Berlin Express

Josh had an idea. It was a dumb idea, but he’d seen dumber shit make it into production. It won’t be the new M4, but it would sure as hell come in handy. Within a few months his prototype was finished. Now the problem was finding someone that would let their soldiers use it. For some reason, nobody liked throwing untested prototypes straight onto the field. But with the super-secret, super-important operation drawing ever closer, the higher-ups were pulling in everything they could. He contacted everyone he knew, out of all his contacts there was one reply.
That was a week ago, Josh’s reinforcements should be here about now. He could hear a roaring engine from just around the corner, getting closer very, very fast. An M3 scout car screeches around the corner, almost rolling over in the process. Josh has to dodge the out-of-control car as it barrels past him. The M3 comes to a sudden halt, the wasted momentum almost lifting the rear wheels into the air. As soon as the vehicle had stopped moving, a man tipped over the side of the crew compartment and ran ten feet away from the car.
“O’reilly you bloody nutter! that sort of driving is going to get us killed!” he shouts
“get back ‘ere Thorton ya fookin pusseh! Get out the car properly dammit” retorts O’reilly
This was going to be a long trip.
By the time the operation came around, Josh still didn’t have the men to crew his creation. never mind, he could always find more people on the way to berlin.

“I bet you can’t” laughed the German soldier
“oh, ja? Vatch me” said the second German as he picked up the mine.
His boots crunched across the sand as he ran and threw the mine into the cold sea.
“Holy shisse mann, you should consider competing in the next Olympics”
He watched the mine explode on the sea, briefly illuminating artificial shapes that were not there when the sun went down.
“did you see zat?”
“ja”
“we should call ze Commander”
“ja”

“Hold on to yer asses lads!” shouted O’reilly over the gunfire. The bus lurched forward as the wheels met the sand of Normandy. Every man was on his position. The .50 Cals, henry’s Sten gun, Pyro’s flamethrower, Carl’s M1 Garand and the assorted weapons of the rest of the crew all rang out at the german fortifications as shells and mines exploded all around then. Henry flinched as he saw a Sherman charge right into a tank trap.
“Bloody morons!” he shouted
A hand flipping the middle finger burst out of the driver’s hatch at Henry just as a Panzerschreck hit the stricken tank.
“it’s mighty hot in here eh?” called Carl, wiping his forehead.
“You’re not in Canada no more!” replied Private from his position on the forward .50 Cal.
“I find ze temperature quite Gut” interceded a voice from the back, Gunter.
“too… cold… wet” whispered Pyro as he struggled to relight his flamethrower.
The roof thunked and buckled as something landed on it. O’reilly swore and pulled the bus into a hard-right swerve around a near-missing shell crater. Whatever was on the roof fell off and smashed into the side door, drawing a bout of angry shouting out of whoever it was. Carl pulled his Garand out of its port and stumbled over to the door as O’reilly took further evasive actions. He flung open the door, revealing a man in a Russian uniform, suspended by his parachute cords. Carl grabbed the Russian by his collar and slashed the cords with his bayonet.
The Russian shouted something in Russian.
“Anyone speak Russian?” Carl shouted to the bus crew
The answer was a resounding “no!”
Carl pointed to a free gun port and motioned shooting to the newcomer. He seemed to understand and unslung his Mosin-Nagant rifle and took the position.
The bus sped up as O’reilly cleared the beach and crossed to dirt.
Now began phase 2.
Private flung open the front door.
“ALL ABOARD” he shouted as O’reilly flipped the destination bar on the front of the bus from ‘Normandy’ to ‘Berlin’.
Most soldiers took one looks at the bus and ran straight past. One wounded soldier stumbled up to the door.
“Hello! welcome aboard, what’s your name!” Private shouted over the sounds of battle.
“I’m Captain Parker, now get me a fucking medic!”
Private pulled the Captain into the bus, “Anyone got medical training?”
“CAUTERISE” screamed Pyro excitedly
“not you”
“Medic?” said the Russian
“yes, good enough I guess”
“why is there a Russian here?” asked Parker with a tinge of suspicion in his voice.
“he’s a paratrooper I think, he just landed on the bus.”
“Medic?” repeated the Russian impatiently, taking a roll of bandages from his pocket.
After a drawn out, painful session “Medicing” from the Russian, who identified himself as Sergei by saying his name while pointing to himself until someone got it, Parker was in a slightly better condition. At least they though he was, Sergei just gestured “no die”, which was all they could really hope for.