[Preface: Now, to begin, I would quite like to have input on this story, for I believe in an active relationship between writer and reader, for each are an essential part of any good story arc. Reviews, messages, poems, all are acceptable to me, if not wanted. If I have made some grave error in the weaving of this tale or have broken continuity, tell me, and I will (to the best of my ability) attempt to rectify the situation or, if you have an idea that may improve the story, please, send them to me. I have never claimed to be a master at writing, so half of the difficulty in this could easily be solved by help from you, the reader. Thank You.

Now the chapters of this story are in an interesting set up, dual (or maybe more depending how it goes) views of the same events and all, however, if you wish to preserve one for later and read one view point at a time just check the heading of a chapter for either 'Viewpoint Papa' or 'Viewpoint Sierra' and do what you wish. I will attempt to add to this as often as I can, and once again, thank you. And also, anything in brackets are author's notes, but anything in parentheses are not.]

Viewpoint Sierra, 16:45

"Hey. Hey guys. Guys. We got a problem here!" I heard our co driver, Adley, squeaked as he attempted to raise anybody, anywhere to help us in little predicament we had gotten ourselves into.

"They are definitely not gonna make it before these idiots see us." I heard someone say, and scoffed at it. I took a deep breath, then exhaled, half hoping we'd be missed, and half hoping we'd be found, just to get this over with. The M36 'Jackson' Gun Motor Carriage was about a hundred yards away knocking down the small, young trees that populated this grove, and was creeping slowly closer to our position, like it was searching for something. It had been trawling this area for a while now, and would find our poorly hidden M3 Stuart any minute. The odds were definitely not in our favor if we were found. I, along with the rest of my crew were beginning to break. For not only was the heat of this forest beginning to fry us in our little tin can, and that isn't to mention that a 20 tons of hot, angry steel was strolling towards us, possibly unaware of our existence. Although that might change any second since they were now dangerously close. Suddenly, a plan jumped into my mind, I shared it with the crew.

"Alright, here's how we're gonna get ourselves out of this little hole. Adley, keep trying to raise help. But, if they do notice us I want Salt to fire a round, and Captain to get us the hell out of here the second he does."

"Aye" I heard our gunner, Leland Salt, reply, quietly as I gingerly placed a shell into the breach and closed it. Mention 'That Thing', I'm quite sure it's stopped. It also might be turning its turret in our direction. Crap.

"Salt, fire why don't ya?!" The 37mm gun of the Stuart spat at the Jackson, the shell impacting the turret, before glancing off. The turret of the M36 stopped for a moment while the crew recoiled from the ricochet. Not a moment passed until our driver, 'Captain' Morgan Hosteen, roared the M3's engine into life and accelerated past the side and then around the rear of the Jackson. But, by then, the turret had begun to turn once more, attempting to track the Stuart for a moment, until the Jackson's engine growled, and the entire tank heaved once more and turned towards us, who were now little more than a receding cloud of upturned plants and dust. We plowed through the foliage, basically blind, while I attempted to reload the M3's 37 millimeter gun, with little success. I ignored my lack of expertise, for I had done what I planned to do and that's what matters.

"I'm pretty sure we're clear of those trees!" yelled Salt, giving me the green light to open the commander's hatch, which I did and stood up into in one fluid motion, to be smacked hard and square in the face by a tree's leaves, which hurt a lot more than I expected them to and also left a nasty red mark on my face. Fighting through the sting, I shouted down below

