So I took up World of Tanks – bad move. Spend most of my time raging at why they put tier 3 light tanks into tier 5 games. Note that a KV-1 will not be hurt by a 38t, no matter how much GUP can contest it.
One of the reviews I received for last chapter asked me to clarify why my cadets were drinking. Well, in Britain, where both I and the academy are from, the legal age for consuming alcohol is 18yrs of age. Pearce, and the majority of his fellow cadets are of this age. I know some people might think this fic is progressing slowly, but I think I need to develop my characters a little before I throw them into the tournament, as well as give them some practice in their vehicles. One other point that was made was that I seem to use captain for both Pearce and Hart. Pearce is the team captain, and Hart is an actual captain, so it might happen. Blame military terms and a lack of distinction.
Anyway, here is my next chapter. Enjoy.
14 Jan – Wednesday – Carrier Dauntless, Wellesley Academy – 0900hrs
The third day of practice was overcast and somewhat dull, with a chance of rain later in the day and a biting wind sweeping the deck plating. This denoted that Wellesley academy was docked in its home port, having arrived late last night, and Britain's typical weather was beginning to get to them. Some of the cadets had coats on over their uniforms to keep the cold out, and their instructor had done the same, donning a waterproofed coat with the academy crest over his heart. Pearce had augmented his gear with a pair of black leather gloves. As Hart took his place in front of the formation of students, a collective crash of boots slamming together signalled the students coming to attention, each ramrod straight with arms by their sides.
"Good morning students," greeted Hart, receiving a chorus of greetings in return.
"Since yesterday was to get you acquainted with basic functions of the vehicles, today is to introduce the actual skills of tanking to you. I gave you a series of set ranged targets yesterday to practice firing and reloading, but today we are upping the ante. You will have to contend with both fixed and moving targets, which will return fire on you should you miss or be too exposed. These targets are none other than our senior students, who have graciously volunteered to help today, as they are back from shore leave."
Hart gestured towards the sheds marked as used by the seniors, some of which opened slowly to reveal some of the academy's senior team, each garage no longer empty. Three Churchill MkVII tanks, two Sherman fireflies, four Cromwell tanks and a lone Centurion Mk1 occupied the sheds. A tall black haired boy emerged from the shed containing the Centurion, evidently the team leader for the seniors, and strolled over to Hart.
"Some of you may be well acquainted with James Agnew, our captain amongst the seniors. I contacted him for advice on setting up practice drills and he kindly offered to assist us in training you guys up for the league. My counterpart instructor, Major William Thomas, will be returning this afternoon and may join us as well. I'll let James fill you in on this drill," Hart finished.
The 21yr old senior surveyed the assembled cadets with a critical eye.
"Today, as Captain Hart has said, will test your ability to manoeuvre, take accurate shots and hit moving targets. Basically, our tanks will disperse across the combat zone and act as sentries, so we won't be hunting you directly, but will be patrolling the entire practice area, some sat still and some following prescribed routes. Your job is to take our vehicles out, or avoid being taken out. If you want to take away a lesson form this drill, I advise you not to hide for its duration or you will learn next to nothing. We will do this drill several times today, interspersed with standard target practice, which will help build your range-finding ability. So, if you'll give us 20 minutes to set up, and Captain Hart sends you in at 0930, we can get this underway."
The slightly broad accent of the senior gave away his origins in the north of England, his brusque tones carrying to all the assembled cadets.
"That should do nicely, James. We'll see you in the combat zone," said Hart.
Agnew nodded, and jogged back to his vehicles, barking orders to his crews as he did so. Pearce picked up something about 'schooling these rookies', and determined to ensure he succeeded in this drill. Being belittled by Agnew was not something that Pearce found amusing, and the arrogant senior needed to learn that.
