The flare shot into the air with a shriek, before making a loud, thumping pop. With that, the echos of the various high-torque engines on both teams were heard as they all started within seconds of one another, followed by the clanking and squeaking of tracks as the steel behemoths all began to set off at once. There was a certain energy in the air between all members of the Saint Gloriana team. An energy of fear and doubt in spite of everyone's attempts to calm each other down, and Commander Darjeeling's speech preceding the battle. However, that seemed to vanish to a large degree as the event began. Everyone fell in line, they knew their roles, they knew what they had to do and they were going to do it until told otherwise by their commander.
Relief was one way of describing it, though it would have been more apt to say that the fear of the various Saint Gloriana members had been put off. Shoved aside almost fully, albeit temporarily. But that was enough, at least for now. Not that any of the commanders present had any choice but to accept that fact.
"Rosehip here, scouting west!" Came a chipper voice over the radio as the Crusader III to the rear left of the formation broke off to go its own way.
"Vanilla here, headed to the eastern hill. Will notify when we're in position," followed a more calm and professional voice as the opposing Crusader III on the rear right of the formation broke off in a mirrored fashion to the first, leaving the main heavy group of the Churchill VII flag tank with two Matilda IIs either side of it.
The slow, crawling advance of the heavy tanks - which were, in all truth, still painfully slow infantry tanks - allowed the students within them to get comfortable for the long-haul. On the field, Saint Gloriana's starting point was more or less center-south. On the opposing side of the field on the northern tip was a long beach as well as a small, quite old town of sorts. That was the eventual goal for Saint Gloriana - to get there before Pravda was able to, and set up a strong defense against them.
It was no secret that the mobility of the Saint Gloriana mainstay fleet - that being the Matildas and Churchill - were quite horribly lacking. This made the idea of a defensive position with plenty of hard cover and narrow sight-lines much more preferable than a fight in the open fields like they were in now. If they were to engage out here, they would be outflanked and taken down in less than a few minutes given how slow their reaction times were given the vehicles they were piloting.
Thankfully, there was small chance of encountering the enemy so early, as while there was no trees or hedges in sight beyond a variable wall of the stuff around the town, hills were abundant. More specifically one somewhat large one, which the cluster of five British giants were soon scaling the side of.
"Matilda crews, keep your eyes open. We don't have much cover until we get to the village and even there we're not exactly covering our modesty," Darjeeling said over the radio.
"Understood, commander," was the reply she received from the allies on her flanks.
"Rosehip, Vanilla, what's your status?" She soon inquired as the five heavies finally crested that hill - soon leveling out and approaching the aforementioned village. It was a small abandoned location with a handful of rotting wooden buildings. Some cover was better than no cover, but it wouldn't put Darjeeling any more at ease. Not until they were at the town proper.
"Rosehip reporting! We've not seen anything yet, we're almost around the with access to that side road. Will keep in touch," Was the first answer.
"Vanilla here, we've arrived to the cliff road, we're about midway up. Should have eyes on your surroundings in a minute," came the next shortly after.
Darjeeling nodded to herself slowly, "Very good, be safe," she said before letting off a huff and leaning back in her seat. Her heart was pounding, though it was somewhat ignorable for the moment.
"Some more tea, Commander?" Inquired Orange-Pekoe kindly, offering another cup and saucer of a fresh brew.
The blonde offered a small smile before sitting upright and taking the cupper and beginning to sip on it, "Thank you."
The ginger-haired girl nodded and returned the smile in kind.
The five heavies positioned themselves in the village as quick as they could - having a wide field of view over the open field that sprawled atop the hill they now resided on. One Matilda pair was faced north-north-west poking out one side of the village, while the Churchill VII was nestled further inward in an attempt to hide. Another Matilda was aimed due north, while the last one was aimed north-north-east.
The town was the goal, and they were only about a third of the way there - and even getting this far had taken maybe ten or fifteen minutes - they were stopped at the village. Here, the British bulk waited with quiet impatience for both Crusader teams to do some more in-depth recon. Mainly, they were waiting for Vanilla to reach her point, as once she was there they would have a bird's-eye view of the battlefield. A move made out of necessity and the want to have as safe a match as possible.
Without Vanilla spying from atop that cliff, it would be quite easy for Saint Gloriana to shuffle unknowingly into an ambush and be out-maneuvered and swiftly destroyed. An outcome which would be quite undesirable. However, after a few more moments of an absolutely deafening silence, Darjeeling's ears were graced with the voice saying the very words she wanted to hear - "Vanilla has arrived to grid G-5, establishing visual."
