Zhukov and his crew stood at the entrance of the cave, admiring the steel behemoth before them, a KV-1S. Looking back at corpse of the bear, they could only ponder how such a massive creature could exist.

“A bear that’s as big as our missus here, unfucking believable.”

“Aye gotta agree with you there lieutenant, bloody corpse over there’s gotta be three times bigger than any I’ve ever seen.”

“I dunno Sergei, I’s seen pictures o’ that old bastard’s mum. An I gots ta tell yah, she’s a beast o’ her own.”

Zhukov walked over to Vasily with a beaming smile, but his happy expression was deceived by a pair of crooked eyes. Vasily seemed to sober up immediately as he realized his impending fate, but although his mind was clear he was too sluggish to avoid the fist to his gut.

“Oh fuck, I...I think I’m bleedin again.”

“Yer just lookin to down another bottle.”

“Damn straight, hard enough to put up with this bullshit when I’m wasted. How the hell am I supposed to do it sober?”

The other four laughed heartily, their breaths turning visible in the cold environment.

“Now lieutenant, what's next? I mean it’s all good to be jolly now, but as far as I can see, we’re damn far from Kursk. What with all this snow and all. Not to mention that snowy field out there hasn’t a single footstep or track mark in it. I mean how the hell did we end up in this cave in the first place.”

“Aye, we’ve got quite the situation on our hands here, so let’s work a few things out. First of all as far as I can remember we were stormin down a hill joining the rest of the 5th then…”

Yakov chimed in while shivering “Then we took a hit...driver’s hatch… and everything went dark.”

The five looked back at the KV-1S which had a chunk of metal ripped from the driver’s hatch, exposing the driver’s compartment. Nearby, a bloody chunk of metal lied next to an empty bottle of vodka. Vasily scratched head, beginning to speak with a worried voice.

“Must’ve been the tank stallin. Would’ve explained why the gear was left in the last position. So I took a hit’n passed out then it must’ve stalled, causin everything tah go dark.”

“Well, suppose it’s useful information. Sadly doesn’t explain this change of scenery. Anyways unless we start setting up camp here soon, we’ll end up freezing to death. So Sergei, I need you to go make a list of all the supplies we’ve got let. I know we used a chunk of it during the battle and I gotta know what’s left.”

“Better be a nice warm fire when I get back.” Sergei climbed back into the tank while grumbling

“Vasily and Yakov, start setting up camp. Use anything we’ve got to set up some simple fortifications. Don’t want one of those bears mauling us in our sleep.”

“Better be a drink in it fer me.”

“Roger that.”

Only Zhukov and Igor were left, as the others wandered of to complete their tasks.

“Alright Igor, let’s go get some firewood.”

Igor nodded and went over to the tank, removing an axe that was attached to the side. Before he could head off into the tundra, he was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. Zhukov was behind him smiling while pointing to a unopened metal container, on the vehicle's side. After seeing this, Igor’s normally deadpan expression brightened, with a slight smile creeping over his face. Retrieving keys from their respective pockets, the duo unlocked the container. Inside were two worn M1891 infantry rifles with numerous markings near the end of the stock.

*Haha! Is always good to see our old comrades, eh Igor?"

“Da.”

Also in the container were ten stripper clips, loaded with 7.62x54r and ready for use, two bayonets, and two slings. Zhukov and Igor grabbed their old companions, splitting the clips between themselves. After loading the rifles, they pushed the bullets further down the magazine box. Then pushed the bolt into the firing position while simultaneously holding the trigger.

This particular action was done to relieve stress on the bolt’s spring, while also preventing a round from being chambered until the bolt was reworked. This was a more wise action than simply chambering a round and turning the safety knob on the bolt, as it removed all chance of the rifle misfiring.

Slinging their rifles over their shoulders, Zhukov and Igor headed outside of the cave. The land was barren, save for a few clusters of dead trees, and covered in snow. Luckily, the snow was shallower than expected, reaching up only past their ankles. Thanks to their boots being knee high they wouldn’t need to worry about any snow spilling over into them. However they were currently wearing their summer uniforms, and it was obviously below freezing.

“Ah shit, should’ve put on more layers.”

“Still can’t understand how the hell the summer scenery we had in Kursk turned into this.”

“If we had a damn radio we could’ve tried seeing if anyone else was in the area.”

“Fucking snow, seen too many tanks stuck in snowbanks to try risking ours. If we lose it we'll have to book it with the bare necessities, and with our luck we'll end up dying a slow cold death. Far from civilization.

“Still better than mud though.”

As Zhukov rambled on, Igor merely nodded and grunted to show that he was still listening. The two soon reached the first cluster of trees, totaling seven. While Igor began to chop, Zhukov stood watch.

“Well Igor, what say you about our chances of getting out of this mess?”

After felling the first tree Igor turned back to face Zhukov.

“We have survived worse, brother.”

“Haha! True, True. Very true. Anything is better than Tannenberg.”

“Da.”

The two hoisted the felled tree upon their shoulders, beginning the difficult task of lugging it back to the cave.

When they returned, they were greeted by Vasily. Who had a bottle in one hand and a hatchet in the other. Next to him stood Yakov, who held a knife, licking his lips while staring at the bear's corpse. After dropping off the log, Igor headed back out into the tundra. Zhukov remained, turning to the two misfits, he dropped his head while sighing.

“No point in letting it go to waste. I suppose we cou...”

Before he could finish speaking, Vasily began to turn the log into smaller, more flammable pieces. While Yakov began tearing into the bear with a greedy look in his eyes. Zhukov didn’t even bother finishing his speech, instead heading after Igor while chuckling to himself.

…….

