About Two Hours Later 15 Kilometers West of Bruhl Approximately 1400 Hours ("2 o'clock PM") 13th April 1935

Acting Sergeant Alicia Melchiott had appropriated the missing captain's civilian touring car. Corporal Abigail Thatcher, the Militia Company Clerk had prudently retrieved the vehicle when Captain Van Allen had ordered the Town Watch, other militia, and volunteers to the final Rally Point to prepare to retreat. Although they had been able to drive away from Bruhl at almost ten kilometers an hour, at first, the horses and mules could not sustain that pace for long. Once they caught up with the refugees who were walking, actually trudging along, they were barely retreating at three kilometers an hour.

Lance Corporal Elsa Siemens jury-rigged the only long-range military radio the Bruhl militia had, so it could be operated using the car's battery. Typical of most military radios it used the AM frequency band, and although rugged, it was not all that reliable. Elsa "Sparky" Siemens did her best, but it seemed that the Imperials were jamming much of the spectrum, so they were not able to reach any other units of the Gallian armed forces, other than Welkin's personal tank.

The column of refugees from Bruhl and the surrounding areas had finally reached the even smaller village of Sandersburg. The local Burgermeister did not provide any relief for the desperate people who had been driven out of their homes. Instead the officious buffoon hindered their progress west by berating the militia for failing to prevent the armed forces of the Osterreich's Wehrmacht from violating the neutrality of Gallia, and the bedraggled refugees for clogging the streets of his orderly little burg. He ordered the dozen members of the Sandersburg Watch, and some recently mustered Militia to turn the column around and send them back to Bruhl.

Acting Sergeant Alicia Melchiott called upon Nina Streiss, Joachim Gottlieb, Riley Shafer, Gretchen Hapka, and Eugene Burghoff to form a wedge at the front of the column. Noce Wordsworth clambered out of the truck he had been riding in, several other wounded members of the militia hobbled along as fast as possible after him, to lend their strength to Sergeant Melchiott's phalanx.

Alicia's voice might have trembled a bit as she ordered the Bruhl Militia, "Forward March!"

Perhaps they were lacking parade ground precision, many of them did not even step off on the correct foot, never-the-less, they displayed determination, and confidence in a leader who had proven herself in combat. Abigail Thatcher put Captain Van Allen's touring car into gear, and it moved forward steadily behind the soldiers of the Bruhl Militia. Elsa "Sparky" Siemens stood in the back of the car brandishing a Lewis Gun above the heads of the Sandersburg Watch; only she knew that there was no ammunition in the pan magazine.

The middle-aged captain of the Sandersburg Watch would not meet Alicia's eyes, hanging his head, he slunk away. The other members of the watch scattered like mercury, as the red-faced Burgermeister yelled imprecations at all and sundry. The folks from Bruhl began trudging west once more. After they had cleared the confines of Sandersburg, Alicia climbed back into the missing captain's touring car, where she could use the radio to talk to Welkin when necessary. For the most part only the wounded, elderly, and the children rode on the motley collection of carts, wagons, and motor vehicles. Welkin stood tall in the hatch of the Edelweiss, facing the back of the tank, which was travelling in reverse, about a hundred meters behind the last vehicle in the convoy. He was constantly informing his sister Isara of the path she would need to follow but could not see. His adopted sister was so deft with the controls, by-standers did not even consider that she was driving blind.

No situation is so bad that it can not get worse. Around 1530 hours Alicia spotted a plume of dust several kilometers to the west, between the refugees and potential safety. Even standing on the front seat, Alicia could not observe whom or what was raising the cloud of dust on the road ahead, because of the rolling terrain in this part of Eastern Gallia. Among the rolling hills were many copses of trees, interspersed with pastures, patches of brambles, and the occasional farm or a stream. Terrain quite suitable for defense, except for the need to protect the exhausted refugees.

"W-wel-kin. D-do you see that?" perhaps it was the faulty radio, or trying to speak while standing up in a moving car, or maybe the teenage girl was concerned about her almost overwhelming responsibilities.