Hart did a quick assessment of each vehicle in both teams. The senior team possessed the Mk1 Centurion tank, a fearsome tank that was only just finished before VE-Day. A design for a 'universal' tank, the Centurion possessed fearsome armour on its turret, 152mm thick, although its hull was somewhat less threatening at 76mm on the front, although heavily sloped, and 38mm on the sides and rear. The Mk1 also had a 17 pounder gun as its primary weapon, a fearsome weapon often given to tank destroyers. While not necessarily as fast as most tanks, as it was the primary incarnation of the vehicle, the Centurion was a dangerous foe. Both teams possessed A27M Cromwell tanks of the MkV category, equipped with welded hulls and a 75mm gun. The armour, roughly equivalent to a Sherman's in thickness, but unsloped, was 76mm on the front, but applique plates could be welded onto the hull if necessary, which could be later gambit for the Wellesley cadets. A powerful medium tank, the Cromwell sat low to the ground, and its Meteor engine gave it a dangerous speed, so much so that the gearbox had to be toned back to prevent suspension damage. They would be the mainstay of Wellesley's forces. The upgrade to the Cromwell, the Comet, was driven by Hobart team, and although slightly slower, it carried a 77mm HV (High Velocity) gun and similar armour to the Cromwell, yet sloped.
The Churchill MkVII provided the armoured 'heavy corps' of the Wellesley brigade. At 152mm thick on the front, and 95mm on the sides and turret rear, the armour plate on the cumbersome Churchill tank was fearsome, supplemented by a 75mm gun. For firepower, the senior team possessed the Sherman Firefly. A British modified tank, which mounted a 17 pounder gun in the chassis of the original American Sherman, the tank possessed fearsome firepower, although the blinding flash and recoil of the main gun earned the tank its nickname by blinding the crew every time it fired. A sloped 76mm glacis plate protected the front armour, but otherwise the tank was average in speed and manoeuvrability. It fulfilled the role of sniper in the tank team. For the junior team, the M10 Achilles was the sniper, using the same gun as the Firefly. With only 57mm of frontal armour, the Achilles was vulnerable, but it was possessed of a good turn of speed and rapid manoeuvrability, allowing it to escape dangerous situations swiftly. The junior team also possessed an M24 Chaffee, which would be useful as a scout, but still possessed the firepower of a Sherman with a 75mm gun. It had to rely on its speed to survive fire, with only 38mm maximum armour.
Hart's attention finally swivelled to the final tank available to his teams, the Tiger 131. A towering behemoth, although admittedly not the largest or most powerful tank fielded in the war, the Tiger was a fearsome sight. Capable of 45km/h, despite weighing 54 tonnes, the Tiger had a fair turn of speed. The 88mm in the front of the tank was a precision weapon capable of wrecking a Sherman at a 2km range, while the tank itself possessed a 100mm thick front plate of maraging steel, which while not sloped, could stop all but the most powerful of munitions dead. Sadly, the Tiger was a complex beast and required regular maintenance to keep running, although it seemed that this would not be an issue with the engineers present. The instructor had to conclude that the variety and number of vehicles available to Wellesley was superb, although being a military academy and having a senior team certainly helped in that regard.
By this point the senior team had moved their tanks, and so the junior cadets each headed to their vehicles, checking them over quickly to ensure full functionality, and calling over Elliot if they found any faults. Settling into his commander's chair, Pearce reached for his transmitter. Clipping it on, he quickly assembled all of the other teams onto the same wavelength so they could communicate.
"Our instructor laid out this exercise as a survival mission against the seniors, each tank for themselves. However, he did not explicitly forbid cooperation between teams. I think that may have been deliberate. If we consider that even set to fixed routes and responses, the seniors will be communicating between each other, and we could find ourselves picked off individually. I for one want to beat them, even if it is only a small victory."
"Where are you going with this Pearce?" came the irritated voice of Clark through the radio.
"We should work together. Better to fight coordinated than divided."
"I'm guessing that would be coordinated under your command? I'll take my chances," replied Clark, before cutting the radio contact.
"Anyone else not happy with me leading?" queried Pearce calmly.
"No issues here," said Elliot.
"Lead on, Sam," responded Chris in his usual drawl.
The other teams also affirmed their willingness to cooperate, Russell team a little begrudgingly. They evidently thought teamwork reduced the potential for glory.
"Superb," radioed Pearce, "We'll split into two tank teams, Wavell and Russell, Montgomery and Clinton, Hobart and Allenby, and Marlborough and Roberts. Taylor, Rowley, Armstrong and Jones will be commanding each of these teams. If we sweep areas together, have more chance of knocking each tank out. Watch out for the Centurion though, that tank has a 17 pounder gun and over 100mm of armour. You'll either need to be in close or leave it to the Tiger, Comet or Achilles. Ready?"
As each tank team voiced their approval, Hart smiled. Sat in the jeep he had used the previous day, he was listening in on the communications of each team. At least Pearce had picked up on that deliberate loophole in the rules, and the team's willingness to follow orders, barring Clark, promised potential for the upcoming matches.
