T-34

T-34
Czechoslovak-built T-34/85 disguised as Soviet one
Type	Medium tank
Place Of Origin	Biasistan/Stalinistan
In Service	1939 - Present
Main Armament	76,2 mm L-11/F-34 (T-34/76) 85 mm ZiS S-53 (T-34/85)
Secondary Armament	2x 7,62 mm DT machine guns, sometimes 12,7 mm DShK machine gun for Anti-Aircraft sake
Armor	16 - 52 mm (T-34/76) 16 - 90 mm (T-34/85)
Engine	V-2 (500 hp)
Mass	27 tons (T-34/76) 32 tons (T-34/85)

The T-34 was a Soviet medium tank mass-produced in such unfathomable quantities—over 84,000 units—that historians still debate whether it was a weapon of war or a very aggressive public works project. Designed with minimal subtlety and maximum brute force, the T-34 was essentially a mobile slab of Stalinium.

A marvel of rushed engineering and pragmatic despair, it was not built to be better than its enemies. It was built to outlast them through sheer numerical bullying. It didn’t need finesse; it just needed to show up—preferably in battalion-sized clusters—with the tactical depth of Rush B.

Elegant? No. Effective? Often. Overwhelming? Absolutely.

Development

T-26 was crappy

BT-5 was crappy

Development began around 1937, when the Man of Steel realized that the still-produced T-26 infantry tanks and BT fast tanks were, in simple terms, junk. Their armor, barely 15 mm thick, was so thin a pissed-off Polish soldier with a rifle could shoot through them frontally without much effort. Despite their speed or numbers, they were rolling deathtraps.

So the job was handed to Anton Borsisovich Blyatovich, head designer at the Kharkov Locomotive Plant. At some point, after downing several canisters of industrial alcohol, Blyatovich went to the toilet, took a shit, wiped, and on the same shit-stained toilet paper sketched a rough idea for a new tank.

Unlike the BTs, this sketch included sloped armor—angled to increase effective thickness and deflect incoming fire. The gun placement, layout, and engine configuration were primitive but more serious than previous designs. This crude draft became the starting point for what would evolve into the A-20 prototype.

The A-20 still had outdated features like the wheel-track hybrid drive system, thin armor, and a 45mm gun. It was essentially a slightly improved BT that could still be knocked out by anything bigger than a machine gun. But it was a step forward.

Early T-34

The alternative A-32 dropped the wheels, added thicker armor and space for a larger gun. This eventually led to the T-34 Model 1939—the first version with properly sloped armor, a 76.2mm L-11 gun, and a diesel engine.

The tank was far from perfect, but it was finally something that could survive real combat. The design was crude, rushed, and built under pressure—but it worked. And that was enough.

T-34 itself

Lot of abandoned T-34/76's, Model 1941

T-34/76

The early T-34s—Models 1939, 1940, and 1941—came with a small cast turret, no room inside, and so many mechanical problems it was a miracle if they moved at all. Even gymnasts would’ve ended a shift in one of these with spinal damage. The tanks were built with “quality” in mind, but that mostly meant making sure they at least looked like tanks when leaving the factory.

In reality, a lot of them didn’t start. Or if they did, they stalled after a few meters. Common field fixes included hitting the engine with a hammer, or for the more spiritual types, crossing a hammer and sickle and waiting for the tank to come back to life. Sometimes it actually worked. Somehow.

The 1939 model had the basic layout—sloped armor, diesel engine, decent speed—but also included a ridiculous pedal-assist system that wasn’t connected to the engine. It was removed in the Model 1940, but nothing else really changed. The cramped turret, poor visibility, and terrible crew ergonomics stayed the same.

In 1941, the tank got the F-34 gun. On paper it had better penetration, but the rounds were low-velocity wooden sticks, which were effective against tanks like Pz.Kpfw. III/IV, but not against Tigers, which were introduced in late 1942. Inside, the four-man crew sat at awkward angles with barely enough space to do their jobs—except maybe stretching their legs while waiting to be shot.

T-34/76 model 1943. Notice that big-ass copula and Finnish Swastika. Stolen by Finns.

