Static Target Range
12:57 PM
The sudden booming sound of the Super Pershing's 90mm gun interrupted the entire team's luncheon, sending most of the students into a panicked disarray.
Normally such sounds wouldn't be all that surprising at a tank range. But as part of the ITL's long list of rules, a cease-fire was supposed to be in place during break time, with all tanks absolutely facing away from the direction of the buildings. If one of the tanks managed to come under the control of the wrong hands and was fired indiscriminately, the shells could strike the buildings and cause severe damage. While Jeffrey was not the first to be under command when the rule was broken, being the overall commander meant that he was at a huge risk of losing his position and possibly being ejected from the team. All of the members, from the rookies to the legacy members, with their experiences of enjoying fish-n-chips from St. Gloriana now ruined, notified Cutler and the two coaches about the situation.
Being swarmed by lots of teammates speaking at the same time made Cutler instantly pissed. He yelled at the top of his lungs, ordering the entire crowd to shut up then listened to a single member. Once comprehending what the situation really was, he then questioned Jeffrey on the radio about why there was a Super Pershing firing from a range.
"Sir? There's a tank firing from either one of the ranges! What's going on?" Cutler asked with a slightly panicked voice.
Jeffrey quickly came to realize the violation he had just accidentally committed - not abiding by the cease-fire rule. He swore loudly and gestured to Albert to not fire the next shell. "Albert, don't fire! I forgot about-"
"Hey kid, what's going on out there? You know people can get killed here!" He startled at the voice of his coach joining in the radio frequency. Although Browning was not the type to angrily scold high school students, he was very, very serious about the current matter.
Jeffrey's eyes widened and quickly apologized. "I-I'm so sorry, Mr. Browning! The shots are uh, coming from my tank! I'm not firing indiscriminately, I swear! My tank's facing away from the buildings!"
The coach sighed over the radio and responded in a soft tone. "Jeffrey, please don't do that again. You almost had everyone here running for their lives. I thought someone was going to go on a rampage with a tank or something."
His breathing slowed down to a normal rate and he apologized again. "Yes, Mr. Browning! I'm sorry! I'll explain what's really going on later! I'm serious!"
"I'm serious too, Jeff. Give me a moment."
The overall commander gulped and sank in his seat, having no more words to say. His time as commander could have ended right then and there. But fortunately, his reputation had been saved by the bell. Browning simply announced that the problem has been taken care of, making an excuse that select members of the technical crew were testing a tank gun with his permission. He was well aware that a person like Jeffrey would have a valid reason for his actions. The members, some still confused about what really was going on, just shrugged and went back to their food. Once the atmosphere had calmed down he then returned on the line and continued to question Jeffrey.
"If you think I'm gonna let you end up getting kicked from the team, then you thought wrong. You're not like the previous commanders, and we need you. The school needs you, kid. Don't blow it." Jeffrey sighed in relief, coming down to the realization that he wasn't in real trouble. He owed one to Browning now. That was a fact, and he knew Browning knew it. The man had just let his colossal mistake pass because if he were to be ejected as a result of it the team would've descended into chaos. "Now then, explain to me why the hell you're firing your tank's gun."
Jeffrey scratched his head and thought of the right choice of words for his reply. "Uh, I'm training someone in secret, sir. But I need you and Mr. Webley to come over here at the STR as soon as possible, 'cause this is pretty big. I'll have Cutler come too. Please don't bring anyone else with you; I want to keep this a secret for now." answered Jeffrey.
"Training someone in secret? You could have told me about it before."
"But the one guy I'm training right now is the newest in the gunnery group, Albert Orville. This entire thing was spot-on." He reasoned.
"You just picked him up this morning, right? Why is he that big of a deal?" He questioned with notable confusion.
It was better for the coaches to see for themselves. He wanted them to be just as surprised. "I've already said that you and Mr. Webley should come here as soon as possible, sir. Better for you to see why in person."
He sighed. "Very well. Well, my brother's currently out, so I'll wait for him first and then we'll come. Everything's back to normal here, but keep in mind that no one knows that you were the one causing the shots."
"Understood. Thank you so much, Mr. Browning. Over and out."
Jeffrey then resumed communication with Cutler, who had overheard his conversation with the coach. "Cutler? You there?"
"Sir? Is that true?"
There was a long pause before Jeffrey responded. "Yeah. Again, don't tell anyone. Only you and the coaches will come here. Any questions?"
With no questions asked, Cutler complied. "No, sir. I'm on my way now. Over and out."
Jeffrey shut off his headset, then turned to Albert.
"Looks like this was a bad time to fire a tank gun... am I wrong, Commander?" Albert chuckled nervously.
He leaned against the side of the tank turret and rubbed his face. "No, you're right about that. I just broke the cease-fire rule. Luckily, Mr. Browning covered it up for me so I won't get kicked out of the team or anything."
"What is the, uh, cease-fire rule, Commander?" asked Albert.