"I see the plumes of dust. However, I cannot determine what is razing it. It seems to be multiple sources." Welkin confirmed.

Before Alicia could respond to his radio message, Welkin switched his headset to intercom mode and said, "Is, halt. Go forward, and immediately turn left. There is a threat at the front of the column, we are going to travel parallel to the road, so that we are in a better position if there is trouble. Loader, Load AP. Gunner, unknown targets on the road several kilometers to the West."

As soon as Welkin had said turn left, Isara had stopped the tank, just as quickly she had engaged the forward gears, and turned to the left. As smoothly as possible, she navigated the Edelweiss through the ditch on the side of the country road. Deftly she shifted through the gears until they were in fourth gear, travelling at forty kilometers per hour. Welkin braced himself in the commander's hatch for a wild ride. The Edelweiss was throwing up a rooster tail of loam as high as the top of the turret, and the motor was roaring with unleashed power.

Welkin was pleasantly surprised that the Edelweiss had a smoother ride across the undulating terrain, even though it was moving much faster than the old tanks left over from the Great War he had used in training. Perhaps it was because of the superbly designed and manufactured suspension, that was just one of the many innovations of Professor Theimer. Certainly, the professor's daughter, and for many years now, Welkin's sister, was a better driver than anyone he had encountered in his training, including instructors.

The relatively smooth ride allowed the other crew members to perform their duties as the Edelweiss sped along cross country. Welkin heard Gerald Grosswald, the loader say "Up" on the intercom, informing both the gunner, and Welkin, that he had loaded an Armor Piercing shell into the breach of the 77mm main gun of the Edelweiss. Just a moment after hearing that the cannon was loaded, Kimberly Rettig said "Indexing AP." Then the turret began to traverse in a narrow arc, like a bloodhound seeking a scent.

Isara, like Welkin, had her hatch open, she had the driver's seat raised to its highest setting, giving her a better perspective of the terrain, contributing to her ability to navigate the Edelweiss adroitly, and at a faster speed. Since she did not need Welkin to pay as close attention to the path their tank was travelling, he was better able to scan for potential targets. As Welkin was scanning, he heard the loader's hatch clang open, Gerald's head and shoulders emerged so that he could assist Welkin, by scanning for potential threats from other sectors, while Welkin focused on the primary threat.

Welkin's mind raced quicker than the Edelweiss. Mere hours ago he had been intent upon assisting his sister, and the other people who lived on his father's estate, in making preparations to evacuate, due to the threat posed by a potential invasion by the Osterreich. Unfortunately, the threat was much greater than anticipated. Reconnaissance units of the Imperial Wehrmacht had already infiltrated past the Gallian Grenzers and other units guarding the border. Not just his father's estate, but his hometown of Bruhl had been occupied by invaders from the Osterreich!

Nearly as surprising, the members of his father's household had been making preparations, for quite a while. Not the least of which, several of the children of the closest companions of General Belgin Gunther had been training for years to function as the crew of an extremely advanced prototype tank, that unbeknownst to him, was being kept in a workshop on the grounds of the estate! His sister, Isara had known, yet he had been oblivious.

Often his teachers, and now his professors chided him to maintain focus. Modestly, he knew he was smart, yet he had to work so long, and so hard just to earn a B average. There were so many interesting things to learn, beyond the narrow confines of his assignments. Sometimes he would be so engrossed in what he had been reading about the migratory patterns of the Roebuck Deer, that the crack of dawn also brought a realization that he would have to rush to complete the term paper about the Klodden Wildwood he had been assigned two weeks ago.

Welkin glanced over at Gerald, who flashed him a cheerful smile before pivoting in his hatch so that he could observe the sectors to the right, or "3 o'clock" through roughly "8 o'clock" ("6 o'clock" was directly behind the tank). Allowing Welkin to focus on whatever might be raising those clouds of dust several kilometers West of the head of the refugee column. Welkin was envious of the prototype "tanker's" coveralls, and body armor that his loader and gunner were wearing. Despite how adroitly Isara drove the Edelweiss, occasionally, mostly due to road conditions, or other terrain, the vehicle would lurch, and Welkin would bruise his ribs, or arm against the rim of the hatch.