The 1942 model swapped the cast turret for a welded one, and added thicker armor—52 mm instead of 45. That made the tank harder to kill, but even worse to fight from. Gun operation now required contortionist-level movement, and loaders often had to twist just to breathe.

Visibility was horrible. No working periscopes. Drivers and commanders were effectively blind unless someone opened a hatch and risked losing their head. Only in 1943 did they add a proper commander’s cupola, making it slightly easier to figure out which direction the tank was facing.

This was the last model to use the 76 mm gun. By late 1943, the Soviets admitted it wasn’t enough anymore and moved on to the T-34/85, with a bigger gun and better turret—but still the same Soviet build quality.

In total, about 22,000 of the 76 mm versions were made. Most were lost or abandoned.

Ex-NVA T-34/85.

T-34/85

In early 1944, the Soviets began production of the T-34/85, finally replacing the underpowered 76 mm gun with a proper 85 mm cannon—something that could actually threaten late-war German armor from more than shouting distance.

By this point, the bromance between the Man of Steel and the mustachioed Austrian painter had long since gone to hell, and the tank's role was no longer about quality or survivability. Its new job was simple:

• build fast
• screw efficiency
• spam like hell
• Rush B
• get destroyed
• repeat.

The T-34/85 was a classic Soviet compromise: bigger gun, marginally better armor, and a turret large enough to finally fit a fifth crew member (a dedicated commander), yet the interior was still so cramped that if one guy sneezed, the loader had to wait 30 seconds before he could move again. God forbid someone had long legs.

Despite being theoretically amphibious, the T-34/85 had gaps, leaks, and tolerances so poor it could barely float on dry land. When trying to cross rivers, many units simply sank—not from enemy fire, but from being built like a colander.

But none of that mattered. The tank could be produced in absurd numbers, with late-war assembly lines churning out a new unit every few seconds—compared to nearly an hour for earlier models. For the Soviet doctrine, that was ideal: make more tanks than the enemy has shells.

Production didn’t even stop after the war. Various versions were built in countries like Poland, Czechoslovakia, and China, pushing the total number of T-34/85s to somewhere between 50,000 and 60,000 units.

Combat use

WWII

Average Soviet T-34 during war with some guys on skis and guys in grey, Hugo Boss uniforms

The T-34’s combat debut wasn’t exactly glorious. In the Winter War with Finland, the Soviets threw their shiny new tanks into frozen forests like they were invincible. Turns out, they weren’t. Finnish ski troops—literal dudes on skis—stole them, burned them, or just shoved Molotov cocktails into the engine decks like it was a national sport. The tanks were too heavy for the terrain, too sluggish in the snow, and too blind to see the guys setting them on fire.

Brick by brick, this time, on Prokhorovka fields

After 1941, things got much simpler. The Soviet doctrine became a one-line PowerPoint:

"Rush B, suka bylat!"

Thousands—literally thousands—of T-34s were pushed into action simultaneously, often without coordination, without radio, and sometimes without ammo. The only real strategy was drive forward until you hit something, ideally a German, a tree, or Berlin. If the tank exploded—great, send in five more. If it didn’t—congratulations, you now control a burning village and a pile of corpses.

Entire armored battalions were treated like disposable cutlery: use once, throw away, and build more. Every field operation was a mass tank zerg rush, relying on the enemy’s gun barrels overheating before they ran out of targets. There was no flanking, no finesse—just a glorified stampede of steel coffins, crashing through mud, mines, and frozen guts.

By 1944–45, the Red Army was throwing so many tanks at the Germans that Berlin could practically hear the factories running. Every square mile of progress was paid in smoking metal, shredded crews, and the unspoken motto:

Better to lose ten tanks than waste time thinking.

And somehow, it worked.

Because you can’t kill them all if they never stop coming.

Cold War

T-34/85, destroyed of course, in Korea.