"Section 3 of the Team Training and Match Rules states that: An automatic cease-fire is to be in effect during preparation times, breaktimes, post-match times, and emergencies. Firing during these times would result in the suspension or ejection of a member/members from the team." Jeffrey was quite knowledgeable about the ever-growing rules and regulations in Tankery, in contrast to most of the previous overall commanders of Eastside. His father not included.
"It would suck really, really bad if you were in fact ejected from the team, Commander." Ejecting a Tankery prodigy like Jeffrey would be too much for a struggling team. And the ejection was just recently averted.
"You don't say."
Regarding ejection from a team, Albert switched up to the subject and asked a question. "If you get ejected does that mean you can't play Tankery ever again?"
Jeffrey shook his head. "No. Being ejected only means you can't join the same team ever again. You can play Tankery but on a different team, if it's professional-level, and on a different school if it's high school and college level." One thing that he forgot to mention was that the salaries of recently-ejected players from professional-level teams were also most likely to drop. In contrast to the high school and college levels, professional Tankery was taken very seriously.
Albert understood his explanation and asked a side-question. "What if it's your last year in college or high school and you get ejected from your team?"
He shrugged. "Then you can't really do anything about it. You'll have to advance to the next division to play Tankery again."
He nodded understandingly. "I get it now. Thank you, Commander."
"Anytime." Jeffrey pulled out his phone and looked at the time. The time displayed was "1:03 PM". While the coaches and Cutler weren't around yet, he decided to take the time learning why Albert was so good in gunnery. "I'd like to ask you a question if you don't mind."
Albert allowed him to ask away, a huge smile on his face. "I don't mind! What is your question, sir?"
"Earlier, I let you join the team because one, I didn't want to be such a dick and reject you. I already said that there were still spots on the team, right?" Albert nodded.
"And two, with your level of eagerness and excitement I thought maybe you really have some potential at your chosen role. But when you hit targets over two kilometers so easily, I have to admit I was blown away. No one, and I mean no one in our level can do more than two kilometers with that level of proficiency. So are you that good?"
The majority of engagements in Tankery normally occurred well under two kilometers ,depending on the place where the match was held, and engagements any further than that distance were rare. There was the possibility of an even better gunner, but Jeffrey had already dug into countless VODs of matches before and concluded that Albert was, in fact, the only one really capable of such immense accuracy.
The arrival of Albert couldn't really be considered as the key or missing piece for the team's success for the current season. As Jeffrey had said before, the team needed to move on from its ineffective and humiliating game-sense in order to secure such a victory.
"Just how in the hell do you hit a Panzer III in turret-down position from over two kilometers away?" He emphasized the feat by spreading his arms widely inside the tight interior of the Super Pershing's turret. Tanks in hull-down position or on the move were difficult but manageable for gunners, but turret-down position, on the other hand, posed a bigger challenge. Unlike the hull-down position, which showed the turret to the enemy but hid the hull, the turret-down position basically hid the entire tank from view. The turret-down position was extremely advantageous due to the fact that the tank was able to scope the surrounding area (via commander's periscope, if the tank had one) while the rest of the turret and hull were protected by some form of cover. In addition to the difficulty of hitting a minuscule portion of the target, gunners had to compensate for other factors such as range.
"Well, I uh, I have been playing a lot of tank sims since I was 13, Commander." While it was true that tank simulator games weren't enough as a driving force for the development of aspiring Tankery players, they were helpful to a certain degree.
He was skeptical of Albert's statement. Being borderline accurate all because of tank simulators was a pretty sketchy thing to say. Gunnery required mathematics, because of the velocity and distance calculations and whatnot. "Tank simulators? Seriously? You do know that you don't automatically qualify as a gunner just by playing tank simulators, right? This requires mathematics."
"I'm fully aware of that. And I've already got the mathematics part covered, Commander." He gave a pleased smirk.
"So you've- Wait a minute." Jeffrey paused then wagged a finger at Albert. Albert leaned forward towards his commander. "You've been making very accurate calculations all this time? All this fucking time? Without writing things down or saying them aloud? You've been doing this all in your head?" Albert nodded his head.
He smiled slyly and proceeded to hit Albert with a random math question to test his intellect. "A shell is traveling at 1,500 kilometers per hour at a target two kilometers away. How long does it take to reach it?"
Albert answered practically instantly. "Assuming values are exact, approximately five seconds.
He slumped in his seat. "Fuck me." Jeffrey's eyes widened. "I'm amazed, Albert. I'm officially amazed." Then he frowned as something came to mind. "Wait, does that mean you were just screwing around with the first shots? You were definitely acting out that 'Wow, I actually hit it!' part earlier."
He chuckled at Jeffrey's remark and insisted that he was actually nervous. "No, Commander! I just said that it was my first time to fire a tank gun. I was actually pretty nervous."
"Oh, okay. Seriously though, you're really good. I'm looking forward to seeing more from you."
Albert replied in a hyped tone. "Well, thank you, Commander! But honestly, sir, I wouldn't be where I am now if it weren't for you! I've been following you ever since I found out about you. Watching you showing off your skills at a young age is what really inspired me to take up Tankery. W-When I heard that you were going to enroll in Eastside, I decided to follow you the next year so I could be able to play with you! And, after I did enroll, when I came to personally ask if I could join the team, I thought I wasn't gonna be able to, but at the last minute... oh my god, you actually accepted me! You accepted me in the team!"