Truthfully, he was more than a little envious of Gerald's manly appearance, despite the fact that he was still only a teenager. He was a "chip of the old block" nearly a dead ringer for his father, Master Sergeant Rutger Grosswald, who served as the Gunner on General Belgan Gunter's personal tank during the Great War. Both father and son had the ideal build for a tanker, a bit shorter than average, but muscular, actually there would be times where broad shoulders were inconvenient, but Gerald was able to handle the shells for the main gun, and many other physical tasks effortlessly.

It was not just his manly build, Gerald always seemed to sport a "5 o'clock shadow" and had since he was about thirteen-years-old. Even as a kid Gerald seemed more imposing, despite his short stature, even before his chest and shoulders started filling out. He exuded a presence that made him seem imposing, a trait he shared with his father. Because he was a few years older than Gerald, Welkin did not encounter him much during his primary schooling in Bruhl. Mostly he remembered him as the feisty goalie when they played football (soccer for many Americans).

Despite his father being one of the greatest Gallian heroes of the Great War, Welkin had never considered himself part of the elite. Thinking back on his first days at the university however, he realized he had been invited to rush for several renowned fraternities, but he was too busy with his studies to bother. None-the-less, he had been invited to a number of parties, he had even attended a few. Although he knew that most people were not interested in long discussions about mollusks, or the spawning patterns of trout, he would get so nervous at these hoity-toity soirees, that he just couldn't help himself. Yet he realized he knew very little about Gerald, or Kimberly Rettig, whose mother had been one of General Gunter's most valued staff officers, and ever since the war she was the steward of the Gunter estate; nor did he know that much about anyone in Bruhl other than Isara and Martha, their Nanny, and effectively their surrogate mother.

Welkin shook his head, while he had been wool gathering, most of a Squadron of Cavalry had come into sight. Fortunately, they appeared to be Gallian, most likely they were Yeomanry, mounted formations of the Gallian Militia, many with long and honored histories and unique traditions. They were looked on with considerably less contempt by most of the Regulars in the Gallian Army. Mostly because you had to be able to afford your own horse, and equipment, so it helped to be rich. Although some troopers of proven riding ability, or other talents, had their mounts provided by a superior officer, or even the Colonel-in-Chief of a Regiment. Many of the best polo players in Gallia also were members of a Regiment of Yeomanry, so were most of the participants in Equestrian events in the Olympics.

The Edelweiss came parallel to the head of the column of refugees about the same time that the Squadron of Yeomanry did. For reasons unknown to Welkin, the cavalry did not bypass the refugee convoy but continued pressing forward until both columns had to stop. An individual dressed like a circus ring master, who rode a magnificent white stallion was apparently yelling at Alicia Melchiott, who was yelling back at him. Even before Welkin gave the order, Isara was driving toward where the commotion was escalating. Despite having shifted down to third gear, and decelerating to about fifteen kilometers an hour, several of the spirited stallions pranced sideways, or reared in excitement when the Edelweiss lurched to a sudden stop.

"Damn You, You Uppity Peasant! Clear this Rabble from My path! I have a Vital Mission, and you Peasant Scum are interfering with My Schedule!" Roared the florid faced officer.

"With all due respect, Sir, your Mission is to Protect the Citizens of Gallia! It would be much easier for your horses to go around these people, and it would take much less time too." Alicia argued.

"You Insubordinate Wench! Who is the incompetent Burgher who has pretentions of being a miserable excuse of an officer, even for the Militia!" Demanded Major Humperdinck, the commander of the Squadron of Yeomanry.

"Sir, Our commanding officer is Captain Van Allen." Alicia said.

"Where is that pathetic coward hiding, and why is he allowing a little girl to lead this gypsy caravan?"

Red faced, Alicia shouted back, "How Dare You! Captain Van Allen is Missing, Presumed Dead! He Sacrificed His Life, along with many of our friends, to provide these people a chance to escape the combat zone! His last orders to us are to escort them out of danger."

