Hey guys, it's been awhile. I've been working on this story for awhile now, about three months or so. It's not done, not even close, but I thought I'd put up the first chapter and see what the reaction is. Review please, it's always nice to hear what you guys think of the story. I want to thank Bucue and Mahou Kitsune for helping me with this story. They are such a big help and I'm really grateful. Anyways, on to the story!

Disclaimer: I do not own Strike Witches.

"I am a soldier, I fight where I am told and win where I fight" Gen. George S. Patton

Saturday, 0625 hours, April 21, 1945, in a barn on the edge of a small Karlsland village, Northeast of Crailsheim.

Lying on the barren barn floor, Pfc. Natalie Swanson shivered in her sleeping bag, trying desperately to get just a few more minutes of sleep before she had to get up at 0630. But she couldn't go back to sleep, she was just too damn cold. A gust of wind blew through the cracks in the barn's walls, causing Natalie to shiver again.

Next to her, lying on her stomach, Cpl. Elizabeth Peterson snored loudly, completely oblivious to the cold.

Of course, Natalie thought, being from Alaska, she'd be used to the cold. But Natalie, who was from Bakersfield, California, was not. The young tank witch rolled on her back and stared up at the ceiling of the barn. Early morning light filtered in through the cracks, and she could see specks of dust twirling above her in an endless ballet.

On the other side of Natalie, Sgt. Sandra Phelps sat a little ways away from the two witches, making a pot of hot coffee for them. Natalie looked at Sandra and again felt herself being utterly confused by the swirl of emotions she was feeling. There was respect, a deep respect that she had for the sergeant. Then there was also fear, and at times Natalie was scared of Sandra. The first time Natalie had disobeyed one of her orders, quite by accident too, Sandra had slammed her up against the side of one of the Sherman's, pinned her there, and had thoroughly chewed her out, yelling in her face and slapping her harshly. It had been terrifying. Natalie had been shaking so bad, that afterwards, she wasn't able to take off her Land Strikers by herself. And the last one she could feel, well… she didn't quite know the name for it. At first she thought it was admiration, but she soon realized that that wasn't the case.

The first time she had felt this feeling, had been just a few days ago. The three tank witches had been sent to check an area where a recon plane had been shot down. They had gone alone, without the rest of their platoon, because the Sherman tanks would've just slowed them down. All they were told to do was check out the area, and then head back to report what they saw. When they reached the spot, a small farmhouse in the middle of a big open field, Natalie had stepped on a Karlsland tank mine, which had probably been sitting there since the invasion of Karlsland back in 1939. It had blown her into the air about thirty feet, and she had landed hard on her left leg. Her Land Strikers took most of the damage from the mine, but she was still hurt from the fall. On top of that, the tread on her left striker had broken, and she couldn't use them to Track Dash.

Sandra had decided to carry Natalie bridal style, so that they could report on time. While in Sandra's strong arms, Natalie had felt her heat beating faster, and her face getting redder. She had felt safe, for the first time since she'd gotten off the boat in Gallia. Thinking about it know made her blush. Was she… was this emotion… love?

But we're both girls, the thirteen year old berated herself. It wasn't like Sandra wasn't attractive, with her sparkling blue eyes, her long and silky blonde hair, and her soft melodious voice.

But, Natalie thought, isn't that wrong? She didn't know what to do. It's not like she could just ask someone for advice.

...

A tall man with dark green eyes and short brown hair stepped up to the large barn door, yawning into his hand has he did so. On the shoulder of his green army jacket was the unit patch of the 2nd Armored Division, and a rank insignia marking him as a Staff Sergeant. As he reached for the door handle, his arm brushed against his shoulder holster which carried his Colt .45. SSgt. Matt Donaldson rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as he walked into the barn. He saw two of the tank witches lying on the floor, still asleep, while a third was already up and making coffee.

"Good God, something stinks" Matt said as he approached Phelps, who hadn't looked up at his entrance.