Turns out that Albert was a 'fan' of his. His starstruck nature brought a smile to Jeffrey's face. He couldn't believe that at such an early point in time he had been a huge influence on his soon-to-be tank gunner. Being an inspiration for other people to join Tankery was a complete honor, and despite the incoming sandstorm of challenges, he nevertheless looked forward to inspiring many more people through his actions.
"This is more than a dream come true for you, apparently. I have an offer for you though."
"What is it, sir?"
"From now on, would you like to be a part of my crew as the gunner?" Albert's unspoken dream just came true. He was just offered the option to join Jeffrey's crew, and he was quick to accept. The 10th-grader burst with joy, now having the privilege to serve under Jeffrey's command. Ironically, this was also the fastest recruitment that had ever occurred in the history of Tankery, with Albert joining, picking a role, and being assigned to a tank in the span of a single day.
"YES!" Albert shouted and rose both of his hands in the air. "Thank you thank you thank you thank you-"
The boy continued until he ran out of breath, and inhaled deeply, gasping for breath.
Jeffery stared at him. "Are you done now?"
He nodded. "Yes."
"Alright, good. Now we're in business."
"By uh, by business, do you mean I'll be able to talk with you and the others, C-Commander?" Albert hastily pulled out his phone but stopped half-way, awaiting Jeffrey's answer. "Don't worry! I-I'm not gonna spam you or anything! I'm just looking forward to communicating, that's all, sir!"
Jeffrey nodded and pulled out his own phone. "Of course you can add me. Just keep in mind that when the Busy status is up I'm busy for real."
1:24 PM
"You're serious, Commander?"
"Yes, I'm serious." Jeffery answered with a matching tone.
Cutler pointed at the same mock-up Panzer III target from earlier, eyebrows furrowed. "So the new guy just hit that Panzer III, in turret-down position, that's sitting over two kilometers away, sir?" The Dye brothers, in perfect sync, turned their heads towards it.
"Yep. I got binoculars right here if you don't believe me. You'll see the hole. Crispy clean accuracy."
Cutler grabbed the binoculars out of his hands and inspected the mockup tank. Upon noticing the impact point, he shook his head.
"Unbelievable. And he's the guy you just recently allowed in the team?"
He nodded. "Yep. He may not look like it, but he's a magician. He can do the math quickly." Jeffrey gestured to Albert, who was standing behind him fidgeting. He then turned to the coaches, starting with Browning. "What do you think, Mr. Browning?"
Browning walked towards Albert and proceeded to drape an arm over his shoulders. "Albert's more than just welcome to the team. Too bad I wasn't able to get here earlier and see him really perform."
"You already believe what Jeffrey's saying, huh? I'll only be convinced if Albert did the same thing in an actual match." Webley jested.
His brother shrugged in response. "If that's what you say. Got any ideas, Jeffrey?"
Jeffrey thought to himself for a couple of seconds before coming up with an idea to sway the coaches even more. "If you all want to see what Albert's really capable of, then I suggest that we go to the moving target range and have a special gunnery course set up for him. I'm not saying an actual match isn't any better, but please, give some consideration for him."
The two coaches and Cutler grouped up, conversing with each other about the matter.
"Sir, did you just say 'special gunnery course'?" Albert whispered from behind and began to assume about what kind of targets he would be hitting. "What's in it for me, Commander? Are you gonna use quads? Rail targets? Maybe you're gonna use those brand-new remote-controlled Locusts? That's insane!"
Jeffrey turned to face Albert. "You'll see, Albert. You'll see. I bet you can't wait to get some real action, huh?"
"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't eager, Commander."
He smirked. "We'll be having a practice match on Friday, so you better get prepared for it, alright?"
A Cheshire grin broke out on his face. "Yes, sir!"
Jeffery smiled as Albert's hyped personality was completely similar to how his father acted when he started in the team. "You know, my father was just as excited as you when he started as a gunner for Eastside."
He looked over. "Really? Your father is really good too." Albert complimented, to which Jeffrey thanked him for. "May I ask how he's doing this year, Commander?"
Jeffery flinched. "Sorry Albert, but it's a, uh, personal matter."
Albert paused, and nodded. "I understand, sir."
After some time, the two coaches and Cutler all agreed to a specialized gunnery course.
"I take it that you all are saying 'yes'?"
Webley was the first to reply. "Sure. Let's set up a course for Albert. I will be doing the evaluations. The configs for the targets are up to you, but Browning's suggesting that some of them have to be positioned further than two miles."
His brother proceeded to correct him. "Webley. It's two kilometers, not two miles. You're supposed to use metric for the distance." Metric was the standard distance system of units imposed by the ITL, and out of all the 15 countries that participated in high school and college Tankery the United States was the only country that used imperial. As a result, the American participants had to adapt to this standard, and they were able to despite confusion at first. The reasons for this change were because one, ITL technicians (who were predominantly non-American) would inspect each and every component of a tank before a match, including speedometers and rangefinders (to check if there were any illegal modifications made to them), and two, due to the international nature of the sport, American participants would have to get used to the metric system the other countries used, like the difference in distance road signs.
