "Good. Now finish the last one."
The remaining German tank fired again, its shell grazing the T-95's front armor and leaving a jagged gash in the scrap metal plating. Juri pushed the tank forward, closing the distance until they were almost point-blank.
"Second shell!" Juri ordered.
Pavel loaded the next round, his hands moving quickly despite the cramped space. "Loaded!"
"Fire!"
The shell hit the last German tank just below its turret, the explosion ripping through its engine compartment. The tank shuddered, black smoke pouring from its hull before it finally went still.
"Got it!" Viktor shouted, pumping his fist.
Juri slowed the tank, surveying the battlefield. The German infantry was in full retreat now, their remaining forces scattered and leaderless. The pass was littered with the wreckage of tanks and bodies, a testament to the T-95's brutal efficiency.
"Last shell," Pavel said quietly, his voice heavy with exhaustion.
Juri nodded. "We'll keep it. Just in case."
But the battle wasn't over yet.
A sharp metallic clang echoed through the tank, followed by the sound of boots scrambling on the hull. Viktor spun around, his eyes widening.
"Someone's on us!" he shouted.
Before anyone could react, a grenade clattered through the open hatch and landed in the center of the cramped compartment.
Juri's heart sank. Time seemed to freeze as he locked eyes with Viktor, then Pavel. There was no time to think, no time to act.
The grenade detonated.
The explosion tore through the interior of the T-95, ripping apart everything inside. The blast sent a plume of smoke and debris shooting out of the hatches, and for a moment, the tank was silent, its engine sputtering weakly.
Then, as if by some cruel twist of fate, the T-95's engine roared back to life.
The massive machine lurched forward, its treads grinding over the battlefield in an eerie, aimless circle. The controls were abandoned, the crew gone, yet the tank moved as though it had a will of its own.
It carved a slow path through the wreckage, its turret still smoking, its machine guns silent. The German soldiers watched from a distance, their faces pale with fear and confusion.
Eventually, the engine began to falter, the low-quality fuel finally running dry. The T-95 came to a halt in the center of the pass, its frame battered and scorched but still standing.
The tank sat there, silent and motionless, a monument to its crew's final stand.