Hours later, the sun had just begun to set, casting an orangish hue into the sky. Having finished their tasks, five men gathered around a fire with a pot hanging over it. Yakov had made made a stew out of bear, snow, potatoes, and his own special blend of spices. The crew ate the delightful meal alongside rye bread.

“So Vasily how did you manage to set yourself on fire again?"

“Well you see sir, I was having trouble gettin the kindle to light so I thought I’d use somethin a bit more volatile.”

“So, you used vodka?”

“Pretty smart, eh?”

“It would’ve been, hadn’t you spilled it all over your sleeves.”

“Well you’da been pissed if I’da used fuel instead.”

“Damn straight. Though it's still fuckin hilarious you caught on fire.”

“Fuck you!”

After Zhukov finished amusing himself, Sergei chimed in.

“So you ready to hear our current status?”

“Aye, suppose it's time to see how fucked we are. Anyway, let's start with fuel.”

“Luckily we’ve got about 3/4ths left in the tank, along with four of those 20 liter jerry cans.”

“Hmm, in this shitty terrain we’d be lucky to go 150 kilometers with that. Wouldn’t even last us half a day of driving.”

“What do you want to hear next?”

“How's our food supplies lookin.”

“Honestly, five days. Seven if we ration it now, though,” Sergei tossed his thumb over his shoulder, pointing to the butchered bear meat, “If we can preserve that, I could see use having enough to last a month.”

Zhukov grinned, turning to Yakov who seemed to already be deep in thought on the issue.

“Salt it, smoke it, freeze it. I really don’t care, but make it last.”

Yakov nodded and went back to pondering.

“Anyways Sergei, how's our weaponry lookin.”

Sergei smiled, exposing a row of teeth minus one.

“I’m glad you asked, what do you want first. Weapons or ammo?”

“Weapons”

“Haha, alright! Well to start off with, we’ve got two DT machine guns that we can detach from the tank. Then for rifles, we have two M1891 infantry rifles, your’s and Igor’s. We also have my lovely lady, an AVT-40. For submachine guns, we’ve only got your PPSh-41. For pistols, we’ve all got our standard issue M1895 Nagant revolvers. Also in our arsenal are the two TT-33s, the ones that you and Igor were issued. Oh, and I almost forgot. My personal sidearm, thanks to the lend-lease, an M1911A1. As for bashing or slashing, we’ve all got our NR-40 knives, along the two entrenching tools we've got packed away with the other gear.”

“And for ammo?”

Sergei sighed at Zhukov’s unimpressed response.

“Well for 7.62x54r, we’ve got 27 full, 60 round round drums for the DT machine guns, along with one half used drum. I know you and Igor also have five stripper clips each, and I’ve got three 10 round magazines for my AVT-40. For 7.62x25, we’ve got five of those 71 round drums for the PPSh, along with six magazines of 8 rounds for the two TT-33s. I've also got three 7 round magazines of .45 ACP for my M1911A1. Lastly, for 7.62x38, we’ve got 175 rounds split between the five M1895s, 35 rounds per person.”

“And how about shells for the 76mm cannon?”

“Well, there are 77 high explosive shells, 24 armour piercing, and 4 high velocity armour piercing.”

Vasily, who had seemed dazed and oddly quiet, suddenly stood up and began to shout.

“But what about the vodka! How much o’ that sweet nectar we got left?”

“You see that bottle in your hands.”

“Aye Igor, t’what about t’it?”

“That’s was the last one.”

Zhukov, Yakov, and Sergei quickly shifted their gazes to Vasily who was staring at the empty bottle in his hands while mumbling.

“My precious…”

“Vasily, I regret not letting you bleeding to death.”

“How can I be expected to do maintenance sober!”

“Fuck, and I was planning on getting wasted while smoking the bear meat.”

Igor facepalmed and sighed at the sight before him.

“You damn drunks. How can all the vodka be gone, when you threw out anything you thought was a waste of space, in order to fit more vodka!”

The four sighed in relief and began to laugh.

“Igor, don’t scare us like that!”

Having finished their meal the crew sat around their makeshift camp as the sun began to disappear over the horizon. They joked about their odd situation a bit more, before retiring to sleep. Except for Vasily, who continued to sit seemingly still in a daze. He continued to hold a half empty bottle of vodka, staring out at the setting sun until it was finally replaced by a calming darkness. Tears began to stream down his face as he spoke to himself.

“Another day...another day...that I must live on...without you.”

Vasily shook his head, and after wiping away his tears, he took a swig of vodka. From behind, multiple shadows stalked their way over. They crept closer and closer, until they were just a few steps away from Vasily’s back. Before they could make another move, Vasily slowly looked back. He'd stretched out his bottle of vodka towards the newcomers. One of the shadows crept towards the outstretched hand and after take a few whiffs of the bottle, began to drink sloppily from it.

“It is a sad world, to live we kill. We take away the future of another, because if we don’t they take away ours.”

Leaving the shadow with the bottle, Vasily rose up and went over to the tank. After retrieving a plain looking can, he returned to find the unsuspecting guests, three brown bear cubs, playing with the now empty bottle. Vasily crouched down nearby, as to not frighten them, and dumped the contents of the can on the ground.

The cubs began to sniff the air, having smelled the spam that was on the ground. They cautiously approached Vasily, stopping at the spam that had retained a perfectly cylindrical shape. The three cubs seemed to argue amongst each other while drooling, as to who would be the first to test the food. Vasily laughed at the sight, causing the cubs to scamper back into the darkness. While they hid, he returned to the tank, fishing out another two cans from their supplies. He emptied the other cans near the first, and went off to the tents to sleep. The fire behind had been reduced to little more than smoldering hot coals.