However, her relief was quite temporary, as the Crusader that was sent west was quick to report in as well, "Rosehip again! We've gone up the west side of the hill high right of grid C-5 and we're on the six's of two T-34 76s! They've not seen us but I think they have visual on you guys!"
The defending western Matilda's turned their gaze towards the taller hill which was near the village. A smaller hill on another hill, really. Then more bad news, "Vanilla has spotted the main force of Pravda's team! They're flanking around the hill and are climbing from the entire eastern quadrant!"
Once again, the commander took a steadying breath, raising her cup of tea to her mouth as she allowed her eyes to drift shut for a mere second in the process. Both being done in an effort to calm herself and put some thought in what their next move would be.
"It's encirclement then," Assam stated flatly, turning the turret of the Churchill to their more exposed eastern side in preparation for enemy fire. It was at this point that she was able to make visual contact with the reds. One T-34-85 to the north-east, another directly east, and coming up somewhat behind them to the south- and south-south-east respectively were the IS-2 and KV-2.
Fire was going to begin to be exchanged any second now, and as Darjeeling removed the cup of tea from her mouth she opened her eyes, glancing at her reflection in the dark liquid once more. "Rosehip, engage. Try to distract them more than going for the kill, that will prevent them from having power on the encirclement from the west."
"Affirmative, engaging!" Came a quick reply before semi-distant cannonfire was heard. The first shots of the battle.
Darjeeling hardly stopped to take a breath as she continued, "Vanilla, do not engage. If they start firing on you and we lose you then we've lost one of our best assets in this battle. Do your best to remain inconspicuous while keeping as many tabs on enemy positions as possible."
"Understood," was the brief response that followed.
"Everyone else, face the enemy to the east and begin pulling back slowly. If we can hold them off we'll be able to make it on the road to the town to continue the plan as intended - it seems none of their force has opted to occupy," She finished, assuming the flag tank was near one of the two tank groups participating in this strategy, though she didn't exactly have time to check.
The drivers of the hardened British steel cases obeyed their commander - the Matilda IIs and Churchill VII soon all facing the eastern front while reversing. The incredibly slow speeds of the infantry tank's reverse gears allowing this while maintaining a smooth target picture. The eastern Pravda force began firing, and Gloriana returned following.
Darjeeling kept her head on a swivel looking through the various ports in her commander's cupola. What she saw was nothing less than impending doom as what was left of that wood-built village was either crushed under the tracks of the advancing or retreating tanks, or blown to bits by half-aimed or totally blind shots being hurled to and fro. One particular glancing blow that could have probably ended up knocking out a tank being a wild shot by the KV-2, which rather than hitting a tank struck the ground leaving a crater and causing a shockwave that blew over most of the surrounding wooden buildings.
Needless to say, this was affecting Darjeeling's cool somewhat. They couldn't reverse any quicker, and Pravda certainly was advancing closer much quicker. The blonde swiveled her head around, looking desperately for anywhere that her team could potentially dig in hull-down to try and fight off at least some of Pravda's forces and make their own opening. Much to her dismay, however, the hilltop was flat as could be - save for the craters now being made by the exchange in fire that was going on.
Gripping her teacup tightly, she was about ready to make her call, before she looked 'forward' to the opposing Pravda tanks once again. She started to open her mouth, before her eyes widened as she saw one T-34 85 seemingly rushing to the left of the Churchill. "Assam! Target left, coming fast!"
No sooner did she say those words then did Assam instantly jab her hand to the turret controls to rotate the gun. Her sights soon fell on the charging T-34, and her eyes seemed to become glossed-over as she aimed true before pulling the trigger and sending a 75 millimeter shell flying directly at the tank's turret ring. The shell became lodged, and soon enough the gun on the Russian classic went seemingly limp as the vehicle's onboard damage recognition system declared that a kill shot. The engine bay behind the thing puffed smoke, and the white flag sprung from the top of the turret, but... The thing was still barreling at full speed towards the side of the Churchill VII.
From shock, to the shot being fired, to the landing shot being a knockout, to the realization that they still weren't saved, in reality took place over the course of two seconds or less. However, for everyone in the heavy infantry tank, most specifically Assam and Darjeeling, it felt like an eternity. An hour as one emotion faded into the next, going through the spectrum before being left with a proper fear not unlike what they'd started with.