"Liar!" I could hear Salt almost silently snickering below. I glanced behind us, to find the Jackson poised at the treeline, attempting to line up a shot. "Zig-zags Captain, zig-zags!" I shouted down again, to which Captain quickly responded, throwing the Stuart into a set of quick, random course changes. The Jackson's gun roared, but its shell went wild, landing a good two or three yards ahead of the Stuart's left track, showering me with soil and letting a considerable portion enter the tank's cabin. I then heard the sound of a loud pop over the roar of the wind and the Stuart's engine, then the sound of a shell whizzing through the air above us, and into the Jackson, emitting sparks as it entered and causing the Jackson to shudder from the impact. It took a moment for it recollect itself and then lurch backwards into the brush from whence it came. As it did, I began searching for the producer of that shell, scanning the horizon of the nearby hills, one of which I ordered Captain to climb in case that Jackson attempted to pursue us, although I thought it very unlikely their commander would be that brain dead. As we reached the summit, we found our guardian angels, a pair of M4 Sherman medium tanks. Which were positioned well, their hulls masked by the reverse slope of the hill, and began to train their guns towards us, and then stopped and returned to their original positions once our alliance was obvious from our school insignia on the side of the turret, a caricature of a crow in flight. I then instructed Captain to drive between them and then cut the engine, which he did. Once we stopped between the two tanks and the engine was silenced, the heat of the air hit me, and I saw the hatches of the Sherman to our left open, and a friendly face appear.

"Is that the second or third time I've had to save your butt?!" Nick Olson called at me, his reddish hair and forehead streaked with dust, a smile crossing his face.

"Fourth I'm sure!" I yelled back as Captain, Salt and Adley opened their respective hatches, filling the interior of the tank with fresh air. Nick changed the subject.

"So that was one hell-of-a spot for you to stuck in!" Nick was always that kind of guy who universally liked, and according to some, should have been our team commanding officer.

"I believe that McClay is now officially out to get us." I replied, Nick chuckled.

"I wouldn't be surprised at all."

"I'm actually kinda surprised that you were still in the field, seeing as your session's over and done. I mean it's understandable with your radioman." I sucked in a big breath before yelling into the cabin

"Damn it Adley and your freaking radio!"

"Sorry!"

-18:13 Local-

Later as light was fading, our team gathered together for our after battle debrief, to make small talk and discuss what had happened, I reported to our team's CO the moment we dismounted, leaving my crew to do whatever they pleased. When I returned with my debriefing kit, they were spread out about the tank, with Salt and Captain playing a game of cards in front of the Stuart and Adley messing with the radio antenna on the back of the turret. However, once I approached, the crew coalesced closer together around the front of the tank and waited for me to speak."Alright, first, good job to all of you, you performed admirably during toda-"

"Except for somebody." interjected Salt, gritting his teeth and turning to Adley, who was sitting on the tank's turret. Salt had always been kind of a jerk, although he had a good reason to, he had basically been raised off of tanks, and Salt didn't allowed anything less than excellence in the game of Tankary, not to mention he only had another year to go until he was out of school. At this, Adley averted Salt's gaze, his face turned a shade of red. I scowled at Salt for his insubordination and continued,

"You all performed admirably during today's skirmish, although we did not really take part in the main action, which I blame you-know-who for, which was more towards the area of Blight's Hill, our team did manage to destroy almost the entire opposing force, forcing College Park's team to surrender after we broke through their main battle line yada yada yada. Destroyed this, destroyed that. Also-" An unusual note with our CO's handwriting on it had also been added to my kit, and I stopping my briefing and began skimming through it. 'Transfer program. Report to McClay for further instruction. Now!'. With 'Now!' being underlined three times. I decided that this would probably be more interesting than some stupid debriefing and began to walk towards the CO's tank, one of our team's prized M26 Pershing heavy tanks, motioning my crew to follow. The Pershings which were, of course, on the other side of our temporary motor pool, and were some of the biggest assets we had. Most other schools had maybe one, while we had a total of three, which reflect the fact that our school was basically a military academy of sorts. After finding our way through a maze of tanks, I saw the side of one of our Pershings and the figure of Harold McClay leaning on it, reading something off a clipboard. Harold McClay was our team's commanding officer and was a knowitall, short, snappy, and attempted, at least, to run our program more like a military outfit then a sports team. Then again my opinion is almost definitely biased since it was his belief that the new guy should basically be the butt-monkeys of the entire team, which he tried to impose on poor little Adley, which I objected to. In turn I had been moved from being a commander on a M4A2 Sherman to the commander of our only M3A3 Stuart as his way of punishing me. I could also see that he had spotted us coming, and had pulled a pen from his pocket. I stopped and saluted, something McClay had insisted on doing for no real reason, before approaching him further.