Once the seniors were in place, Hart signalled for the tanks to roll into the practice area. The Chaffee disappeared into the woods first, while each team pair spread out so as to cover the practice zone. Heading into the practice area from the west gate, Wavell and Russell team took the extreme north, Montgomery and Clinton south of them, with Hobart and Allenby adjacent to them, and Marlborough and Roberts covering the right flank. The aim was to sweep west to east, encountering and destroying the patrols one by one. Pearce had no doubt that when the seniors lost several tanks in quick succession they would turn this drill into a practice match, retaliating with full force. Pearce had observed that Agnew had the general air of a man who did not take defeat well about him, so dismantling his drill and then destroying his team would be enjoyable, as well as taking his ego down a peg or two. It would obviously have the double effect of boosting his own reputation as well, but Pearce was more concerned by the morale of his team. If they won, even in an asymmetrical situation, it would give them a confidence boost for the first round.
"Begin advance," he radioed.
(The Duke of York's march)
From their starting position on a slope in the north, Wavell team began to move. Russell team went in front of the Achilles, using their superior armour to cover the tank destroyer. Adjusting their course slightly to avoid a copse of trees, they drew to a halt as they discovered the first obstacle: one of the Churchills, idling in the dead ground. Hurriedly reversing back behind the copse, Russell team radioed Wavell team, still halfway back up the slope.
"They're dug in to some low ground, facing at about a right angle from our position. I reckon we can take em, they should be slow on the traverse in that Churchill right? I'll get behind them and pop a round in the back of that lumbering hunk of scrap."
"Sure, but be careful, they might expect it, so be sure you can hit it and take it out," responded Chris.
Russell team had already gone. Pushing their Meteor engine to the limit, they hurtled down the slope. Spotting the enemy as soon as they made their rush, the Churchill steadily rotated towards its target, but the Cromwell was faster, getting round the back of the Churchill with relative ease, giving Jake, the gunner, ample time to place a shot. Sadly, their emphasis on speed in the previous day's training had left a mark, and the Cromwell slammed a shot into the turret, which had nearly finished its turn towards them, and the round ricocheted away. Fortunately for the team, Wavell team was neither over-zealous nor inaccurate, having rolled down the slope into position with care. Hannah fired the 17 pounder straight into the rear armour at a 400m range. Needless to say, the tank was knocked out, a small white surrender flag emerging from the hatch.
"Nice one, I'll buy ya a drink later for that, and any others you get today," offered Chris.
"I'd rather not," replied Hannah.
Amy was somewhat less polite.
"Hey! Stop flirting with my sister! What would Katherine say if I told her?" she shouted.
Chris visibly paled at the thought. Turning his attention back to the task at hand, he radioed a knockout confirmation to the other vehicles and then began organising his team.
"You realise that a second or so later and you'd have been history, yeah?"
"Shut up! We could have taken them," came the indignant response of Russell team.
Chris rolled his eyes.
"Troublesome."
The sound of gunfire had galvanised Clinton team into action, Katherine having apparently decided that the steady pace they had been setting was not acceptable. However, achieving a higher speed was somewhat difficult without leaving behind Pearce's Tiger, which was making only an average speed at best up the hill they were attempting to climb. Deciding to forge ahead, Katherine's Cromwell crested the ridge to spot two of the Cromwells patrolling an open area, making looping courses about half a mile in length. Shuffling into a tall bush to avoid detection, Katherine decided to consult Pearce.
"There are two Cromwells patrolling in the open ground, covering each other. They'll be difficult shots at the distance we are at if we want to stay concealed. What do we do?"
"I put you in charge Katherine, so you can tell me. To offer some advice, the Cromwell will struggle against the front armour of my vehicle, but if they can get behind the Tiger, they'll have me dead to rights, but their gun is still a little on the weak side to take me on. Keep scanning the field, I doubt that two unsupported Cromwells are willingly being so exposed without backup nearby," Pearce offered.
Katherine continued to scan the field, which was bordered on three sides by hedgerows, loose enough for tanks to roll throw, and on the other edge, a small stream, 10m across, which was fordable. In the hedgerow opposite, she picked out a small cylindrical object. A muzzle brake. Evidently, one of the Sherman fireflies was concealed within the hedgerow, and the overly long barrel on the vehicle was just peeking out from amidst the foliage.
