Despite being shaken, he slept more or less soundly. It was the first chance he had gotten to really sleep in weeks, though his dream troubled him deeply. He was back in Berlin, pinned down by the Soviets behind the damaged tank, only now he was completely alone. On top of that, there seemed to be hundreds more Russians firing at him. He knew if he stayed, he would be killed, but if he tried to fight back he would likely be shot anyway. That was when the object bounced off the tanks shattered plating, landing at his feet. When he looked down, his eyes met with the single worst thing he could think of.
Resting on one of his paws was a Russian stick grenade.