June 25th, 1940

Paris, France

Hans fiddled with one of the treads on the tank track. He had to make sure the Panzer was in peak condition. A breakdown mid-assault could be fatal, or at the very least, embarrassing.

He heard footsteps behind him, and turned to face his tank commander, Schultz. His hair was ruffled, his officer’s cap askew, and he had a half-empty bottle whiskey in his hand. A drunken smile was pasted on his face.

”Hey, Hanszzzz…” he slurred “the boys are going into town for drinks to celebrate us taking the city!” He tried to gesture gloriously and almost fell over. “Come with us! It’ll be fun!”

“I’m busy, sir,” Hans replied, trying to focus on his task. It had to be done. It was certainly more important than a night of drinking and god-knows-what-else.

”Nobody is ever too busy! It just matters on priorities.” Schultz pushed. Even drunk, he could still give some decent advice.

Hans just gave the same response.

”Suit yoursellfff…” Schultz said. He stumbled off down the lamp-illuminated street towards the distant sounds of cheers, hearty conversations and music. Hans stayed and worked on the tank. Schultz was right about one thing: Priorities mattered. Keeping his tank running was his priority.