"Right. I'm sorry, I mean kilometers. Further than two kilometers. You can have the targets drive side-to-side, stop-and-shoot, or maybe have them Tokyo drift all over the place, but they have to be pretty far out. Can Albert handle them?"
He smirked. "He's fine with it, Mr. Webley. He can handle them, no problem."
"If he passes my evals then he can be your gunner for the tournament. If he doesn't, then I'll just have him assigned to a different tank. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
"I can see why you want to keep this thing a secret. It would be a shame to lose an advantage by one student deciding to blog about this on Facebook or Twitter, or any other website. If other schools found out about Albert and decided he's a serious enough threat, they'd start to devise tactics to counter him. Probably make you a target." Browning surmised.
"You read my mind, sir. And if someone like Erika were to find out... I don't know what to expect. She'd probably come up with some sort of fool-proof strategy and our efforts would quickly be sent downriver." Jeffery agreed.
"I'll leave it to you, then. It's your choice if you want to reveal Albert's skills or just withdraw him from an active lineup."
Jeffrey quickly countered, uncomfortable with the fact that he had the choice to let Albert go. "No, no, I've already decided that he's gonna be my new gunner, Mr. Browning. But I don't want to have him stay on the reserves. I think I'll have him go easy with the accuracy for the meantime." Masking Albert's capabilities for a short time was probably the safest decision to make. He didn't really trust the others to stay silent about Albert's capabilities, plus he didn't know the stratagems the other commanders would be going for if they ever found out that his gunner could hit their flag tanks at 2 kilometers plus. He would have to play it safe for the first parts of the tournament.
"Alright. Let's get a move on and head to the MTR, Jeffrey. Do you want me to prepare the targets?"
"No, Mr. Browning. I'll do it." Jeffrey answered politely.
The moving target range was not too far from the static one; in fact, it was close enough that they could just ride to the place on Jeffrey's Super Pershing. As the coaches and Jeffrey all boarded the tank, Cutler gestured to Albert to follow suit. "I hope you'll do your best, Albert. We don't really have a lot of good gunners on the team. This is gonna be the biggest year in high school Tankery, and we need all the manpower to make the ultimate comeback. Welcome to the team, by the way." Cutler patted Albert on the back before climbing aboard the tank and extending his arm for him.
Albert grabbed Cutler's hand, and Cutler pulled him up, helping him climb on the tank much easier. "T-Thank you, sir! I'll do my best!"
Moving Target Range
2:08 PM
Jeffrey didn't want to make the course too demanding for Albert. He may have the skills, but it just wasn't right to go and milk all his accuracy on a specially-made gunnery course. He could at least make it possible so that the course pleased both parties.
From a distance, the Dye brothers supervised the entire flow of operations for the special gunnery course, holding iPads displaying live camera feed from a drone flying overhead. The drone would then be used to get a closer look at the wide variety of moving targets down the range: ten metal sheets running on rails at speeds of up to 15 mph (25 km/h); five pickup trucks modified as mock-up T-34s; five bulldozers modified as mock-up Tiger Is; and five of the school's remote-controlled M22 Locusts moving randomly at a speed of 40 mph (64 km/h).
To top the target selection off, Browning had arranged three of the school's decommissioned M3 Lees in turret-down position behind a dirt incline. They sat at exactly 2,300 meters, well within the effective range of the Super Pershing.
This kind of setup seemed to be too much for the average high school tank gunner, but otherwise Jeffrey was fully confident in Albert. He believed that he could pass their expectations with flying colors, and maybe in the future, he could do the same with the Tankery world.
"All HE and AP shells loaded in the racks, sir!" a technical crew member announced as the Super Pershing's empty ammo racks were refilled with fresh shells.
"Racks 1 and 2 are loaded with what?"
"HE, sir."
"Racks 3 to 10?"
"AP, sir."
"Thank you. You can go back to your station." Jeffrey replied, and the TC member walked away back to one of the multi-purpose buildings.
"Would be nice if we could use stuff like HVAP and HESH." Tankery, being an extreme but ultimately non-lethal sport, was only limited to the use of basic HE, AP, and smoke shells in matches. These were the easiest to modify and when they were modified, they could only stop at a specific point instead of penetrating through a tank's armor completely, courtesy of the specially-developed and lined armor. The rest of the special types of munitions were completely banned from use, regardless of the modifications made to the shells or tank armor they were simply too powerful and just weren't the types of shells to fire at high school and college students.
As he sank into the interior of the tank and closed his hatch, Cutler and Albert followed suit. Jeffrey served as the driver, Albert served as the gunner, and Cutler served as the commander as well as the loader for the gun.
"Who's controlling the Locusts?" Cutler asked as he peered at the moving targets through the small viewing ports on his cupola.
His commander answered. "Mr. Webley's controlling them."
Cutler had a surprised expression. "All five of them, sir?"
"Yeah, all five."