"I see the beginnings of a barrel, it must be one of the fireflies. I don't think we can take them easily without support," she said.
"Then perhaps Hobart and Allenby team might lend a hand?" offered Pearce.
Calling the Comet and the Churchill from their nearby allies, Katherine began to lay down a plan of attack. Hobart and Allenby would advance until parallel with the firefly, on the other side of the stream, and the engineers would use their speed to bear down on the sniper tank, while the Tiger knocked one of the Cromwells out at a distance with its main gun. Clinton team would flank left to complete the trap. Then, all teams would converge on the final vehicle, hoping to prohibit its escape. With any luck, they could catch the sentries off guard and knock them out.
Shifting through the rough terrain that comprised their section of the practice zone, Hobart and Allenby teams encountered no other vehicles, presumably because the rolling terrain seemed prohibitive to a tank advance. Reaching his designated start point, Elliot took out a pair of binoculars and observed the field. If he could get enough speed going, the Comet would be flying along by the time they reached the stream, giving them enough momentum to charge towards the firefly and catch it before it turned towards them.
"Right guys, when we get the signal, we need to put the pedal to the medal. Get the first round loaded, and then once Isaac gets us in position, I want Lucy to put a round right into its back plate," Elliot told his crew.
"Elliot, what happens if this plan doesn't work?" asked Luke, as he placed the shell into the receiver.
"Well, we might be in for a bad time," Elliot replied nonchalantly.
A similarly nonchalant attitude was taken by Allenby team in their vehicle; the only sign of serious commitment being that Liam had put down his book for the time being, and was instead helping his team plot its attack path.
The Tiger shifted slightly within the bushes, its 88mm training steadily onto one of the Cromwells which was traversing the field in front of them, while Clinton team moved behind their hedgerow to find a good position for their assault. Waiting for the point that the two senior team tanks passed each other, the teams tensed up. Once that moment occurred, the tanks sprang into action. Hobart team roared down the ridge they were perched upon, splashing straight through the stream and heading for the firefly, which slowly reacted to the threat approaching from the flank. Pushing the Meteor Mark III as hard as it could go, Hobart team got behind the firefly, which was slowly pivoting on the spot, and lined up their gun. The shot sheared away track links on the firefly's right side, but did not take the target out, and so the ominous long barrel of the firefly continued to pivot, forcing Hobart team to move.
"Shit!" swore Isaac as he manoeuvred the Comet round to the side of the Firefly, avoiding the turret.
"Keep going, we just need a solid hit," said Elliot.
At the same time, the report of a powerful weapon from the other side of the field signalled the commitment of the Tiger to the battle. A smoking crater appeared in front of one of the Cromwells, enough to hamper its movement, causing it to slew slightly to the side and lose velocity. A second round from the heavy tank then ploughed straight through its armour, knocking it out.
"Nice hit!" Andrew congratulated Liam, as he placed another 88mm round into the receiver.
"Keep it up," said Pearce.
"But it's so much effort, I don't wanna," replied Liam jokingly, slouching as he retargeted the turret onto the remaining Cromwell.
Allenby and Clinton teams, having taken position on each side of the field while the skirmish had taken its opening stages, emerged from the hedgerows, and began to fire towards the remaining Cromwell of the seniors. The Cromwell decided to go and support its partner, rather than fleeing as anticipated. Shots fired by the Tiger, Churchill and Cromwell all missed, gouging great divots into the earth, but otherwise falling short for fear of hitting their own ally, engaged up ahead. This gave the Cromwell opportunity, however, to train their gun on the Comet, which was evading the firefly's slowly rotating turret. Their shot, which would have been far more likely to kill when stationary, hammered into the Comet's left side, crushing the rearmost wheel on the tank. This did however, make the Comet stationary, and gave Lucy the chance to place a single round directly into the Firefly, knocking it out.
The senior tank then made good its escape, pushing their tank off to the east as fast as possible, most likely to find their commander.
"After them, we can't let them escape!" ordered Katherine, angry that one of the enemies had managed to escape.
"I advise caution," said Pearce.
"Why? We could definitely take them in a straight up fight."
"If we were to pursue them we could be drawn into an ambush, so I would advise we wait. There are still 7 enemy tanks out there, two of them well equipped to pick us off at a distance if we don't watch out, and we seem to have three operational vehicles at the moment. Elliot, how are you doing over there?"
