Chapter 2
The First Battle
A massive trail of dust was kicked up behind the Bridlington Tank Club, all machines leisurely driving forward along the trail. The day was graced by a mild breeze, unfortunately only slightly alleviating the powerful heat. Hensley was stood slightly out of the commander's hatch of Bishop 1, the Comet he had led since his first day.
The entire club had come, bringing a total of eighteen vehicles. Bridlington brought with them three Comets, five Cromwells, five Cruiser Mk IVAs, and five Churchills. The Churchills led the convoy now, setting pace for the drive. The Major was in the very front Churchill, Badger 1, and Walker in the Cruiser Rook 1. All three were propped up, waving at the occasional onlooker. The reactions were mixed, some finer dressed ladies scoffing at the sight of them, while some younger girls waved and smiled excitedly. Most of the men they saw wished them luck.
A young boy who was off to school almost caused a scene, as he rushed forward toward the convoy. The Major made no order to stop, however, once he saw the child clamber successfully aboard. He spoke quick Egyptian Arabic, and naturally Lawrence was at a loss. Rather than be disheartened, the boy laughed, and pulled a note from his pocket. Once Lawrence had taken it, the boy slipped down from the tank just as well as he had leapt up. Hensley and Walker both gave him a quick salute as they passed by, and the boy waved them off.
Lawrence unfolded the note. There was rather messy Arabic writing on the top, but below it was a much nicer handwriting, and in English no less. Written down were the words, "I hope you win. I want to be like you when I am older." Without a word or other reaction, Lawrence carefully folded the letter, and tucked it into the pocket of his uniform.
11:25 AM, South of Abu Qir
Two lines of eighteen tanks each faced one another, their crews before them. Though Antwerp had a few more, they had been kind to limit themselves to Bridlington's number. The Antwerp team had a deal of confidence. The two monsters of steel that were the O-Is sat idle, easily the largest machines on the field. Lawrence and Walker were deep in last minute strategic conversation, as Hensley gave the crews and their machines another quick inspection. Ammunition was plentiful. Fuel would easily last the round. The Lieutenant was quite pleased, and reported the satisfactory results to the Major.
"Very good Hensley. I do believe it's just about time."
Hensley could sometimes swear the Major had built a clock into his head, as the beginning game rituals were near immediately underway. Lawrence and the leader of the Antwerp club shook hands, and wished each other well. The Bridlington team gave a salute, which was returned by the Antwerp girls. The two teams then embarked, and began the drive to their starting positions.
A soft voice over the radio spoke out. "Badger 4 here, all good on the plan Major?"
Lawrence nodded to his radioman, who laughed a bit as he responded. "Aye Badger 4, proceed as planned. Set up in the town and get ready."
Two nights prior…
Eighteen were seated around a table in the "war-room", an empty classroom appropriated by the Major for the club. A height map of the field was in the center. They had debated fervently on the subject of tactics, having broken briefly for tea. Lawrence had said he wanted to find something, and left just as the break had begun. Keeping his renown for punctuality intact, he threw open the door at promptly four thirty. He laid another map down, this of the town to the north of the field, Abu Qir.
No one said anything, knowing full well the Major would explain himself. The devilish grin on Lawrence's face relented at this, but only slightly. Apparently he had hoped for someone to question his idea. He quickly recovered, and carried on.
"This, my friends, is the town of Abu Qir. As I'm sure you know, it is the peninsular town due north of where the battle will be set." Silence. He carried on, unperturbed. "The League's decided size of battlefields being as it is…" He took a pen from the table, and drew a line halfway through a small man-made harbor on the side of the town, easily including more than half of Abu Qir. "All of this is fair ground. The townspeople will most certainly be brought beyond that line a distance, allowing us to use their town for our advantage."
At this, Hensley spoke up. "I thought our mobility was our surprise, and our advantage. Wouldn't putting ourselves in a city take this away from us?"