"That'd be the coffee" she said grabbing a cup and pouring some into it.

"Would you like some, sir?" she asked, holding the steaming cup out to him.

"I told you, I'm not a sir. I just happen to be in charge" Matt grumbled, taking the offered cup. He took a sip and grimaced at the bitter taste.

"What the hell did you do, piss in it?" he asked, before taking another sip, needing the awful drink to wake him up.

"Does it tastes that good?" she asked jokingly, before pouring herself a cup.

"Oh yeah, best damn cup I've had in weeks" he said sarcastically, squatting down next to her. They stayed like that for a minute, quietly sipping their coffee, before Phelps turned to him and asked, "So how do things look?" He thought about that for a moment, taking another long sip of the coffee before answering.

"About the same as they did yesterday" he finally replied, handing his now empty cup back to her.

"That bad huh?" she said, setting the cup down next to the coffee pot and pulling out her packet of cigarettes.

"Yeah. Slugger and Old Dog are both fine, but I'm worried about The Rhino. Galloway says the radio is on the fritz again, and that it might go out at any time. We've still got ammo, but we won't last another two days of hard fighting with what we've got" he said accepting the cigarette she offered him. He pulled out his little silver lighter and lit the cigarette, then offering Phelps a light. She leaned forward and held the cigarette above the flame, then took a long drag as she leaned back. Matt took a drag then let it out, watching the smoke drift up towards the ceiling of the barn.

"So what about you?" he asked, looking over at Phelps. Her blue eyes narrowed and she took another long pull on the cigarette. She let it out and spoke "Well, Peterson is fine. Personally, I think she enjoys it all just a little too much. But as long as she keeps smiling, she keeps fighting, so that's good. And the kid, well…" she stopped and Matt waited for her to finish her sentence.

"She's hanging in there?" he said when she didn't speak.

"Yeah, but she's close, I can tell. She's not meant for this Donaldson. She's only been in the army for nine weeks" she said, looking over at Swanson who was sleeping peacefully on the barn floor a short distance from them. Close to the breaking point is what Phelps meant, and Matt couldn't help but agree. They'd gotten her a week ago as a replacement for an outstanding tank witch by the name of Lorna Fallows, who had been taken out by a Neuroi strafing run a few days before. Swanson arrived right as they were being pushed back to the front lines. The fighting had been fierce and her first couple of days had been hard on her.

Matt closed his eyes and once again felt the burden that had been placed on his shoulders ever since Lt. Jennings had bought it two weeks ago. Before that, he had been in charge of one tank and four guys. Now he was in charge of three tanks, fourteen guys, and three witches. He opened his eyes and looked at Phelps.

"Make sure she doesn't Phelps. We need each one of you" he said, knowing that without the witches, he'd have been dead a long time ago.

"Yes sir" she said with a small grin.

"I told you to stop calling me that" he said, only slightly annoyed. He had bigger problems he needed to be worrying about.

Saturday, 0640 hours, April 21, 1945

Matt walked over to the back of his tank, Slugger, with a map in his hands. "Phelps, Collard, Galloway come over here!" he yelled to his fellow sergeants as he lay the map out on the back of the Sherman. The three soldiers walked over to Matt and he showed them the map.

"What've we got, chief?" Collard asked as they all looked at the map.

"We have been tasked with supporting the 2nd Battalion with taking this town" Matt said, pointing to the spot on the map. The town was about thirty miles south of the village.

"A recon witch flew over yesterday and said that she spotted Neuroi activity here. Couple of Stingers, maybe even some infantry" Matt said and Galloway immediately asked "How many?"

Matt shook his head and replied "I don't know"

"Do they have tanks?" Collard asked and again Matt replied "I don't know"

The three sergeants exchanged looks before Phelps asked "Well, what do you know?"