"We're out of it. The idler wheel is completely shredded. If it was just the track, we could replace it, but we don't carry spares for the actual wheels at the moment. We might be able to in actual matches though, sorry about that," confirmed Elliot.
"You did your best Elliot, it was just rotten luck that you took that hit. Cancel the last order, we should regroup," said Katherine, "Allenby team, you're coming with us since your partner tank is out."
"Yes, ma'am. It would have been foolish of us to go alone, for while fortune favours the brave, temerity is not always successful, as Livy said," responded Liam.
"Furthermore," began Pearce, now broadcasting to all crews, "I believe that Agnew will not take the defeat of his tanks by ours so easily, and will endeavour to bring us down. I am now issuing a general order to all crews to converge on HF 109, where our current battle has just been concluded. Our forces will set up an ambush to catch the senior team, and even if I have misread our opponent, we will have lost nothing, for he will still be adhering to the rules of this practice session. All crews converging on our position, I expect you to wait a way off, out of sight, and I assume the rest will be obvious when the time comes."
Whilst the large skirmish had been ongoing, the M24 Chaffee of Campbell team was pursuing its own course across the south of the battlefield. Following a similar path to the one Allenby and Hobart teams had adhered to before they joined with Pearce and Armstrong, they sought to use the terrain, which would be more difficult to traverse for tanks heavier than theirs. However, having followed their tortuous path to its conclusion, they peered down from a wooded ridge to see an open plain to a large iron bridge, followed by another fairly open plain which tapered off into woods. To their right, on the flat ground, was the road that led to the bridge, curving steadily round the rough ground.
"What do we do, Angie? That's pretty open ground there, we could be spotted and get taken out," asked Louise, the Chaffee's loader.
"We heard fire a way off. I have to assume that was that arrogant bastard Pearce and his crews, trying to show us up. They might have drawn the enemy away from us. So I reckon we can just go for it, we're a small target and a fast one at that. Plus, we can prove how much better we are than the others, so full ahead," ordered Clark.
"But, Angie! What happened to being sneaky?!"
"I don't care, get this crate rolling!"
The Chaffee roared over the ridge and straight down the slope, heading straight for the bridge at top velocity, a small dust cloud in its wake. The tank crossed the plain rapidly, eating up the distance between themselves and the safe haven represented by the far woods. As the Chaffee hit the bridge, a shot lanced out from those very same woods, narrowly missing the little tank. The bright muzzle flash gave it away as another Firefly.
"Shit," vocalised Clark, eloquently summarising their situation, "Keep going! Cross the bridge and head off to the right. If we stop moving, we're screwed!"
"Then don't worry, Miss Clark. Right chaps, let's deploy and support our allies," another voice cut in on the radio, belonging to Simon, leader of Marlborough team.
Proceeding down the road near the Chaffee's original position was the unit composed of Marlborough and Roberts teams. The Churchill had taken the lead position, due to its thick frontal armour, and they evidently intended to confront the enemy in support of Campbell team.
"We don't need your help!" shouted Clark indignantly.
"If you would prefer us to withdraw so you can confront that Sherman by yourself, feel free to say so, but occasionally the knight needs the support of a peasant to win his battles," said Simon evenly.
"Fine, just don't get in our way," ordered Clark, "Girls, get the tank running round the side of the Sherman. Take a wide route, with any luck those idiots in the Churchill will become their new target."
The Chaffee took a wide route around the Sherman across the open plain, while the Churchill and the accompanying Cromwell crossed the bridge at top speed. The firefly fired again at the Chaffee, the backwash from the shell fire actually setting the brush on fire around the tank, outlining its position to the teams. The Churchill began to fire towards the smouldering foliage as it moved, while the Cromwell of Roberts team scampered out from behind the larger tank to the left of the plain. The Firefly's turret began to rotate towards the Churchill, evidently deciding on hitting the biggest target first, the APDS rounds carried being more than powerful enough to breech the armour of the Churchill. Seeing this, the Churchill began to weave slightly, to make aiming a little more difficult, which was rewarded when the next shot arced past their left flank.
Even as the tanks closed in, the Sherman did not retreat, evidently because the crew knew that they could not outpace and evade the two lighter tanks of the party, and so were resigned to fighting as best they could before being knocked out. The lush greenery that had surrounded the tank became pitted and scarred as shells from the Wellesley teams, and a light smoke drifted up from where the 17 pounder had burned the tank's cover.