By the late 1940s and early 1950s, the T-34—now mostly upgraded to the 85 mm version—refused to die. Instead, it entered its undead phase, being mass-produced not just in the USSR, but also in its obedient satellite states. Chinese factories went full zombie mode, cranking them out by the thousands. In Poland, the Bumar-Łabędy plant vomited out units like it was printing coupons. And in Czechoslovakia, ČKD and ZTS Martin kept the production lines running into the late '50s, building tanks as if WW3 was starting tomorrow.

And what does mass production in paranoid dictatorships mean? Export. Massive, shameless export. These tanks were shipped to every hole on Earth where someone had at least 51% of anti-capitalist interests. If you hated Coca-Cola and liked red flags, you got T-34s.

They saw combat in Korea, where they laughed at M24 Chaffees like they were made of paper. But when it came to Shermans and Pershings, the laughing stopped. Still, in a few divine moments of communist magic, T-34s survived multiple hits from 90 mm guns, probably thanks to North Korean crews crossing the hammer and sickle in just the right way.

Least damaged T-34/85 during Hungraian uprising.

They rolled through Vietnam, where the thick jungle couldn't hide their godawful silhouette. They got barbecued in Hungary, where students and pensioners burned them with Molotov cocktails in 1956—because apparently all it took to stop Soviet armor was a bottle of gas and a grudge.

And then there was Africa, the T-34’s post-apocalyptic playground. These things popped up in desert wars, bush wars, civil wars—you name it. In some bizarre twist of physics, they managed to bounce M72 LAW anti-tank rockets, possibly because the sand had fused with the hull to create some kind of cursed armor. With Soviet help, African nations even Frankensteined the T-34 chassis with T-55 components, creating mutant tanks that looked like they crawled out of a scrapyard nightmare.

After Cold War

Serbian T-34/85, 1996. Notice those rubber carpets on tank's surface. These were meant to be something like ERA or composite armor. In fact, it was useless as T-34 itself against T-72.

After the Cold War, you'd think the T-34 would finally be laid to rest. Nope. Like a drunk uncle at a family funeral, it kept showing up where it wasn't wanted.

Its next act: the Yugoslav Wars. These rusted, barely-functional relics rolled into battle once more—on all sides, naturally. Serbs, Croats, Bosniaks—everyone had at least a few lying around, and nobody cared who built them or how old they were. They were blown to bits by anti-aircraft guns like the Czechoslovak Vz. 53/59, which were meant for planes but penetrated through a T-34's armor, frontally, without even trying.

Some even found themselves up against modern NATO tanks, where the only logical tactic was to die with style and hope someone wrote a poem about it.

But wait—it gets worse.

Post-Yugoslavia, T-34s ended up in the hands of Islamists, warlords, and whatever random militia had Soviet connections or just knew how to hotwire museum pieces. In the Middle East and North Africa, they were used in brutal civil wars where the only consistent rule was “whoever shoots first probably still misses.”

Then came the 21st-century comeback tour.

No, this isn't joke. Nor film. This is operational T-34/85 in Ukraine, 2022.

Somehow, the T-34 made it to Ukraine, specifically the Donbas and Crimean fronts, where pro-Russian separatists dragged them off pedestals and monuments, fueled them up, and drove them into combat like it was 1944 again. Most didn’t last five minutes. A Javelin or even a pissed-off drone operator could turn them into scrap instantly—but for a brief, glorious second, they were back.

And as of now, in the glorious year of “why is this thing still around,” the T-34 is still technically serving in multiple armies:

• Vietnam: 45 units, probably used to scare chickens.
• Congo: in “active reserve,” meaning someone left them in the jungle with a dream.
• Guinea-Bissau: 10 units, because why not.
• Namibia: 4 tanks—just enough for a parade and a backup.
• Yemen: up to 250 units, fighting each other like some Soviet-themed hell simulation.
• North Korea: around 700 units in active service, because of course they do.

In most places, it hasn’t disappeared. It just keeps rolling.

Specs (T-34/85)

Production:

1944–1947 in USSR, then endlessly copied by satellite states and friendly tyrannies

Crew members: Commander (the dog), gunner, loader, driver, radio operator.

Crew:

5 members, commanded by a dog.