Cutler raised an eyebrow. "He must have fast hands."
"I guess so." He responded.
After a few minutes of intermission, filling in checklists, Browning finally gave the signal for them to begin the course. Jeffrey stepped on the gas pedal and the Super Pershing began to drive down the range. He stopped after a couple of feet and shut off the engine. First up among the wide variety of targets were the ten metal sheets, sitting at distances of 600 up to 1,500 meters each. All of the targets moved side-to-side on their own rails, the electrically-driven motors keeping them mobile.
"Albert, you're up! Metal plates! First one is sitting at 600 meters! Speed is 15 miles per hour!"
"Yes sir!" As soon as Cutler designated the first target, Albert began to steadily move the turret controls, the traverse of the turret matching the pace of the first moving target. After taking enough time keeping his sight on the target, he fired away.
The AP shell flew across the range, hitting the metal target in the center. Both of the coaches were fairly impressed at the first shot, nodding at each other. One target down, and 27 targets to go.
"Good shot, Albert!" Cutler complimented as he moved forward to reload the 90 mm gun, the length of the shell making it cumbersome to load. At least the gun wasn't a T15E2 variant which took even longer to reload because of the two-piece shells.
Albert turned and bowed down. "Thank you, sir!" he joyfully said.
Jeffrey smiled sheepishly as he saw Albert bow towards Cutler. "Albert, if you're going to bow every time you get complimented then you should join the Japanese teams. Focus on the targets." This elicited a chuckle from Cutler.
"Ah, sorry, Commander!"
"AP loaded! Move on to the next one!" Albert quickly looked through the gun sight after Cutler finished reloading. The next target was farther away, sitting at 700 meters and moving at the same speed. Albert made small adjustments with his aiming then fired, and just like the first target, the AP shell punched through it.
Jeffrey looked through the driver's viewport, a small smile forming on his face as he saw the target go down.
"What did I tell you, Cutler? What did I tell you?" he said in a hyped tone while crossing his arms and shaking his head. "This guy's a fucking magician."
Cutler rolled his eyes and replied casually. "Say that when it's an actual match, Commander." He then opened the gun breech and loaded another AP shell. "AP loaded! Next target, distance 800 meters!"
"Got it!" Albert made adjustments with his aiming but for this target, he decided to give the commanders and coaches a show. He proceeded to wait for a couple of seconds then fired the gun, and the AP shell that flew out hit not one, not two, but three of the metal targets, punching through each of them. What's even more surprising was that the targets were precisely 100 meters apart from each other, so there was no doubt that Albert's shot was carefully timed. The remaining target count was now cut down to just twenty-three.
"You have got to be kidding me! How'd he do that!?" Cutler's exclaimed, his eyes wide, and the two coaches jerked backwards, understandably stunned by how the shot was executed.
Jeffrey was also surprised but he simply laughed it off and clapped for Albert. "Nice one, Albert. Three targets with one shell. Fucking spectacular."
"Who is this kid?" Browning sarcastically asked over the radio.
Cutler decided to move on with the trick-shot and proceeded to call out the sixth target sitting at 1,100 meters. Again, Albert casually took it out like the first two targets, and did the same with the seventh, eighth, ninth, and the tenth targets.
The end result left an amused look on the two coaches, and a shell-shocked one for Cutler.
As they steadily progressed with the gunnery course, the farther the targets were, the more obvious Albert's accuracy had become. The reactions of Cutler and the coaches changed from amused to borderline impressed, then to surprised, and finally, total awe. By that point Jeffrey had successfully convinced the coaches enough, and he hoped that he could impress them even more on the upcoming practice match on Friday.
The mock-up T-34s and the mock-up Tiger Is all ended up being taken out with steady precision, no more no less. But when it came to the moving targets, the M22 Locusts, Albert was able to hit all of them, in the one place they least expected: the lower glacis. The Locusts, with their low profiles, moved in randomized patterns, at distances of over 1,000 meters, but Albert's accuracy made its mark and hit them one by one in the lower glacis. Browning could only gasp and move about in his seat, while Webley was at a loss for words.
Once it was all down to the remaining targets - the turret-down Lees positioned at exactly 2,300 meters, Cutler gave Albert a bewildered look, unsure of what to say if he did hit the three targets. The Dye brothers had no response and the radio was simply filled with dead silence.
Jeffrey reclined on his seat and looked over towards Cutler. "Hey Cutler, what's the matter? I know it hurts to see Albert best you at this kind of gunnery course, but did you just find out that he's your long-lost son? There's no way you two are related."
The coaches cracked up and laughed really hard over the radio. Cutler looked back at Jeffrey and gave him the finger.
"Very funny. But you know, sir, I already like him. Disregard what I said earlier."
Jeffrey smirked. "So you're convinced now?" His vice commander nodded in response. "Perfect."
"Let me just..." Cutler grabbed his binoculars and opened the commander's hatch, taking a look at the three Lees at the far end of the range. They were really far out, appearing like pixels on a wide LCD television screen. Albert was patiently waiting for Cutler to call out their relative distance, but there was no marker for 2,300 meters. The three targets were right at the end of the range, and they were nearing the limit of the Super Pershing's effective range. Cutler wanted to see if Albert was able to use his own computing power to determine their distance. He kicked Albert's shoulder to grab his attention. "Hey Albert!"