The Chaffee came to a stop roughly 50m from their target, facing the Sherman's side armour. Training their gun sights onto the vehicle's left flank, the 75mm on the Chaffee spoke, but gouged a divot into the ground just short of their target. This allowed the Firefly to fire one more round at the steadily closing mark VII, which snapped the front right track segment of the tank and sheared a track guard away with a rending screech. Sadly, that was all the Firefly could do, as it was then hammered from either side by the Cromwell of Roberts team, which had arrived on the Sherman's right flank, while the Chaffee fired from the left. Who had actually hit the Firefly was impossible to determine, but needless to say once the smoke cleared, the tank was a wreck.
Following the battle with the four Wellesley teams, the fleeing Cromwell covered ground quickly, heading east towards the position of their team leader and his Centurion tank. On arrival, having broadcast their imminent presence, they were berated by their team captain, who was sat amidst a quartet of tanks. With the reinforcement of another Cromwell tank, that gave Agnew two Cromwells, a Firefly, a Churchill and his Centurion to counter the Wellesley teams under Pearce. One other Cromwell was still in the field as a sentry. Even with the handicap of being sentry groups, Agnew was enraged that there had only been one enemy knocked out at the price of four of his tanks.
"Right! Anders, get your vehicle over here now!" he broadcast to the remaining sentry, "This upstart thinks he can outdo me, and I won't stand for it. We're gonna counterattack straight at his position and take him out, and all of his little strike teams after that. All teams, we're going to sweep towards Pearce's last position, that Tiger can't have gotten far," ordered James.
With a collective affirmative, the senior team headed out to confront their junior rivals, a roar of British made engines and the smell of petroleum filling the air.
"My plan is simple. My vehicle shall be the bait. It's hardly a stealthy tank, and I fancy the desert camouflage may not blend too well with the terrain anyway, even if we did get the drop on the other seniors. The length of the field effectively prohibits my being sniped by the Firefly. I want you Liam, on my right, and Katherine on my left, hidden behind the foliage to support me when the time comes. On the left, waiting for the signal, will be Russell and Wavell teams, waiting for the right moment, and to counter any flank attacks. Over the ford to the right will be Roberts and Marlborough teams, once Simon gets his track fixed. We will draw the enemy in and –…" Pearce began to lay his plans out, but was cut off near the end.
"What about my team!?" came an angry voice through the transmitter.
"Well Miss Clark, since you declined to follow me at the start, I hadn't given thought to where I was placing your team. Would you like to follow my orders again?" asked Pearce evenly.
"Be damned to your authority, just tell me where to go, and I might oblige," replied Clark sullenly.
"Since you seem so eager, why don't you attack the enemy from the rear? You might get to take out another Firefly, and it might seriously worry the enemy to be surrounded. You might also get to work out that anger you seem to have."
"Bite me Pearce," said Clark curtly, "I'll follow your orders, don't mess up."
"I don't plan to, Miss Clark."
With the ambush set up, Pearce's Tiger sat on the far edge of the field, facing directly east. Roughly 15 minutes later, a grumble of engines indicated the arrival of some of the senior team. The Centurion grumbled past the wreckage of one of the Fireflies, followed by a Churchill and a Cromwell. James gritted his teeth inside the Centurion when he spotted Pearce, stood up in his cupola on the other side of the field.
"He just sits there looking cocky because he took a few tanks out. It's obviously a trap, because they've been working in pairs from all the reports. Anders, you and the Firefly head right, take the high ground and rain shells down on this upstart. I want one of the other two Cromwells heading left to check the ground over the ford. I want them beaten roundly, so they learn where they stand against us. I want the flanks cleared before we advance in to finish that Tiger."
Grumbling across the terrain on the seniors' right flank, the Cromwell and the Firefly began to ascend towards a plateau which would give them an unparalleled field of fire. Unfortunately for them, as they reached the ridge they were met by the whistle of close shellfire, as several rounds flew overhead. Wavell and Russell team, obscured by dips in the land and rocks, were barring the path of the seniors, and the situation soon devolved into a shooting contest at around the 750m distance. Russell team were filling the air with most of the shot by doing as they had done the previous day, the experience with the Churchill clearly not enough to convince them of the necessity of aiming properly over firing rapidly. The Achilles, on the other hand, was waiting patiently to hit its mark.