Lawrence waved a maniacal finger in his direction, eyes gleaming. "Would it? With their machines' sizes and shapes, maneuvering the town would be even harder on them." He grew more serious with his next consideration. "Besides, our armour is rather lacking. This is why our Churchills will stay back and give them a bit of a fight, while our lighter machines make for cover."
The group spent another good hour going over the "what-ifs" and contingencies, but the bare bones of the strategy had been decided.
11:45 AM
The signal to start was given. The main body of the Bridlington team made north, while the Badger group moved forward to open up on the enemy. There was but a gentle hill separating Bridlington's machines from the enemy. Walker gave a farewell salute to Lawrence as he led the rest of the forces away, before sitting down and shutting the hatch.
Lawrence too disappeared into his. His group plowed forward as fast as possible, beginning to crest the hill. Truth be told, Lawrence didn't care if all his Churchills were knocked out. Being an elimination match, the rest of his team could very well win without him. If he could bite and hold them for a short bit, his forces could reach cover and set the ambush. He could very well take down a few of the enemy as well.
As they rose, he saw that he was right to assume his plan would work. Clearly, they had expected that Bridlington would bring slower machines, rather than what they had. Antwerp had sent four tanks down the road to Abu Qir, but the rest were making to the hill. Including their heavies. Machine guns and cannon unloaded on Badger group, but their armor bounced the first rounds. A volley went off from them, hitting a few of the enemy, but there was no time to assess damage. More rounds from the enemy were inbound. The exchange of fire was brief, and afterword, the Antwerp team moved toward the town in victory. Lawrence popped out, overlooking the field. One Chi-Ri, two Chi-Nu, and a Chi-Ro had been disabled.
"Well, hardly an awful trade." He peered north, feeling successful as he saw the last Cromwell round the corner of a building into the town. He then turned his attention to those opponents who had been knocked out. Some had pulled themselves from their machines. "It may be a small while before the recovery trucks come." He lifted himself out, and produced a pack of cards from his jacket. "Poker? Whist? Anyone?"
…
Hensley led his group through the town, then gave his commanders the order they longed to hear. "Break away, break away. Pick your targets wisely and fire at will. Good hunting lads." The Comets scattered, his own steaming down an alley. In the small square they found themselves in, they pulled in against the wall, with their gun aimed down the alley they came from. They watched as the rest of their team drove on, then stood in wait.
They hardly had to wait long, as the enemy mediums came quickly behind the Cromwells, rounds flying up and down the street. One enemy, a Chi-To he supposed, took a shot to the tracks and stopped in front of the alley. "Fire!" The shot hit square in the side of the turret, and the white inoperable flag popped from its container.
"Forward, cut off the ones that got past. Get the gun reloaded!" Bishop 1 sped forward, quickly turning the turret so as not to strike the gun against the shop before them. They pulled just into another alley, and paused briefly. A light tank would be their next prey, a Chi-He that was in pursuit of a fleeing Cromwell. They quickly put a shot in its side, and the tank was down. Another machine rolled up, and Hensley couldn't have been less concerned as to what it was. "Reverse, reverse! Put us around the building."
The shot struck them as they began to enter the turn, thankfully bouncing off and striking the shop instead. Rubble and dust quickly filled the viewports. "Continue reversing, get us into the street."
As they pulled out onto a main road, smashing a small stall of sorts, Walker shouted over the radio. "This is Rook 1, sound off! Who's left?"
Hensley's radioman shouted back. "Bishop 1 still standing." Similar reports were belted over the comms. In total, nine were left. They were down one Comet, all the Churchills, and three Cruisers.
Walker spoke out cheerily to this. "Bloody good form boys! Get to rendezvous point B. The O-Is met us at A." Quite pleased himself, Hensley reaffirmed the order. Bishop 1 sped off down the road, firing a parting shot at their earlier assailant. The round bounced harmlessly, striking another building instead.
