The night was sharp to the touch, an endless sky scarred with distant stars that were interrupted only by the horizons and the passing of the moon. The biting cold of such a desolate night granted a welcome reprieve from the searing desert sun, and the Heavy tank slowly closed his vision ports as the night air flooded his engine's intakes. A blissful serenity descended upon the hulking figure, but the faint sound of grinding tracks brought him back into the moment. Opening his vision ports, the Tiger resumed his observations of the land ahead from his vantage point atop a gently sided sand dune. The sound of tracks, now accompanied by the clanking of a laboured 12 cylinder Maybach engine, grew steadily in volume as a Panzer III clawed its way up the dune behind his overwatch partner. After some moments, the German medium tank crested the ridge, and dug his tracks into the sand, assuming a more comfortable position in preparation for the night shift.
"About fucking time Jonat, I was in danger of having a nice peaceful night under the stars," spoke the Tiger, a hint of humour dancing from his tongue as he slightly traversed his turret in the direction of the recently arrived Panzer.
"Dreadfully sorry to intrude, oh mighty Herr Fox, but I'm not allowed to leave you by yourself. The Battalion is concerned that you might die of old age, with no one nearby to salvage you for parts," replied the smaller tank, determined to somehow mock the Tiger's recent promotion and upgrade.
The cheeky shit, Fox thought with a grin. Despite their now substantial difference in tier, Jonat was just as experienced in combat as Fox, and always had a different perspective on situations that the Heavy tank found strategically and tactically invaluable. Jonat was, in fact, due several upgrades himself. In regards to tier, he should have been equal to his Heavy counterpart, yet he retained his dated chassis for a number of reasons.
Firstly, he was waiting for the delivery of Panther tanks into the desert theatre. He had seen the various prototype mediums currently available in combat, and had been underwhelmed by their performance.
Secondly, the theatre of war within which they resided was a relatively unique one. Supply chains were incredibly difficult to maintain during defensive operations, let alone an offensive push, and spare parts were always at a premium. The Panzer III was the workhorse of Panzerarmee Afrika, and as such it had the greatest number of available spares. Too many times had the pair seen immobilized but perfectly recoverable vehicles abandoned due to a shortage of replacement parts. Interestingly, it was the prototype medium tanks which most often suffered such a fate.
Finally, Jonat liked his current form; The Panzer III was relatively agile and fast, allowing for rapid flanking attacks and reactive defensive manoeuvres in support of the Tigers of the 501st Heavy Tank Battalion, and Jonat relished the challenge of engaging the British Cruiser tanks in a similarly classed vehicle. The Tiger, as he never failed to remind Fox, was not giving the enemy a sporting chance, and where was the fun in that.
But this war was no game. They both knew that.