"Keep it steady, Hannah, we want a clean hit. No sense in wasting ammunition," advised Chris.
"Understood."
Training carefully on the Firefly, its counterpart, and ensuring to hit its hull armour, Hannah hammered an APDS round straight into the enemy tank, ensuring an immediate surrender. At that distance, virtually no armour plate was stopping the round.
Seeing the surrender of the Firefly, Russell team saw their opportunity for glory.
"Go! This time we have them!" shouted Steven.
Gunning their engine, they closed with the enemy tank as fast as they could, trying to get round its flank. Sadly, the Cromwell they faced was by no means as slow on the traverse as the Churchill, and faced the hapless lads as they attempted their manoeuvre. Anders saw his chance, and the Cromwell placed a round dead onto the flank of their counterpart's tank. Skidding to a halt from their momentum, Russell team began to curse.
"I think I can safely say I told you so," said Chris over the radio.
The Achilles by this point had finished retargeting their weapon on the enemy vehicle, firing a single range finding round to ensure accuracy. James slammed home a round into the breech of the gun, and the turret ring whirred slightly as Hannah made corrections, eventually stopping as she lined the shot up perfectly.
"Fire!" shouted Amy.
The furious roar of the main gun slightly rocked the Achilles despite the counterweighting on the turret rear, and the muzzle flash temporarily blinded the crew. Blinking to readjust their eyes, they saw that while they had hit home, they had only disabled a track on the enemy Cromwell, Hannah having aimed slightly low to avoid firing over the Cromwell's low profile. Reloading and re-aiming, Wavell team picked the Cromwell off with the impunity that only comes with facing a foe who can't fight back. The Achilles then rolled forward slightly, checking for any further foes, before sitting in the scrub overlooking the field.
"We lost Russell to stupidity. And enemy fire, of course," radioed Chris.
"I expected the former," said Pearce dryly.
"We're in position to support you on the left."
"Wait for the signal, but have Hannah target the Centurion. You can fire when you think the time is right."
"Sweet," came the response of Taylor, relaying the order to his gunner.
On the left flank of the senior team, the other Cromwell sent to scout was somewhat more circumspect in its approach to the terrain. Cruising gently across the grassland on the other side of the ford, they spotted the Churchill of Marlborough team, waiting for orders to go into action. Opting not to fire, the tank moved closer, using the terrain to remain relatively camouflaged until it was around 200m away, nearly facing the rear of the Churchill. Choosing to abandon subtlety from then on, the Cromwell fired, and while the shot missed narrowly, it did finally get the attention of the team.
"We're attacked! Roberts team, we require your aid!" requested Simon.
"We'll help you Simon!" replied Anna, a shuddering from the bushes giving away the movement of her Cromwell to try and prevent their comrades being lost. Seconds later, a shot whistled out from the scrub towards the enemy.
This made little to no difference, however, as the next shot from the seniors firmly crushed the right side treads on the Churchill, prohibiting any form of defensive action. Moving to adjust their angle of fire, the Cromwell then sent several shots towards their stricken target, with return fire from both Roberts and Marlborough team streaking past them. Finally, the senior team struck home, getting a clean hit on the rear of the Churchill, the surrender flag heralded by a plume of smoke. The Cromwell then eyed its next target, Roberts team. The Cromwell of the R&D cadets had fired repeatedly on their senior team counterpart, but evidently needed work on their gunnery. Choosing to remain at range, the senior team then exchanged fire furiously with the techies, until a rending shriek told them that he had hit something. A ricochet from the turret ring of the opposing tank had damaged the traverse system, meaning that Roberts team could not rotate the gun very quickly. However, this was unnecessary, as the stationary nature of the opponent meant that the cadets, having finally found their aim, were free to hammer home a return shot, knocking out their erstwhile enemies for good.
"That would have gone better if we could put some better gun sights, or maybe an aim bot into the tank," commented Ellie, the gunner for the team.
"Somehow, I don't think the league authorities would allow such modifications to the tanks," replied Anna.
"Besides, it would be so difficult to do, and highly vulnerable to enemy fire. I mean, you'd need an array of sensor equipment, and somewhere to mount it…" said Alex, the loader, trailing off into tech babble.