Matt sighed, looked at her, and said "I know we've been ordered to take this town, so that's what we're going to do"

Galloway groaned, letting his head drop on to the back of Slugger with a loud thunk. Collard shook his head and took a sip of his coffee, while Phelps cursed under her breath and took a long, soothing drag from her cigarette.

"Yeah, I hate going in blind too, but what choice do we have?" Matt said, looking back at the map.

"We'll be taking this road here" Matt said, tracing the route with a pencil. "We'll be going in with a platoon from Fox Company, while Easy and the rest of Fox Company swing up from the south" he explained the plan, marking the points on the map. The sergeants took a couple of moments to take in the plan and to collect themselves, before asking a new round of questions.

"What's our march order going to be?" Collard asked, taking another sip of his coffee.

"Slugger will lead the column, followed by The Rhino, with Old Dog bringing up the rear" Matt said pointing to himself, then Galloway and then Collard.

"What about us? Who's being paired with who?" Phelps asked.

"You'll be with me, Peterson will be paired with Collard, and Swanson will ride with Galloway" Matt said, again pointing to each tank commander in turn.

Galloway grimaced and asked "Why the hell am I stuck with the kid?" Matt sighed and looked away for a moment.

"I don't know Galloway, why're you such an asshole?" Matt replied causing Collard to chuckle.

"That's a great question" Collard said, which earned him a glare from Galloway. Galloway looked back at Matt, then turned and stormed off towards his tank.

"Galloway come back, we aren't done yet!" Matt called, but Galloway just kept walking. Matt shook his head, and watched as Galloway climbed into his tank.

"What a fucking baby" Collard said and Phelps nodded in agreement. Matt disagreed though. He didn't think it was because Galloway couldn't take the insults. It was probably Galloway restraining himself from getting violent. Galloway's temper had led to many fights with the other soldiers in the past.

He may not be well liked, Matt thought, but he is a damn good tank commander.

"So was there anything else you wanted to tell us?" Collard asked.

Matt nodded, "Yeah, that recon witch also reported seeing something in these woods, so we'll have to be careful" Matt circled the spot on the map, about twelve miles away from their little farming village.

"Anyways, Fox Company should be here soon, so we'll move out when they arrive" Matt said, folding up the map and putting it away. Phelps looked behind Matt as he said this and asked "Are those the guys?"

Matt turned around and saw five trucks and a jeep rolling down the road towards them. The soldiers in the trucks looked tired and dirty, most of them still sleeping. Matt walked towards the jeep as it came to a halt.

"You men Fox Company?" Matt asked the lieutenant sitting in the jeep.

"Yes, sir, that is correct. Fox Company, 2nd platoon" he replied, stepping out of the jeep and standing in front of Matt. His helmet bore a white diamond on both sides, and he wore a screaming eagle patch on his shoulder. Matt gave him a quick glance over. Average height, average build, average face. He just seemed like an average guy, someone you'd pass on the street and forget about instantly. The only thing that really stood out were his intense ice blue eyes. They seemed to be able to look right into Matt's very soul. The intensity with which he stared at Matt sent a shiver down the tank commander's spine.

Who is this guy? Matt thought as he accepted the lieutenant's outstretched hand.

"Uh, right. Listen, I'm no 'sir', I'm just a Staff Sergeant. I really ought to be saluting you Lieutenant…"

"Brown, John Brown" the lieutenant replied.

Christ, Matt thought, even his name is forgettable. "I'm SSgt. Donaldson" Matt said when Lt. Brown released his hand.

"So who's in charge?" Brown asked, looking over Donaldson's shoulder at the tanks. Once again Matt felt the weight of leadership on his shoulders and he couldn't help but sigh "I am, sir"

Brown nodded and said, "Good. Looks as though I'm talking to the right person. We're ready to go whenever you are" Matt looked over his shoulder and signaled Collard to mount up.

"Okay Lieutenant, smoke'em if you got'em , we'll be moving out in fifteen minutes" Matt said, turning around and walking towards the tanks.

...