"Well, these wretched rabble Are In Danger if they are still blocking the road for one more minute!" Snarled an eagle-beaked officer in a uniform resplendent enough for a Major General, but was more likely a Captain, if Welkin read his epaulettes correctly.

Another junior officer in a splendidly tailored uniform, mounted upon a magnificent black stallion issued a perfunctory order that would have been more impressive, if his voice had not cracked in the midst of it. "You heard Captain von Endekussen! Disperse Rabble!"

Perhaps it was nerves, but when the arrogant junior officer's voice cracked like an adolescent, Alica and several other members of the Bruhl Militia laughed, or at least tittered nervously. Some of the town folk from Brulh, and other refugees, had recovered a bit of energy during the brief pause, and they had begun to drift forward to see what the commotion was. The more they heard what the Yeomanry officers said, the citizen's lethargy was being transformed to outrage. The head of the refugee column was transforming into a frustrated and desperate mob!

Red faced, the colicky junior officer drew his pistol, pointed it at Alicia, and squealed, "Damn You, Bitch!"

"GUNNER! Co-Ax! Arseholes In The Open!" Barked Lance Corporal Grosswald as he drew his revolver and cocked it as he pointed it at the Yeomanry Officer.

"WHOA! I-I mean, Check Fire! Don't Shoot! Anyone! The Enemy is Thataway!" Welkin yelled, while gesturing to the east.

Now that he had their attention, Welkin explained, "the trafficability of the terrain on either side of the road is excellent. In fact the loam is better for the hooves of your horses than this hard packed road…"

"What in the Blue Blazes is a Civilian doing in a Tank! Where did the Militia get a Tank such as That, Anyway?" demanded the senior Yeomanry Officer.

"Actually sir, this is not a tank. It is a prototype designed by my father, and rejected by the Gallian Army. So, our father had it officially registered as a Tractor, Rural, Special Purpose. It belongs to my brother and me, and we have the paperwork. We are even displaying the proper license plate." Isara said.

"Treason! They are letting a Damn Stinking Dark Hair operate that dangerous Contraption!" Shrilled the florid faced junior officer, as he shifted the aim of his revolver from Alicia to Isara.

"Gadzooks! It is a Damned Darcsen!" Exclaimed Major Humperdinck.

Scrambling out of the commander's hatch, and down from the turret to interpose his body between Isara and the pistol held by the supercilious officer, Welkin stated, "She is My Sister, and the Daughter of General Belgin Gunter! And If you don't holster that pistol, I-I'll… You won't like where I put it!"

Noticing the number of weapons being brandished by the citizens of Bruhl, and that most of the enlisted yeomanry were backing their horses from the proximity of the Edelweiss, Major Humperdinck ordered, "Column. Half-Right, Maaarrrrch!"

As the last of the Yeomanry cavalry rode away, Welkin released a breath he did not realize he had been holding. He turned and tried to climb back on top of the turret of the Edelweiss, but his hands were shaking, and his legs turned to rubber. Before he embarrassed himself further, Gerald leaned forward, well out of his hatch, he clasped his hand around Welkin's right forearm, and practically lifted him bodily atop the turret. Weakly, Welkin slipped into the commander's hatch, he noticed that Alicia had been watching him, he felt his face flush. He felt shame that she had witnessed his weakness. He was shocked when she flashed him a beautiful smile, and he blushed even more.

"It takes a lot of guts to climb out from behind all of this armor, to use your body to shield Isara! I'm Proud to be in your service Welkin!" Gerald said.

It was surreal to Welkin. His neighbors, strangers, his fellow citizens and townsfolk of Bruhl, were waving to him, or giving him a thumbs up. A few even cheered as they walked or rode past. Couldn't they tell how terrified he had been; still was. They had lost so much, everything they had worked their whole lives for. Many had friends or family members who were wounded, missing, or dead. His father, the General would have figured out a way to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat.

Welkin had no idea how to do anything other than to muddle on.