Berlin was lost. By now it was clear to everyone that no help was coming. Savinkov's hordes had smashed through every defense between the Oder and the city. The Syndicalists had crossed the Rhine. The Kaiserreich was lost. For Helmut Rothman, the fall of Berlin meant that he wasn't going to live much longer. The Russians were pacifying the last pockets of resistance. Rothman had come to terms with his death. He wasn't going to die in a Siberian work camp, and now all he cared about was dealing as much damage to the Russians as possible. Helmut peered through his Mauser scope, finger on the trigger. He saw what had to be a colonel step out of a truck that rolled up to the front. Breathe, squeeze. The Mauser bucked against his shoulder. The colonel took a step and fell, dead before he hit the ground. He worked the bolt and fired, again and again, spreading chaos through the Russian lines. As far they were convinced, May 1945 was too late to die. He watched men scatter as they looked for where the gunshots were coming from. Rothman put in a new clip, and then machine guns started chattering along the German lines. A counterattack was out of the question, now they were just trying to maximize Russian casualties. The Slavs didn't take being shot at kindly. Their own guns started firing, and bullets cracked past Helmut. He ducked, worked the bolt, and popped up again. He saw a Russian speaking into a radio, and he took him out too. It was late then since artillery started hammering the Germans. Helmut ran out of the second-story building he was in, diving into a foxhole. Shells and rockets pounded the Germans. He must've really pissed off the Russians. After a while, the shelling stopped, and he heard the rumble of tanks. Nothing came easy for the Russians though. A panzerfaust took out two tanks, and the machine guns only focused on the infantry, but bit by bit each strongpoint was crushed. Helmut fired until he ran out of bullets. From the corner of his eye, he saw a man slump over his machine gun, and he rushed out of the foxhole. He was crouched and zigzagging, but it didn't matter. He got shot through the thigh and felling screaming. As he tried to push himself back up, he saw a bow machine gun turn to face him. The muzzle flashed and everything went black.