Natalie sat on the back of Old Dog with Elizabeth, who was telling another one of her dirty jokes. Natalie acted like she was listening and politely laughed when Elizabeth was done, but her mind was elsewhere.

Should I tell her? she asked herself for the twentieth time that morning.

"Hey, are you okay? Is something wrong?" Elizabeth asked, leaning forward and looking at Natalie, concern in her eyes.

"Nothing's wrong" Natalie said quickly, looking down at her lap.

Just drop it, she thought, avoiding Elizabeth's gaze. Elizabeth looked at her skeptically, before shrugging. Natalie sighed quietly with relief, glad that Elizabeth had not persisted. She still wasn't sure if she should tell anyone about her feelings, and she didn't want to be forced to share them.

"I wonder what today's mission will be" Natalie said, restarting the conversation. She looked up at the gray clouds thinking of the different possibilities.

Elizabeth smiled and replied "It doesn't matter to me what it is. As long as we get to kill some Neuroi, I'm happy" Natalie looked over at her fellow tank witch and she wondered, not for the first time, what made this girl tick. She was odd to say the least. Elizabeth craved combat like Sandra craved cigarettes, and that confused Natalie. Everyone else dreaded going into combat, but Elizabeth seemed to welcome the opportunity with open arms.

In combat, she would always have a smile on her face, even with all of the death happening around her. It was scary watching her, yet also strangely fascinating. The smile she wore during combat was cold and mirthless, a predator's smile. Her eyes too, were different in combat. Normally, Elizabeth's eyes sparkled with mischief. But in combat her eyes hardened and glinted with a cold malice that frightened Natalie whenever she saw them. It just showed that Natalie still had a lot to learn about her fellow witches.

Elizabeth shifted her gaze to over Natalie's shoulder and she shouted, "So what've we got today!?"

Natalie turned around and saw Sandra walking over to the two witches, an unlit cigarette in her mouth, her hand searching her pocket for a match.

"Today we're taking a small town to the south of here" Sandra replied, finally pulling a match out of her pocket and lighting her cigarette, waving the match out and flicking it away.

"Elizabeth, you're riding with Collard, Natalie you're with Galloway" Sandra said, letting out a puff of smoke. Natalie groaned at her bad luck while Elizabeth patted her back in sympathy.

"Sorry kiddo, it looks like you drew the short straw this time" she said before hopping off of the Sherman and landing in front of Sandra.

"Let's go get geared up then" she said, walking towards the barn to put on her strikers.

"Come on Natalie, I'll help you get your Strikers on" Sandra said, gesturing with her hand for the young witch to follow.

"Oh, uh, okay" Natalie said, sliding off of the Old Dog and following Sandra towards the barn. As they passed by The Rhino, Natalie could hear Galloway grumbling about being partnered with her, and Natalie felt a bit sad. Sure she was new, but she didn't understand why Galloway was so mean to her.

Sandra seemed to notice this and said "Don't take it personally. Galloway just doesn't like fresh replacements. He thinks they're bad luck. He'll warm up to you in time" Natalie nodded, and followed Sandra through the barn doors. Elizabeth was sitting on the barn floor and already had one of her strikers on and was sliding on the second. As she slid it into place, a bright blue light emitted from Elizabeth as her white ears and tail materialized, the ears contrasting sharply with her dark black hair. Elizabeth's familiar was the Arctic Fox, found on the Aleutian Islands of Alaska. Sandra walked over to her and pulled Elizabeth to her feet.

"Thanks" Elizabeth said before bending down and lifting her BAR off the ground.

"Natalie, sit down" Sandra said, pointing toward a stool that sat next to the barn's far wall. Natalie nodded and walked over to the stool while Sandra picked up Natalie's strikers and walked over to her. Natalie sat down and took off her brown boots and green army issue socks, placing them on the ground next to the stool.

Sandra got on her knees in front of Natalie and said, "Give me your leg" Natalie lifted her left leg and Sandra placed her hand on the underside of it. Her hand felt warm on her cold leg and Natalie felt her heart start to beat faster.