Soon enough however, the strike hit home - shaking the occupants of the Mark VII off-balance as the T-34 rammed solidly into the left side of the Churchill and caused the tank's rear to skid to the right by a number of feet. The thing almost ramped up and off the side of the infantry tank, as a matter of fact. Having left a sizable dent in the Churchill's side, but not disabling it, that made Darjeeling's decision for her.
Taking a couple quick breaths and looking around the crew compartment briefly to ensure everyone was alright - which they were, albeit rather literally shaken - Darjeeling once again piped up on the radio. "Ma-Matildas two and three, halt your retreat! Matildas one and four, begin turning around, we're going to turn around and continue retreating. After the Churchill is turned and moving, Matildas two and three will join us and cover our rear. We're going to make a break for the road to the town, then continue on in and execute the plan. Keep your turrets rotated at the enemy and keep firing, don't give them a chance to think about following us!" She said quickly, calmness having left her, being replaced now with urgency. Though a prudent woman could still be an elegant one, right?
Acknowledgements followed her issuing of that command, and tank hulls began rotating against turrets as suppressive fire was maintained from both sides. The transition, while quite nerveracking, went off with no casualties - and soon the quintuplet of British beasts were rolling at their full speed away from the pursuing Russian bears. Though Pravda's force didn't seem to be gaining much ground, something that Darjeeling found quite odd given that it was most certainly in their power to do so.
Nearly to the road which would bring them off the plains hill and hopefully into the safety of the town and under the cover of more than a few trees and bushes, Darjeeling's pulse was finally calming down a little - as were those of most of her teammates. Even if Pravda holding off and seemingly not trying to catch them was suspect, they would have a much better chance of survival in the town regardless. However, a crackling signal soon came in on the comms, "R-Rosehip here... We took down one of the T-34 76s up top, but the other one got us, sorry..."
Darjeeling's brow furrowed, and she winced slightly. They were one loss against two, but Pravda being Pravda meant that the loss of one T-34 would just mean that the KV-2 or IS-2 would make up for it. "You bought us enough time to almost fully secure our escape, they may have been able to complete the encirclement if it wasn't for you. Rest easy on the trip back home," She assured the normally energetic girl.
"Affirmative, commander!" Was her final reply.
Darjeeling wasn't lying, without Rosehip's distraction the encirclement could have very well ended up being much more asphyxiating to options which would have prevented this way out. Still, every loss in this match was going to tear at Darjeeling. Things had been going relatively normal, but that ramming... That made the blonde shiver on the spot to think about. A rarely employed tactic with questionable effectiveness, there's no way that was just coincidence, was it?
She snapped out of her thoughts quickly however as through the commander's cupola she spotted the white glow of a shell coming from the their right side. That was the direction of the taller hill where Rosehip had been knocked out, and upon looking in that direction, Darjeeling saw another Pravda perched on top taking pot shots in addition to their pursuers. Briefly, Darjeeling's breaths quickened, and soon enough her fears were realized once more as the plunging fire from that T-34 on the ridge allowed it to get a rather clear shot at the engine bay of one of the Matilda II tanks covering the rear of the Churchill. A puff of smoke and some fire, a pop of a white flag, it was out. Another tank down. Now the scores were even.
Slowly, Darjeeling slid down on her butt into her seat once again, moving her hand to wipe the sweat from her forehead as she once again briefly pondered with her tea. Though her thoughts were soon interrupted as she felt the tank turning onto the road. They made it, and were finally en route to what should have been sanctuary, even though Pravda was still firing at them from behind. The pale, somewhat tan grass was quickly becoming green - and foliage of all types quickly surrounded the tank as they continued to near the town.
Standing and looking to the rear of the Churchill once more, Darjeeling squinted. "They're... Not following us?" She mumbled to herself, stating what she saw. The Pravda tanks were still on the hill, all lined up firing occasionally at the escaping British tanks, but not giving chase down the road. The blonde blinked before turning and taking her seat once again, once again in thought for a moment before she spoke, "Vanilla, what are you seeing from your position? Are any of the Pravda tanks we just engaged breaking off or moving around?"
"Negative commander, they're staying put on the edge of the hill shooting into the woods - at you, I presume," the Crusader III commander replied promptly, and with an enviable level of cool-headedness given she was so far from the action.
The blonde blinked once more, glancing around idly at nothing while her brow remained furrowed. She was rather confused, it seemed, "How many tanks are up there?" Was her next question. In all the excitement, it slipped her mind to count them or even look for the flag tank.
