Richter stood in shock as Russians poured from their hiding spots. Then he leveled his SMG at the advancing enemy forces and let the bullets fly, swapping clips out when they emptied. Eventually the Russians were among the SS's ranks and the fighting became a giant melee. Bayonets and knives, men swinging Rifles like clubs. The occasional banging of a Russian pistol or the lengthy burst of a German Mauser Pistol set on full auto.
Richter was suddenly surrounded by three Red Army soldiers. All much smaller than himself but all armed with PPSH sub-machine guns, Richter's MP40 hung by a strap, his SS dagger was clenched in one hand while his own Mauser in the other, They raised their weapons to fire and Richter dove away from the hail of bullets, He tackled one of the enemy soldier and stabbed him in the throat, he then rolled and fired a burst from his pistol, impacting the second in the head, killing him instantly. He felt something metal press against his face, He shifted his eyes to see the final Russian grinning, his finger ready to pull the trigger.
Suddenly his eyes went wide and blood began to trickle out of his mouth. The man slumped over, falling to the ground. Behind him stood Karl stood holding his sniper rifle cradled in his arms, the barrel still smoking. Thanks, that could have ended badly... Karl grinned "Don't worry, Nothing could make you any uglier Richter" Karl laughed and picked up a PPSH, putting a clip into a group of Russians running at them. Richter finished the survivors with a grenade. As Karl helped Richter to his feet a T-34 rolled around the burning hull of the tank he had rode on the way up. He hadn't even heard it get hit...
Rolf leveled his Panzerschreck and was hit by a barrage of MG fire from the tank and the rocket flew skyward, harmless. The tank crew's survivors came around the corner of the tank and dragged Rolf away while he screamed in pain. Richter turned his attention back to the tank. The barrel was pointed at him and Karl. It fired.
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