Sandra slowly slid Natalie's first striker on, then said "Now give me your other leg" Natalie complied, lifting her right leg, and blushing as Sandra's hand held the underside of her thigh.

Sandra noticed this and said "You don't need to feel embarrassed, it is hard putting these on without a platform" Natalie quickly nodded, acting calm, but panicking on the inside.

"Don't worry", Sandra said as she finished putting on Natalie's striker, "you'll get the hang of it after a while" Sandra grabbed Natalie's hand and pulled her to her feet. Natalie nodded, before calling on her familiar, the Desert Cottontail, a rabbit that lived in the big open fields around Bakersfield. She felt the tall rabbit's ears spring from her head, and her fluffy tail poking out above her army green panties. Sandra bent down and grabbed Natalie's M3 Grease Gun, handing her the submachine-gun.

"Thanks" Natalie mumbled, not meeting Sandra's gaze. Sandra nodded, before sitting down on the ground and putting on her own strikers. Natalie walked out of the barn and saw a flurry of activity as the tank crews made final preparations, loading up on more ammo, tying down boxes of it to the back of the tanks. She also saw a platoon of infantrymen milling around near the tanks, waiting for the tank crews to finish their preparations so that they could mount up.

"Natalie!" Elizabeth called from her left. Natalie looked and saw that she was digging through a box of ammo.

"Here, catch" Elizabeth said, pulling out an ammo pouch filled with clips for the Grease Gun and tossed it to Natalie. Natalie clumsily caught it, and strapped it on so that it clung to her waist. The pouch could carry eight thirty round magazines, added to the one already in the gun, gave her a total of nine magazines. Elizabeth pulled out her own pouch of ammo, slinging it over her shoulder. Then she reached back in and pulled out four grenades.

"Here you go" she said cheerfully, walking over and handing two of them to Natalie, which she hooked onto the ammo bag's strap. Sandra walked out of the barn carrying her M3 Grease Gun, her Coyote ears twitching in the light breeze.

"Here" Elizabeth said, handing Sandra an ammo pouch and two grenades. Sandra put on the ammo pouch and hooked the two grenades to her belt, like Natalie had.

"Man I miss those combat cannons" Sandra said, looking at the Grease Gun in disdain. Since there was a supply shortage, the witches had been unable to get replacements for their 75mm(magic per mass) combat cannons that had been destroyed when their camp had been strafed by Neuroi a couple of days. Natalie had arrived with one, but it had been damaged beyond repair in her incident with the land mine.

"Alright, let's mount up!" SSgt. Donaldson shouted as he climbed into his Sherman.

"Time to go" Sandra said as she walked over to Slugger,climbing up and standing right behind the turret.

"Good luck kiddo" Elizabeth said before jogging over to the Old Dog, climbing onto the front of i.

"Thanks" Natalie said under her breath, turning around and walking up the The Rhino, climbing aboard and settling in for a long ride.

Saturday, 0735 hours, April 21, 1945

The Slugger's Ford GAA V8 engine rumbled in Matt's ears as the big Sherman rolled down dirt road that wound its way through the Karlsland countryside, the two other tanks and five trucks following it. Green grass stretched over the rolling hills to Matt's left, dotted with small groves of trees. To Matt's right lay a wall of lush trees, their branches reaching out towards the convoy. In front of Slugger, leading the column, was Lt. Brown's jeep. Brown was sitting in the passenger seat with a pair of binoculars, pointing and talking to the driver, who acted like he was paying attention. Matt turned around and opened his mouth to start some small talk with Phelps, but stopped himself before he got his first word out. She was staring out over the open ground and looked deep in thought, so Matt decided to leave her be. As the tanks rumbled down the dirt road, they passed by the rusted hulk of a Karlsland Panzer IV.

