If it storms or snows, or the sun smiles on us,
The day burning hot, or ice cold of the night.
Dusty are our faces, but joyful are our minds,

They roll our tanks forward into the storms wind.

With thundering engines, as fast as lightning,
Towards the enemy, sheltered in the tank,
Ahead of our comrades, in battle we stand alone,

That's how we can thrust deep into enemy ranks.

When before us one hostile tank appears,
Full throttle is given and we close with the enemy.
What does our life matter for the Reich's army?

To die for Germany is our highest honor.

With obstacles and tanks the foe blocks our path,
We laugh about it and don't drive upon them.
And even if his hand shakes morosely and furiously,

We will search ways that no one else has found.

And if were abandoned by treachorous luck,
And if we don't return back home again,
If death's bullet finds us, and fate calls us away,

Then our tank shall become an honorable iron grave!