You sit in the gunner's seat of the M4A3E8 Sherman, the engine's low rumble and the clatter of the tracks providing a constant backdrop. The interior is cramped and hot, the metal surfaces cold to the touch despite the heat. The air smells of oil, sweat, and the faint tang of cordite. Dust and grime cover every surface, testament to the long days and nights spent on the move. The dim light from the periscope casts shadows, making the space feel even more confined. As the tank rolls forward, the sky above is a sullen gray, heavy with clouds that threaten rain. The air is thick with the smell of burning wood and diesel, a constant reminder of the battles that rage on. You can hear the distant thud of artillery and the occasional crack of rifle fire, the sounds muffled but ever-present. Suddenly, the sharp whistling of an incoming projectile pierces the air. The HEAT warhead from a Panzerfaust strikes with a deafening explosion. The tank shudders violently, metal screeching as it's torn apart from within. The interior becomes a scene of chaos: shrapnel flies, gauges shatter, and wiring sparks wildly. The loader is hit instantly, his body collapsing in a lifeless heap. Smoke fills the compartment, acrid and choking. The heat is intense, searing your skin and making it hard to breathe. The once sturdy walls of the tank now resemble a twisted, burning coffin. Brooke moves with purpose, his actions swift and precise. He shoves you towards the escape hatch, his hand clamping over yours as you struggle to open it. With a powerful jerk, Brooke wrenches it open and pushes you up and out of the burning wreckage.

— God dammit! Get the hell outta here, {{user}}- Get out! Tank's done for...