It's probably been sitting there since the Karlsland Army retreated back in 1939, Matt thought, looking at the wreck. The top half of the turret was gone, sliced of by a Neuroi's laser no doubt.

"I don't like this" Phelps said quietly, and Matt turned to her with a questioning look.

"That's a bad omen" she said matter-of-factly, meeting his gaze. Matt just shook his head.

"A bad omen? I doubt it" he responded. Just then he heard a whining sound from behind and turned around to see four witches flying low overhead, passing the column and continuing on their patrol.

"See? I bet you that's a good omen" Matt said jokingly, but Phelps didn't respond.

They stayed silent for a few moments before Phelps spoke again, "I don't like not having my combat cannon" Matt sighed and closed his eyes as he began to worry. He'd heard this complaint many times before, and would still be hearing it until she got a new Witch Combat Cannon.

"I already told you, I put in a request to the supply officer for replacements, but he hasn't been able to get any yet. You'll just have to make do with that Grease Gun for now" Matt said, hoping she would just drop the subject. Sandra and Elizabeth had both lost their Witch Combat Guns in the strafing run that had killed Lorna a few days before.

"I know" she said quietly, "but I still don't like it" He looked back at her and frowned.

This must be about Lorna, he thought, knowing how hard her death had hit Phelps. He changed the subject to try and lighten the mood.

"Would you get a load of General Patton?" he said, pointing to Lt. Brown, who was still looking around through his binoculars.

"He does look ridiculous doesn't he?" Phelps said, a ghost of a smile coming to her face. That small smile was gone in an instant when a red laser lanced out from the across the field to their left and struck Lt. Brown's jeep, engulfing it in a bright flash. The flaming jeep flipped onto its back, the entire thing burning intensely.

"Oh shit!" Matt yelled, dropping into the tank to avoid the flying metal from the explosion. He could hear similar curses over the radio from Collard and Galloway.

"What the hell was that?!" Collard yelled over the radio, and Matt pulled himself back up to see what was going on. On a small hill covered with trees about eight hundred yards away, Matt could just make out the outline of a Neuroi Turtle Tank.

"Is it a Stinger?" Matt's gunner, Cpl. Maxwell 'Max' Brody, asked, looking up at Matt with his brown eyes.

"It's not a Stinger, it's a goddamn tank!" Matt yelled, a sense of dread building. Turtle Tanks were known notoriously throughout the army as one of the toughest Neuroi to kill. In a straight one on one fight between a Sherman and a Turtle, the Turtle would win every time.

But we've got three Shermans and three witches, Matt told himself, trying to reassure himself.

"Phelp's, dismount!" he shouted, and the young witch hopped off the tank, unslinging her gun from her shoulder as she landed on the road.

"All tanks, right stick, right stick!" Matt yelled into the radio, his own driver, Cpl. Mike Barron, quickly complying with the order, pushing forward on the right stick to turn Slugger off of the road, towards the enemy.

"Roger that, right stick!" Collard yelled back, and Matt could see out of the corner of his eye the other two tanks coming around to face the Neuroi. The three tanks stopped just a few feet from the road in line formation, Galloway on Matt's left, Collard on the other side of Galloway.

"Phelps, tell those drivers to get a move on, we'll handle this!" he yelled, before turning his attention back to the battle. A laser shot flew overhead, chopping the tops off of the trees behind Matt, branches raining down onto the tank.

"Fuck, Franky, load a Willy Pete, put some smoke in this bastards face!" Matt yelled down to his loader, Pvt. Franklyn 'Franky' Doyle, who quickly grabbed a white phosphorous round from his little alcove and shoved the smoke shell into the Slugger's big 76mm gun.

"Clear!" Franky shouted to tell Max that the gun was ready to fire.

"On the way!" Max shouted in response, hitting the trigger with his foot and sending the shell through the air. A big puff of smoke appeared where it hit, right in front of the Turtle tank, which was lost in the smoke. The Neuroi fired blindly through the smoke, missing wildly. Just then, Matt heard the trucks roaring by behind him, swerving around the flaming wreck of Brown's jeep, heading on towards Crailshiem.