• Dog (barks once for attack, twice for vodka)
• Gunner
• Loader
• Driver
• Radio operator/machine gunner

Armament:

Main armament

Main Gun: 85mm ZiS-S-53 cannon

• Rate of Fire: 6–10 rounds/min (loading speed depends on whether loader's drunk, wounded, or dead)

Ammunition Types:

• AP (Armor Piercing): Full bottle – cracks open Panzers like peanuts
• APCR (Armor Piercing Composite Rigid): Super-chilled bottle – flies faster, hits harder, rare as good news in Stalingrad
• HE (High Explosive): Half-full bottle – makes infantry and light vehicles disappear in red mist
• Smoke: Empty bottle, still on fire – perfect for confusion and dramatic exits

Secondary weapons:

• 1× 7.62mm DT coaxial
• 1× 7.62mm DT hull-mounted

(Occasionally) 1× 7.62mm DT/12,7 mm DShK on top, for swatting planes and terrifying pigeons

Engine and Mobility:

Engine: V-2-34 V12 diesel

Horsepower: 500

Top Speed: 55 km/h on roads, less in mud, less still in reality

Range: ~200 km if the dog doesn’t chew through the fuel lines

Armor:

Turret Front: up to 90mm

Hull Front: up to 45mm

Sides: 45mm

Sloped like a drunk leaning on a bar counter – improves survivability through geometry

Weight:

32 tons

Pros:

• Dirt cheap
• Easy to repair with a wrench and profanity
• Mass production means you don’t need to win individual battles – you just drown them in tanks
• Upgrades over the T-34/76: better gun, thicker turret, even more "Soviet"

Cons:

• Visibility: you're basically blindfolded
• Comfort: none
• Precision: questionable
• Compared to a Tiger I? It's not. Compared to ten Tigers? Better odds.

Comparison of T-34/85, M4A3E8 Sherman, and a Gymnast

Combat

The T-34 is one of many Soviet machines that were produced in monstrous numbers, and therefore has only two competitors: the American M4A3E8 Sherman tank, which was also produced in huge numbers, 50,000 units, and the gymnast from an American college, which was also produced in a relatively high number, although this is unknown and probably lower than the numbers of 34s or Shermans produced, but it doesn't matter, because they all serve one purpose: To win.

Parameter	T-34/85	M4A3E8 Sherman	Collegiate Gymnast
Type	Medium tank, mass-produced	Medium tank, semi-survivable	Civilian flesh missile (unarmed)
Crew	5 (including dog commander)	5 (all human, marginally trained)	1 (uninsured dependent)
Command Structure	Dog in turret barks orders; crew guesses intentions	Human commander with periscope and voice	Internal monologue, occasionally a coach's scream
Crew Communication	Barking, screaming	Radio intercom, shouting under fire	AirPods (disconnected), maybe phone call to the Coach.
Armor (max)	90 mm turret (good slope, bad metallurgy)	76 mm turret, applique armor, still not Tiger-proof	Skin and willpower
Gun	85mm ZiS S-53: solid against Panzer IV's, useless against Tiger II	76mm M1: needs brains to be lethal, not courage	No gun. Maybe throws a glitter water bottle
Secondary Weapons	DT machine guns operated by panic	Coaxial, bow, and .50 cal MG – mostly for morale	None. May attempt a back handspring
Mobility	55 km/h if tracks stay on and the dog isn't distracted	48 km/h until something explodes	20 km/h, best on chalked surfaces
Survivability (under fire)	3–8 seconds. Dog likely last survivor.	5–10 minutes if engine doesn’t ignite	Instant vaporization
Crew Protection	None. Sitting on ammo rack next to fuel tank.	Some. Wet ammo stowage, sanity optional	Flesh-colored leotard
Combat Value	Moderate alone, devastating in hordes	High in combined arms operations	Zero. Total liability.
Mine Resistance	Weak. Instant detonation and smoking crater	Moderate. May roll to safety.	Zero. Turns into pink mist.
Maintenance	Fixed with hammer, parts from other dead tanks	Requires tools, manuals, and will to live	Needs foam roller and weekly therapy
Command Efficiency	Questionable. Dog cannot read maps	Acceptable. Human uses binoculars and fear	Autonomy level: squirrel
Psychological Impact	Moderate. A tank driven by a dog is still a tank	Recognizable silhouette, inspires mixed emotions	Confusion followed by guilt
Cost (WWII)	~$100,000 – mostly steel and sorrow	~$50,000 – plus oil fires and funerals	~$60,000/year – tuition, housing, mental instability
Combat Role	Punch through, burn, die, repeat	Flank, support, maybe live	Should be at home, far from artillery
Average Combat Lifespan	1 engagement. If lucky: 2. Dog sometimes survives on charisma	2–3 engagements. More if lucky or hidden	0 engagements. Lifespan ends at first incoming round