…
Bishop 1 crashed through a wall into the square, apparently disrupting a moment of calm, as their team's turrets quickly spun, turning back once they saw it was one of their own. Hensley popped open the hatch, seeing Walker had done the same already. "Alright Captain, plan?" Walker nodded, and pointed down a road opposite where Hensley's tank had entered. "Lead Bishop 3 and the Brigand group down that road. Set up at the naval academy. Rook 5 and I will buzz about their ranks a bit. I think we have a way to deal with the O-I's."
Hensley cocked an eyebrow. "Both of them?" To this, Walker offered only a shrug. Hensley reentered his tank and shut the hatch. The plan was relayed to the others, and the Cromwells and Comets sped down the road.
Walker watched as they left, then slipped back into his own vehicle. "Alright lads. I promised a plan, and though it isn't a robust one, it is a plan." He rubbed his palms together, and nodded to his driver and radioman. "Ramming speed boys."
…
Aliza's expertise of command had served her well in matches prior. But the Bridlington team was different than her expectations. Contrary to most of the British teams she had faced, they chose to play for mobility rather than armor. No matter, she thought. Antwerp still had an advantage of two tanks, had she counted correctly. And both her heavies were in play. She was roused from her slight doze by her driver's report that they were on the road toward the next point of interest. The O-I certainly made for a comfortable ride.
The elevated road they were on made way straight to a naval academy building. No doubt, being a relatively defensible location, that's where Bridlington was off to. Her mediums sped ahead of the heavies, meaning to hold them in place until the big guns arrived. As the last one passed by, however, she was startled by a shot striking the side of her tank. "We aren't moving Frau Aliza!" Shouted her driver. "We've lost a track!"
"Was?" Aliza peered through each viewport she could, finally spotting the Cruisers speeding forward. The second put a shot into Antwerp's second O-I. This one struck above the tracks, in the flat of the armor. The inoperable flag popped up. "Feuer frei!" She gave the order, but the crusader struck into the side at full speed. Neither was knocked out, but now neither could move, or likely repair their tracks. The O-I's turret turned ever so slowly, neither machine gun able to hit the Cruiser. The main gun was nearly turned, when the one that had rammed her fired a second shot, above where the tracks were. The flag popped from the turret top.
The commander of the now stopped Cruiser threw open the hatch, as did his compatriot. The one who had ruined his tracks shouted to the other. "Go; put some shots in their backs!" The other disappeared, and the vehicle sped away, barely scraping the other O-I.
Aliza climbed from her vehicle, and glared at the smug looking commander. "…Scheiße."
…
Hensley watched as the Antwerp tanks moved cautiously through the gates of the naval academy, busted down to look as though Bridlington had entered. The Bridlington machines lay in ambush, in alleys or behind buildings, waiting on his signal to go. He noticed that neither O-I was present, but he noted that could be due entirely to their speed. That is, until one of the Cruisers sped down the road they had come from.
With renewed determination, Hensley gave the order, quickly relayed by his radioman. The pincers of the trap closed, and what was left of the battle was simply putting down those who persisted.
4:12 PM, Alexandria
It had been a decisive victory for Bridlington. Seven left operable to none, and an excellent display of tactics. Even the Major had been thoroughly entertained, managing to find some girls in Antwerp who were interested in learning whist. The Major had even lost a round.
Much to the visible chagrin of Aliza, Bridlington's convoy was applauded and cheered on as they made way to the dock. Lawrence made particular care to slide down to the side of the Cromwell he rode and hand a small boy a note. Though it was in English, he was sure whoever had translated the boy's own note would tell him what he said. The Bridlington tank club made their way up to the ship, and waved back to the crowd which had come to see them off. Despite their leader's poor sportsmanship, several other Antwerp girls were stood in the crowd, bidding them good luck for their future.
The club lined up in their regular fashion, awaiting the address from the Major. Lawrence turned, eyeing them all. As the ship left the dock, and after he made sure no one was there other than them, his seriousness faded. He leapt up, fist raised in victorious celebration. Seeing their leader was just as excited as they were, the order was broken, and their lines soon became a mess of hugs, handshakes, and cries of success. It was the first time since Lawrence had taken the reigns that they never formally adjourned for the day.