"All tanks, advance!" Matt ordered, and the three tanks lurched forward, roaring across the field of grass towards the small hill. Matt's mind began to race, thinking of what orders he needed to give.

The convoy, he thought, we need to make sure the convoy is protected.

"Phelps, you and Swanson go with the trucks, make sure they reach the town in one piece" Matt said, looking behind him at the tank witches. He made eye contact with Phelps, who nodded, before yelling to Swanson to follow her. They took off, Track Dashing after the convoy, leaving Peterson behind.

"Peterson, get up here now!" Matt quickly said into the radio, before turning back around and focusing on the situation. They'd crossed about a third of the distance to the Turtle tank, and the smoke was finally starting to dissipate. Matt could just barely make out the outline of the Neuroi through the smoke. The Neuroi spotted the tanks advance and screeched, firing a shot that missed Matt's head by a few feet. Matt ducked down, his adrenaline really pumping now from the near death experience. Before he was in charge, he would have welcomed the adrenaline to help keep his mind off of the situation, and just focus on his small job.

I can't do that now, he thought, taking a deep breath to calm himself down as he pulled himself back up. He needed to stay focused, and lead with a level head.

"Franky, give me a HE round, Max, aim for the fucker's legs" Matt said, hoping to take away the Neuroi's mobility. Though, moving around didn't seem high on the Neuroi's list of priorities. It hadn't moved at all since the beginning of the fight, opting to take shot after shot at the tanks from its position on the hill.

Strange, Matt thought, why isn't it moving? It would have a much easier time picking us off if it did.

He dismissed the thought, bringing his mind back to the fight. To his left, Galloway fired his gun, quickly followed by Collard's smaller 75mm gun. Galloway's shot missed high, his gunner having fired while the tank barreled over a small rise in the field, while Collard's glanced off the Neuroi's thick frontal armor at an angle, doing only a little damage. Matt heard a clank from behind and turned to see Peterson standing on the back of the tank, slightly winded from the sprint, panting to catch her breath. Nevertheless, her always present battle smirk was in place, and Matt could make out the dangerous gleam in her eye under the brim of her helmet.

"Peterson, man the .50, and make sure none of his shot's get through" Matt said, to which she nodded, slinging her BAR on her shoulder and grabbing the .50 cal. She began spraying the Turtle with bullets, the big machine gun thumping loudly next to Matt's head.

"Take it easy! Short bursts, don't go wasting ammo!" he shouted, and she complied, firing smaller, more accurate bursts.

Now that she's here, we stand a much better chance, Matt thought with a small smile. Ever since the witches had lost their combat cannons, their offensive capabilities were basically cut in half. So Matt came up with a strategy so that they were still engaged in the fight, but would be able to use their abilities to help the tanks. During battle, the witches would use the tanks mounted .50 caliber machine guns, and use their shields to protect the tanks from enemy fire. The infantry weapons they carried around were mainly for self-defense, in case they got into a fight away from the tanks.

At first Phelps hadn't liked the strategy, saying that the witches would just be over glorified shields for the tanks. After reasoning with her though, Matt had been able to convince her that it was a good idea, and the best strategy that he could come up with.

"On the way!" Max shouted, and the big 76mm gun fired, rocking the tank from the recoil, bringing Matt back to the battle. The round hit, blowing the Neuroi's front left leg out from under it. It quickly began to regenerate, wobbling on three legs.

"Give me another, that was beautiful!" Matt shouted, and Franky loaded another explosive shell into the cannon.

"Clear!"

"On the way!"

The shell took out the other leg, and the Turtle fell forward, its gun pinned to the ground beneath its writhing body. It struggled to lift itself from the ground with the stumps of its front legs, and got off a quick shot in retaliation. The shot went straight for Collard, and Peterson quickly threw her hand out to generate a blue magic shield, stopping the laser just feet from the Old Dog's turret.