"What is it, Vice-Commander?" he called out from inside the tank.
"Last targets are those three Lees over there. They're in turret-down position. Can you see them?"
Albert leaned forward and scanned for the tanks through his periscope. "Yes sir, I see them."
"Their range is unknown. Try and determine what their range really is." he ordered with a huge grin.
"Yes sir!" Albert responded lively and looked through the primary gun sight of the T15E1, beginning to calculate the distance. His answer?
"2,300 meters. Just my roughest estimate, sir."
It took his brain only four seconds to process the numbers before he was able to determine the distance of the three Lees. Four seconds.
He was like a math prodigy with that fast of a computation. Most gunners in the high school and college divisions could only calculate distances in eight or nine seconds, but that didn't matter much considering how slow-paced of a game Tankery was. Jeffrey could only feel bad for those that happen to be on the receiving end of his Super Pershing's gun, since the only way they could be able to avoid Albert was to basically strike first or be in a densely-armored tank like the Maus.
Cutler turned to Jeffrey to have Albert's answer verified. "Commander?"
Jeffrey perked and simply crossed his arms while smiling with his eyes closed. He did not give a clear answer. "If he does hit all three of those Lees, then his estimate is correct."
"2,300 meters. Alright." He gulped. "Albert, you know what to do."
"Yes sir!" The 10th-grader began to slowly elevate the tank gun, eyes carefully trained on the gun sight and its distance-finding chevrons. The primary gun sight had 6x magnification, and that wasn't enough to clearly see the Lees' 37mm gun turrets.
"Elevation plus 3 degrees!" Once he stopped cranking the gun controls, Albert did his best to control his excitement and kept his foot off the footpedal that fired the gun. Jeffrey, Cutler, and the two coaches were closely watching. He waited for the order to fire, and as Cutler gave it, he hastily fired away.
The AP shell flew out of the Super Pershing's barrel, and traveled for a couple of seconds before reaching its mark. A large fume of smoke emerged as it impacted. Browning proceeded to take control of the observation drone and approached the first Lee.
Once the smoke dissipated, it was revealed on camera that the AP shell landed right on the 37mm gun turret, partly skimming the dirt incline in front of the tank. A white flag on a metal pole extended out of the top of the turret, indicating that the shot was successful and it would render the tank as "inoperable". Both of the coaches yelled "That's a hit!" at the same time.
"Hell yeah! Excellent job Albert!" Jeffrey said happily and proceeded to high-five Albert. "Now go get the other two!"
"Will do, sir!" He got back to work on the gunnery controls but there was no shell loaded in, as Cutler was idling, acting like his noggin could not process what just happened. "Uh, Vice-Commander? I need a new shell loaded in, if you please..."
"Hey Cutler," Jeffrey called out, crossing his arms. "You got them Desert Storm flashbacks?" He and Albert laughed hard at the joke. Cutler finally responded after a few seconds, quickly loading an AP shell inside the gun breech.
"Sorry." He forced a smile and turned to Albert. "Shell's loaded, Albert. Fire when ready."
Albert nodded and slowly traversed the gun towards the second Lee. Just like the first Lee, it was taken out with an AP shell to the 37mm turret. The coaches stood up, smiling and raising their hands in the air, somewhat 'praising' Albert more. Cutler cracked up a smile as he saw the coaches' reactions.
"Two down, one more to go." Once the spent casing was ejected out of the gun breech, Cutler quickly loaded in the last AP shell. Albert traversed the turret towards the third Lee and fired. All of the three turret-down Lees were taken out.
The gunnery course really paid off, and he had put up one hell of a show. They all ended up seeing more than they expected. Browning and Webley looked at each other, sharing the same thoughts about Albert. Albert had done more than just impress the coaches. He had gained their approval.
Getting accepted in the team, gaining the trust of the commander and vice-commander, and gaining the approval of the coaches in a single day was a feat only a handful of people could make. Albert was a player with overflowing talent, like Jeffrey himself. However, Jeffrey knew very well that Albert couldn't be used as the team's "trump card" with his accuracy. Tankery was a team sport, and virtually no one should be relied on to carry an entire team.
"Mr. Webley? What do you think?" Jeffrey began to question Webley, whose view of Albert had changed considerably.
"He's incredible. So incredible. That's all I have to say. He can be your gunner from now on."
Albert beamed as soon as he overheard Webley's decision to accept him as Jeffrey's gunner. Jeffrey looked back at him and smirked while thanking Webley over the radio.
"I knew you could do it, Albert." Like a parent, he was proud of Albert.
Old Mitchell's Pizza Parlor
Manhattan, New York City, New York, USA
6:52 PM
The first day of training was finally done. Eight hours of training had Jeffrey all pent up. He had spent lots of time, keeping everything in order and in stellar condition for the team. He had done so much, and he simply left whatever he lacked the time to handle for the day to Cutler and the group commanders that remained for maintenance duty in Orange County. All that he wanted to do was just go home and straight to sleep once he got on the bus back to New York City.