Gymnastic competion

So far it's 1:1:0. Unlike the Gymnast (like Olivia Dunne), both the T-34/85 and the Sherman are relatively usable in combat, which is probably not the case in the case of balance beams, rings, floors, etc., where Olivia Dunne and her kind are significantly more usable than 80-year-old tanks.

Category	T-34/85	M4A3E8 Sherman	Collegiate Gymnast
Weight	32,000 kg	30,300 kg	~50 kg
Length	6.68 m	6.27 m	~0,3 m
Width	3.0 m	2.62 m	~0.4 m
Height	2.45 m	2.74 m	~1.55 m
Entry Feasibility	Can enter building, destroys it structurally. Floor load exceeded by ~31,000 kg.	Can force way through gym doors, collapses supports.	Enters through side door. 0 structural impact.
Vault Table Compatibility	Vault table flattened under own weight before movement.	Vault table disintegrates during contact.	Compatible. Executes correctly.
Beam Compatibility	Beam shatters before turret is aligned. No balance.	Beam reduced to splinters under tread pressure.	Beam fully compatible. Routine performed within rules.
Uneven Bars	No capacity to interact. Gun breaches one bar, rotates turret.	Gun turret jams between bars. No articulation.	Performs kips, giants, and dismounts.
Floor Routine Feasibility	Movement cracks flooring, breaks tiles, triggers sprinkler system.	Tracks cause cratering. Gym becomes unfit for use.	Standard floor routine, no long-term damage.
Ceiling Clearance	Hits lighting grid. May cause electric short or fire.	Taller than light fixtures. Collides with support structures.	Passes under hoops, adjusts routines for space.
Acceleration (0–10 m)	~5 seconds with gear lag	~4.2 seconds, turbo assist	1.2 seconds average sprint
Noise Output (dB)	110–120 dB, permanent hearing damage within 5 m	100–115 dB, causes panic in confined space	~70 dB (music + landings)
Floor Load (kg/m²)	~10,000–12,000 kg/m², far above safe gym limits	~9,000–10,000 kg/m²	~320 kg/m² peak on landing
Training Requirements	None – built for war. Maintained irregularly.	Periodic depot checks. Zero athletic conditioning.	20–30 hours/week, regimented training, rest cycles.
Rest/Recovery Cycle	72–96 hours per mission. Needs full crew repair.	48–72 hours between operations. Needs spare parts.	8–10 hours sleep, active recovery, compression therapy.
Nutritional Needs	Diesel + vodka. Fuel tank: 460 L.	Gasoline + snacks in turret. Fuel tank: 600 L.	2,000–2,500 kcal/day. High protein intake.
Score Potential (FIG rules)	0.00 – automatic disqualification, catastrophic damage.	0.00 – DQ’d for destroying equipment, creating safety hazard.	Average 14.0–15.8 depending on event and form.
Injury Risk to Others	Maximum. Fatal injuries expected.	Very High. 3+ hospitalizations likely.	Moderate. Falls and landings may injure coach/spectators.
Injury Risk to Self	Medium. Mechanical failures, fires.	Medium. Drive shaft failures, overheating.	High. Overuse injuries, fractures, soft tissue damage.
Parental Presence	N/A – Parents died ca. 1941–1943 during production phase or war.	N/A – Parents died 1940s. Next of kin: museum docents.	Present, often loudly supportive, wearing school merch.
Psychological Condition	None – incapable of emotion. Runs programmatically.	None – mechanical behavior.	Chronically stressed. High-functioning burnout.
Post-Meet Reaction	No change. Vehicle remains idle until towed.	Fuel leakage, minor fire risk.	Crying in locker room, social media post follows.
Social Media Activity	N/A – no electronics onboard.	N/A – possibly tagged in veteran museum accounts.	Instagram story with sparkles and “💙 so proud.”
Leotard Fit / Appearance	Not applicable. Covered in rust, soot, oil.	Drab olive green, dented, stained.	Leotard valued at $400+, custom rhinestones.
Coaching Requirements	Needs at least 3 crew and a military engineer.	Requires depot staff and oil change bay.	Coach Sarah, pep talks, emotional regulation.
Exit Strategy	Towed out by T-55 or crane truck.	Stalled at exit, leaks fluid, building closed.	Walks out with medal and thigh sleeve on.

