Albert walked over to a Tiger 1 that had the number 104 on the side of it. There was a commander standing next to it, waiting for Albert to come speak with him.
"Over here, young man! Are you Albert Schroeder?"
"Yes, sir!" Albert said.
"Hello sir. I'm Willi Hartmann, the commander of this tank. It's nice to have another crew member. Our other one died from a shell that went straight through the radio transmission and then, went through him. He was only a boy, as young as 15 or so."
"I'm sorry, Hartmann."
"It's fine, everyone loses someone in war. Now come, I will show you the tank and my crew."
Albert and Willi jumped on the top of the tank. Willi climbed down the ladder with Albert following him. Inside, there was Willi's crew. There was one man that was trying to fix the radio. I watched him pulling wires and pressing buttons. Nothing worked, he pounded his fist against the inside walls of the Tiger. He threw his tools on the floor, everyone stared at him, causing him to look back.
"What?" he growled, as he wiped his sweaty forehead with his hands.
"Ok Albert, I will now tell you what your job on my Tiger is. You will be working the gun. You should know how to do that. It's just like an anti-tank gun but its in the tank!"
"Yes, I think so. We learned in military training how to manhandle one."
"Try it out! Erhard, get the tank moving behind those trees for a few seconds. Tell the other.........wait, does the transmission still work? Anyways, Albert shoot at one of the trees and knock it down!"
"No, Willi. It's the radio 'transmission'. Of course it's broken!" yelled Erhard as he rolled his eyes.
"Well, could you start her up?"
Erhard pulled on the lever, multiple times. The tank would not even start. Erhard checked the fuel gauge and it was almost empty.
"Someone, get the fuel containers from the back." ordered Erhard.
No one answered. Then, Erhard pointed to someone at the back of the tank that was putting a shell in place. After doing that, he quickly rushed out of the tank and did not say a word. You could hear him outside of the tank, getting the fuel containers from ropes on the back.
There was a small thud that came from the outside. Everyone looked up.
"That better not be Ivan's artillery." said Willi as he walked over to the ladder and went up.
The hatch squeaked when it opened. The young soldier was getting up on the tank. He held two fuel containers and slowly handed them to Willi with his hands shaking.
"Is that artillery, kid?" asked Willi.
The boy looked up at the sky and saw dark clouds moving in.
"Thunder, it's just thunder." he mumbled.
There was a small flash of lightning and a small rumble of thunder. The boy sighed and carried the fuel containers inside to the back of the tank. Erhard looked at him and yelled.
"You are suppose to fill it! That's your job, idiot! Now, go do it or else!"
The young soldier tried not to tear up as he quickly climbed the ladder. Everyone stared at Erhard when he pulled his pistol out.
"What's wrong with the boy, Willi?" Albert asked.
"That soldier is Arnold. His buddy was the one that got killed. Ever since that happened, he's been like this, not focused or following orders well, just not pulling his load. He's going to get us all killed one day with his stupidity, all because he's sad about loosing his 'best friend'.  These kids are too young to be doing this. Heck, we're older and we can hardly handle what we see everyday. War isn't about making friends, it's about doing a job so this craziness will stop and we can go home to our families."
War is hell.