But he couldn't. In the day, he had school and Tankery, but in the night, he had a part-time job. After arriving, instead of going to his home in Brooklyn, he went to Manhattan to tend to his job.
Students from the 30 top-tier high schools all over the world were generally from well-off families. That's not to say that Jeffrey wasn't from a well-off family himself, but he was the only member of his family living in the house. Aside from Eastside's tuition, there were also the expenses for food, electricity, water, cable, and other expenses. To pay for all of them, his uncle who served as a major in the Marines sent him money on a monthly basis, a maximum of $6,000.
That was, until now, that the number of money his uncle sends him began to decrease in amount. His uncle had reasoned that he was only able to send less money, due to his schedule becoming even tighter. To compensate for this, Jeffrey had to start working part-time to earn extra money. He had landed a job at a small but popular pizza restaurant named "Old Mitchell's Pizza Parlor" just a couple of blocks away from Times Square.
Every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday, he worked as a cook at the restaurant from 6:30 PM to 12 close. Having a part-time job right after training or school was simply a lot to bear, but Jeffrey did not fret about it. Despite being deprived of enough sleep the following day, he was just as hard-working as ever.
His popularity as a Tankery prodigy and overall commander of Eastside's Tankery team had also carried over to his workplace. Oftentimes customers grabbed opportunities to take photos with him, which his employer found amusing since Jeffrey fairly disliked this type of public attention. He had also formed new friendships with his co-workers, some of which were just the same age as him.
As long as he kept working, he should be fine and able to pay his expenses fair and square. He had no idea when the time will come where his beloved uncle completely stopped sending money to him, and it was going to be problematic when it did come.
While peppering a thin pan of crust with various toppings, Jeffrey felt his phone vibrating within his pocket. He pulled it out and it was revealed that his uncle was calling. He requested for somebody else to take over the pizza he was handling, then as someone did took over, he proceeded to tell his employer that he needed to go and answer a call. He was given permission to do so and he quickly went out the back of the restaurant.
He tapped on the screen to answer the call and brought up the phone to his ear. "Good evening, Uncle George." He greeted.
"Good evening, Jeffrey." His uncle, George Rellington, answered on the other line. He was the older brother of Jeffrey's father, and he acted like Jeffrey's second father, supporting him over the past ten years, from his stellar start as a Tankery prodigy to his enrollment at Eastside. Apart from being a major in the Marines, he was also one of the representatives from the ITL's American Tankery committee.
"I haven't heard from you in like two weeks. How are you?"
"I'm fine, Uncle. How about you?"
George replied. "Same here. How did training go today?"
"It was pretty great." He smirked.
George chuckled. "Great, huh? Tell me about it."
Jeffrey thought to himself for a bit, deciding on whether or not to tell his uncle about Albert and his gunnery skills. He then decided not to, for now. "Uh, I'm at work right now and I don't really have that much time to tell you everything that happened for today, Uncle. All I can say is that a LOT of great stuff happened during training. It was a bit stressful sometimes, but I had fun nonetheless."
"That's nice. Any problems that arose with your team?"
"None so far. It's just basic training drills for today until Thursday, and we're having a practice match with the girls from Saunders on Friday."
"Nice. I'll be watching the broadcast. Go show them what that Super Pershing's really made of." he said enthusiastically and chuckled.
Jeffrey chuckled as well. "I love my new tank. Gotta get used to the small space though."
"Those one-piece shells are really hard to load, huh?"
"At least they're not two-piece, Uncle. It would feel like operating a KV-2." They both laughed. "I'm loving it here."
"Good. Your dream of being in Eastside and being the Tankery team's overall commander has come true. All those years paid off very well, am I right?"
Jeffrey smirked. "They really did."
"If he was still here, your father would be very proud of you."
"I know, Uncle." Tears began to well up in his eyes, and he quickly wiped them off to prevent them from dribbling down his face. "He would."
"Anyway, aside from training, how are your studies? Are you doing well in class?"
"Yep. Last week, we had a really long quiz in History. All of us only had like, three days to review. I ran on coffee while I studied during Wednesday night, and when I did the quiz on Friday I got a perfect score."
"Whoa, that's very good, Jeff. Keep it up."
"Uncle George, are you coming with us to Belgium on the 29th?"
"Sadly, I can't. I have a lot of stuff to do here in D.C. But I'll try to go there on... maybe October 10 or 11."
"Okay."
"You got your passport and athlete visa ready?"
"Mhm."
"Okay. Just stick to whatever Mr. Operan's gonna say. Make the most of your time when you arrive, do your best in the tournament, but above all, take good care of yourself, alright?" He advised.
"Will do. I'm uh, gonna go now cause the restaurant's got a lot of hungry customers. Goodbye, Uncle."
"Goodbye, Jeffrey. Tell Mr. Simeon I said hi."
"I will. Bye."
Jeffrey hung up first, and put his phone in his pocket before going back inside the kitchen.