Parade capabilities

It's 1:1:1, so very close. And here's the key deciding round: The Parade. After all, all three things have experienced some kind of parade, be it victorious, booty, Mardi Gras, etc. The question is, who is best for the parade. Soviet, American, or American whore?

Category	T-34/85	M4A3E8 Sherman	University Gymnast
Core Purpose	Build → Break → Replace → Repeat	Mass-produce victory aesthetics	Produce academic debt in leotards
Design Philosophy	Disposable war flesh on tracks	Make enough to drown the enemy in steel	Smile, bleed, collapse, repeat
Parade Role	Monument to body count	Hollywood-friendly nostalgia prop	PR camouflage for a broken education system
Total Units Made	~50,000 (disposable)	~50,000 (PR-friendly)	Infinite (new batch every semester)
Typical Operator	Barely literate conscript from burnt village	Drafted teenager with Coca-Cola smile	Over-medicated 19-year-old with broken home and broken spine
State Investment	Zero per unit – cost absorbed in blood	Subsidized by arms dealers and Hollywood	Entirely self-funded via student loans
Life Expectancy	6 weeks in combat, 70 years in decay	8 weeks in jungle, 70 years in museum	4 years max, followed by irreversible burnout
Physical Decay	Rusted, stripped, burned, used in 3 civil wars	Clean shell, rotten wiring, forgotten crew	Torn ligaments, organ failure, body dysmorphia
Collapse Style	Loud, flaming, ignored	Silent, controlled, historically revised	Smiling, mid-air, streamed live, likes disabled
Victory Representation	“We can lose millions and still roll forward”	“We filmed the victory, so it happened”	“Look, she’s still smiling – everything’s fine”
Audience Expectation	Fire, noise, fear, ritual	Flags, patriotism, no thinking	Clean routines, clean body, zero context
Post-Parade Storage	Abandoned under snow	Hosed down and parked in front of history museum	Recovery room, unpaid bill, pregnancy scare
Emotional Output	None – mechanical despair	Fake pride	Repressed trauma labeled "grit"
Kinetic Signature	Grinding metal over bones	Sputtering showboat	Airborne flesh, masked agony
Main Cause of Failure	Cheap welds, human replacement	Overconfidence, under-armor	Torn ACL, lack of healthcare, psych collapse
Cultural Lying Point	“They died for peace”	“They fought for freedom”	“She’s empowered”
Most Likely End	Scrapped for parts by child soldiers	Turned into movie prop	Drinking alone after involuntary retirement
Symbol of	State brutality as efficiency	Marketed war narrative	Institutional neglect disguised as opportunity
Product of	Industrial nihilism	Capitalist optimism	Post-2016 academic rot with a glittery mask
Trump-Era Legacy	Irrelevant: death was always the plan	Immune: already fictionalized	Defunded, unsupported, expected to perform anyway
National Reusability	Forever, as fear icon	Forever, as branding	None – discarded and replaced with next "hopeful"

See also

• T-54/55 - Another Soviet mass-produced tank
• T-72 - Another Soviet mass-produced tank

• M4 Sherman - American counterpart
• Communism - obvious reasons
• Tank - also obvious reasons