"Thanks Peterson, I owe you one" Collard said over the radio. Peterson didn't respond, turning her gaze back to the Neuroi, giving it her full and undivided attention.

"All tanks, halt, halt" Matt shouted, wary of getting to close to the Neuroi. The tanks jerked to a stop about a third of the way to the hill and continued to fire. The Neuroi's first leg was fully regenerated and it attempted to stand on three good legs, the fourth almost finished regenerating.

"Max, AP, now!" Matt shouted, and Franky quickly grabbed an armor piercing shell, shoved it into the cannon, and yelled "You're clear!"

"On the way!" came the response as Max fired. The round hit the Neuroi in the center of its frontal armor, causing the alien to screech in pain. A huge black chunk flew from the hit, and Matt could just barely see a sliver of the core underneath.

"Hit it again, before it has time to regen!" Matt shouted, and Peterson began firing relentlessly at the spot with the machinegun, completely forgetting what Matt told her about using short bursts. Matt's bow gunner, Pvt. Enrique Alvarez, added his .30's fire to Peterson's, their bullets drilling into the Neuroi. Chips of the Neuroi's armor flew through the air, the constant spray of hot lead keeping the wound open. Collard took a shot, but it fell short, sending a plume of dirt skyward.

"Come on Franky, load it up, load it up!" Max shouted, tapping his foot nervously against the floor of the tank. Franky was grabbing an AP round and shoved it into the gun barrel, shouting "You're fucking clear!" But before Max could fire, there was a flash of red and blue as the Neuroi's laser splashed against Peterson's shield. Matt felt his heart stop as he stared at the bright lights, his eyes wide with fear.

"Fire!" Galloway bellowed, and The Rhino shot the Neuroi's semi-exposed core. The Neuroi emitted a bell sound as it's core was obliterated, and the Turtle tank exploded into a cloud of sparkling shrapnel. Matt let out a huge sigh of relief and slumped forward, leaning on the edge of the open hatch. Relief flooded him, as the tension of the battle slowly ebbed away from his body.

"Good job" he said over his shoulder to Peterson, who just nodded. She let go of the gun and fell forward with an overdramatic sigh, landing on Matt's back. Matt grunted and looked over his shoulder at her. She had a twinkle in her eye and winked at him, before closing her eyes and snuggling into his back. Matt felt his cheeks heating slightly, and quickly turned back around.

She's such a child, he thought to himself, though he secretly thought it was adorable. It was quiet for a few moments, everyone just trying to calm themselves down.

That was easier than it normally is, Matt thought, staring at the spot on the hill the Neuroi had been standing on.

He smiled and said quietly, "Maybe we're just getting better"

"Hey Matt. Isn't it strange that the Turtle didn't try to rush us?" Max asked, and Matt thought about it. He had thought the same thing during the battle, but had quickly dismissed it and focused solely on killing the thing.

"Yeah, it is kind of strange" Matt said. He sat up straight again, Peterson sliding off of him with a groan of protest. He looked over at Galloway and asked into the radio, "Everyone okay?"

"We're good" Galloway said, giving Matt a thumbs up. Matt returned the gesture, and looked past Galloway to Collard, who just nodded at him.

"All right then, let's get going. I'm sure…" Matt began, but was cut off by a panicked voice over the radio.

"Donaldson, we've been ambushed by infantry! We need back up now!" Phelps shouted over the radio.

"Oh shit" Matt cursed, as realization dawned on him. Was that why the Turtle didn't move? Was it just a distraction?

But that still doesn't make any sense, it could have just taken us out, which would have made it a hell of a lot harder on the convoy, Matt thought to himself.

"All tanks, back to the road, now!" Matt said as Mike quickly turned the big Sherman around and gunned it back towards the road. Whatever the Neuroi's reason, he didn't have time to worry about it now. He had to hurry before the entire convoy was wiped out.