Marriott Marquis Washington DC
Washington D.C., USA
7:00 PM
Even if it lasted for only a couple of minutes, it was still worth it being able to talk and check in with his nephew. Although Jeffrey was capable of living on his own, he still had the need to keep in touch with him. He had his own family; a wife and two daughters himself, but he had always considered Jeffrey as a huge part of it. He could never forget to make a call and ask Jeffrey about how his day had been at school and work back in New York.
Just a minute after his call with Jeffrey, another call came about. It was Messenger-based, and the caller was one particular German high school tanker - Erika. The timing.
The connection might have been uncanny, but the Rellington and Wittmann families knew each other. Despite them being from two different countries, from two different continents, they all shared the same passion for Tankery. The general question was how did they met before. To answer that question, families with the most skilled Tankery players in the world have a get-together every year (similar to commander-only parties, but on a larger scale). One of those families happened to be the Rellington family, from the United States, and the Wittmann family, from Germany. The German family was visibly the wealthier family and the one with a rich history, in comparison to the American family.
The most notable people among the Americans were Jeffrey's father and George. On the German side, there was Erika's father, Erika's mother, and a couple of their relatives who were also Tankery players and enthusiasts. As both parties have played against each other in the high school and college leagues before, they had also came to regard one another's skills. Eventually they had formed friendships and were able to stay in touch with one another, even to the present day.
Does it also answer why Erika acted like she knew Jeffrey very well? No.
"Oh, it's Erika. Calling from tomorrow right now? I'm surprised she's still awake." George smiled to himself and answered the call.
"G-Good evening, Uncle George." Erika greeted with a long yawn. On the video feed she had a nightgown and was in her bed. While it was 7 PM in Washington D.C. and New York, it was already past midnight where she was in Germany.
He proceeded to greet her back in German. "Guten Abend, Erika. Es ist lange her, seit du mich angerufen hast. Wie ist mein Deutsch?" (Good evening, Erika. It's been a long time since you called me. How's my German?) George was partly fluent in German, having spent some time before in Germany as an exchange student for Munich Boys' Academy.
Erika giggled. "Dein Deutsch ist so gut wie immer, Onkel. Es ist schon so lange her, dass ich dich angerufen habe, aber das... hier geht es um Jeffrey." (Your German is just as good as ever, Uncle. It's been so long since I called you, too, but this call... I'd like to talk about Jeffrey.)
George raised a requited eyebrow, and continued the conversation in English. After the series of interviews she had participated in, he had a feeling he knew what she was going to ask. "Jeffrey? I can't say I'm surprised. Very well. Ask your questions, and I'll answer what I can."
She asked the obvious without a second of hesitation. "What are the tactics that Jeffrey usually employs in Tankery?"
His smile grew into a cheek-to-cheek grin. He knew she was going to ask that question. "You know, it would be unfair to my nephew if I told you about his playstyle. If you really want to see what are the tactics he uses, then wait until he crosses the pond." Oddly enough, there was still no rule prohibiting relatives of Tankery players from divulging the playstyles on various forms of media. She already had the choice to watch the same VOD of Jeffrey commanding his team during one game last season.
"Oh." She now felt like a complete idiot for asking.
"Any other questions?"
"N-No, Uncle." She replied, but paused and then quickly followed up. "Actually, there's one more question that I'd like to ask."
He nodded. "Go ahead."
"W-What's... What's Jeffrey like?" Erika stammered.
He took a moment to think on how to respond to her question. "Hmm. Well, it'd take a while to describe everything about him. But put simply? Jeffrey's very hardworking and determined. When he's got his mind on something, he never loses focus, and its pretty hard to sway him from it. He very committed to things, depending on what they are."
She silently absorbed the information. "What else?"
George paused and gazed at her. "Why are you interested in him all of a sudden?" He asked, startling her slightly with the question.
"Ah, well, you see..." She paused in her struggle to find an answer. "I feel like we've already met before." She finally continued. "But I can't exactly remember if it is him I'm remembering, or a different person. Personality-wise, he seems so familiar to me, Uncle. I mean, you're his blood related uncle, you're the closest thing I have to an actual uncle, and you know my parents. It just feels like there's something missing here, and I feel the need to uncover what it is."
"I see." He remained silent for a couple of seconds, which made Erika worry that she had crossed some sort of line. But he continued. "He's a fairly skilled commander as you might have noticed. I suggest you go watch a VOD of the match between Eastside Boys' High and Trinity Boys' Academy to find out. In one part, he commanded a Jumbo and took on three ARL 44s using a variety of guerrilla tactics. If it weren't for Jeffrey's arrogant overall commander, Eastside would have won the match and moved on to the grand finals." He could see Erika getting a far off look in her eyes as she digested this information. "I know about the challenge that you've issued to him, and I can tell you that he is likely to take it seriously. Especially now that he's the current overall commander of Eastside."
She nodded. "I understand. Thank you for telling me, Uncle."
"You're welcome. Now, go on and sleep. Your parents are going to get mad at you for staying up late."
"Good night, Uncle George."
"Gute Nacht." (Goodnight.) This time, George was the first to hang up.