"I hate to interrupt," came a voice over the radio, evidently Pearce, "But I would appreciate an update on your current status."
"We're functional, but we have no way to field repair the turret rotation system at the moment, so we're hand cranking it. We lost Marlborough team in that last skirmish unfortunately, we'd didn't see the enemy till the last second. Ooh, maybe we could get some IR equipment in the turret ring…"
"Since you appear to be damaged, remain in position and target the Centurion, we'll call you if needed," cut in Pearce, leaving the R&D cadets to continue discussing potential tank improvements.
"I know! Satellite coverage!"
"Definitely not a contemporary piece of technology, Lauren."
Pearce refocused onto the enemy in front of him. Agnew was evidently hesitating in his decision to attack, possessing only three tanks against the six that Pearce still maintained, albeit one damaged. He asked Jo to retune the radio to a different frequency, hoping to find the one that the seniors used. Finding nothing but static, he returned it to the normal channel.
"Well, I was going to see if I could provoke him verbally. Apparently that won't be happening today, so I think we shall use the old fashioned provocation method. Liam, target the Cromwell to the right of the Centurion. I think knocking that one out might enrage him suitably. Fire when you feel ready."
"Is 24 hours from now okay with you then?" asked Liam cheekily.
"I would rather it be done with some alacrity, Liam."
The 88mm on the Tiger spewed out a round in the direction of Agnew, narrowly skimming past the Cromwell Liam had aimed at.
"Well, guess I missed," he said nonchalantly.
In the Centurion, James was a little more mocking.
"What a terrible shot! I thought German tanks were supposed to be accurate, or maybe it's just the crew is incompetent," he chortled to himself, "I think we can probably just stay here lads, he isn't going to hit us. Or maybe we should give him a sporting chance and go a little closer, eh?" he said mockingly.
His amusement ceased a second later, as Liam refocused his aim. This time, with a terrible thud, the 88mm round hammered straight into the remaining Cromwell of the senior team, eliciting its immediate surrender.
Agnew swore.
"That's it! Attack! We are taking this sonofabitch down now!"
The remaining two senior tanks grumbled forward, closing the distance across the open field towards the Tiger. The sound of engines behind him indicated to Pearce that the other teams were getting ready to move out to support him.
"Aim for the Centurion, but only fire when you feel it necessary. I shall handle this myself. Liam, target the Churchill next."
A few protesting voices, not least amongst them those of Katherine and Jo, questioned the logic of Pearce's decision.
Liam aimed several rounds towards the Churchill, eventually scoring a crippling hit to the front armour once the tank had closed sufficiently with the Tiger. However, the Centurion was now within sufficient distance to knock the Tiger out, and Agnew had his team aim directly at the heavy tank, confident of knocking Pearce finally out of the game. The slow turret traverse on the Tiger meant that even with the small horizontal distance between the Centurion and the previous target, the Centurion would be able to strike Montgomery team down before they could respond.
A barrage of shots rang out from all directions, unleashing a veritable pall of smoke and fire.
Pearce popped the turret cupola and eyed the smouldering dents in the Centurion.
"Your timing was impeccable. I have to say, the level of accuracy was fairly impressive too. Well done, team."
"I aim to please, sir," replied Chris.
A bewildered and maybe a tad shaken Agnew could do nothing but sit there gawping.
Chapter end
Character highlight: Christopher Taylor
An 18 year old cadet at Wellesley academy, Taylor is the commander of Wavell team. A tall boy, with mid length brown hair, and some facial stubble, Chris is often seen being lazy. Laid-back and chilled out, only his superb grades manage to prevent the instructors complaining about his penchant for alcohol and sleeping. He is often seen in a Japanese style, woven straw hat, which he pulls down over his face to help him sleep. Chris enjoys sleeping, drinking, watching anime, and playing video games. He was Pearce's first friend at the academy when he arrived, and is one of the few people he trusts implicitly, part of the reason he was assigned to the M10, the other being that it's his favourite tank. Katherine often hits Chris when he misbehaves.
Character theme: Melodic Instrumental Rock / Metal Arrangements #113 (look it up on youtube)
Favourite tank: M10 Achilles
This Chapter is now officially over! It has taken forever for me to write, and I don't think it's my best work, but it's what I felt worked for the characters. I hope you enjoyed, and drop me a review at some point. I'm off to continue building my 1:35 Tiger tank. Ja ne!