"Afternoon Fancourt." He replied, returning my salute with a slight smirk. "I guess you got my card then?"

"That I did." I said, becoming more and more infuriated with his demeanor

"Well, I've been told that to ask a team to be sent as a consultation group. Some other schools are doin' it, however, this is the first time we've done. Whaddya say?" I paused, considering the idea, but I was disturbed by a interjection by Salt, who had been silent until then

"What?!" Salt exclaimed, inquisitively, probably only catching half of what McClay had actually said.

"That's right," McClay replied, pushing past me towards my crew, hoping to gain their support. "you're all to be sent overseas as consultants for a up and coming Tankery team. Your to pack and be ready for transport on Tuesday, at dawn. Understand?" he paused for effect. Either that or to collect his thoughts. "You're also expected to try and learn something while on this excursion, and don't even consider this a vacation, or so help me I will make your lives miserable when I get back." He did that anyway.

"Yessir!" Repeated Salt, Adley, Captain and me in trained unison,

"Commander Fancourt, I assume you will also understand if we have your M3A3 serviced before your crew leaves, and will also be given a new coat of paint?" McClay asked, as if he was baiting an answer out of me, still with that stupid smirk

"Of course, sir, we are to represent the school are we not?" I replied, gritting my teeth slightly, still somewhat shocked by the news. I noticed that this had gone from optional to mandatory exercise.

"Yes, of course, and mentioning school, I hope you understand that I expect that you will continue your drills and exercises, not to mention you all are to talk to your instructors and secure some independent study material?" McClay said, slightly annoyed, shaking his pen at me.

"Of course." I replied, smiling at McClay's annoyance. He saluted, signaling the exchange was over. I returned his salute, turned on my heels and began back towards our little Stuart. My crew followed suit, and as we did, I glanced over my shoulder as McClay disappeared from sight, and could see him furiously writing something. I just didn't like him at all.

"So what now?" I heard Salt ask, a good amount of excitement. I paused momentarily before responding

"We pack up our gear, say our goodbyes and ship out of this hellhole." I chuckled. Adley began to protest, confused
"But didn't CO say that-"

"Balls to McClay. Come Tuesday, we're free!" I replied, overpowering his voice with my own. I saw Captain nod his head in agreement, just as we reached our Stuart. We mounted up and prepared to head back to our campus. Crowbank was a different, interesting school, mostly because because it once had been a full fledged military academy. However, no one had really told the administrators that it had become a civilian school, so it still retained a very militaristic flavor. It was also the reason we had three magnificent Pershings. And then we had our little M3 Stuart. A little tank built to fight other tanks its own size, not one twice or three times its size, in the case of the Pershing. In fact, Tankery in these parts was quite bland, teams contained mostly Shermans, Lees, Pershings, Rams, Stuarts and the occasional T-29 or Gun Carriage. Although I guess it also meant a team couldn't win just by sheer material advantage, but had to win with thee use of tactics and skill. Or luck. Either way, Crowbank was good at it. And it, unlike most other schools, actually funded their program quite well, and was on its way to become an actual class, while other school were downing the size of their teams or dismembering them completely and selling them for scrap. Which was quite a shame truth be told. I like tanks, not Tankery so much, but I enjoyed the mechanical parts, which made it kinda funny in a twisted way that I became snared into Tankery from being one of the Auto Shop students that worked on the team's tanks for extra credits towards graduation. Then they stuck me on a Sherman after one of their commanders left the school days before the official Tankary season, a little under a year ago. Thrusted into my position I did the best I could, and we did relatively well during the season and had a shot at the regional championship for a while. Either way, after my struggle with McClay, I got knocked down a notch to be on the M3A3 Stuart, which had not been used before since it was pretty useless, and still was, against tanks almost triple our size. And so was my experience in Tankery, so far.