"I count six including those knocked out, that's all but one," Vanilla replied.
"All but the flag tank," Darjeeling added with a hint of venom in her voice. Soon, however, her annoyed frown curled into a smirk. "Ohh, they would've left it in the town..." She mumbled, before grinning broadly. "Wonderful, if this is right then we may have a chance to end this on our terms relatively quickly!"
Orange-pekoe rose an eyebrow and tilted her head at that, "Darjeeling? You okay?" She asked simply. Such a polarized shift in mood was hardly normal, especially in Darjeeling.
"Vanilla, I need you to move from grid G-5 up to G-2 or so, get an overlook of the town and see if you can get a visual on their flag tank, but try to keep an eye on the rest of the Pravda team so you can warn us about when they advance," She continued, brushing off Pekoe's questioning for now.
"Affirmative, moving to position," the remaining Crusader commander replied promptly before she began to mobilize - driving further along that large, long cliff edge.
Clipping the radio mic back onto the receiver, Darjeeling's expression of renewed optimism was soon being presented to Orange-pekoe directly. "Don't you know what this means? That's one dinky T-34 against three Matilda IIs and our Churchill VII. One on four, and in such close quarters it'd be a pretty quick and easy decider for sure!" Her elation was quite evident, though it was questionable if even she knew it was just for the chance to make the match finally end rather than the chance to win as such.
Pekoe nodded, still having a neutral expression on her face, "Yes, but don't you think they would've planned for that? And besides, this is a town, it's all cramped narrow streets and stuff save for that plaza, and a T-34 moves and turns way quicker than any of our tanks can. And that's even if it's there in the first place." She said, trying her best to ground Darjeeling. Something she hadn't needed to do in what felt like years... At least in a battle. As far as grounding on a regular basis in other pursuits went, that was a whole different story.
Darjeeling let out a huff of air through her nostrils, maintaining a now more sedate expression of assuredness. "We would only need to hit it once in the right spot at that distance - any of us - and I've known Katyusha ever since she became the commander at Pravda. She never makes backup plans." With that, Darjeeling had a generous few sips of her now lukewarm tea before getting on the radio once more. "Slight change of plan - we have reason to believe that Pravda's flag tank is present in the town. Assuming it is, and we see it, all tanks are to fire and pursue. We need to try to end this quickly before the rest of their team arrives to assault the town, which they will sooner or later, and if that happens, we're rolling the dice on how long we'll be able to hold out."
New orders issued, Darjeeling sat back in her seat, sipping at her tea with more vigor before finally, after much delay, they had arrived to that town. Rolling in on the route they were driving on, Saint Gloriana was greeted with the sight of mostly ruined but still mostly standing hard brick and stone buildings - arranged in tight rings following the roads around the center of the town which was the most open location which also housed an old church. Driving straight in to the center, each tank in order diverged to one side or another in the arena-like area. The first tank went left, the next right, the next left, and the final right. The pairs drove around the perimeter of the circle, eyes peeled, having both almost covered the diameter combined is when they saw it. The dark green T-34-85 with that dark green flag sticking up on it.
There was a pause as everyone present - including the occupants of the T-34 - realized what was happening, what they were seeing, and what it all meant. For those in the Russian tank, the thoughts of 'oh no' as well as 'someone hit the gas' and 'where's the rest of the team?' were the most prevalent. For those in the British tanks, it was safe to say that most everyone had the same idea: 'Shoot it now.'
After this particular session of an illusory eternity had passed, the opposite effect seemed to occur - everything was a rush. To say that the Saint Gloriana tanks present got tunnel vision on this T-34 would have been an understatement. The display of four heavy, slow tanks firing and missing at extreme close ranges at what was by comparison a high-performance car speeding around around dodging fire was a sight that the folks at home would have most likely quite enjoyed.
It may have been prudent to note, as well, that while only final matches were nationally televised, exhibition matches and general tournament matches preceding the finals were typically filmed and broadcasted to the communities of the respective participating teams live before being aired across the country after the fact on those venues concerned with the sport.
Tactics and plans fell apart during the frenzy to chase down that T-34, weeks of anxiety, paranoia and general worry having surfaced on nearly everyone. Calm and collected, considerate and elegant, it was all gone. The overwhelming desire to get this whole match over with - and to win, preferably - overriding all other thoughts. At least on those who mattered.
It felt like mere minutes had gone by when Darjeeling heard that voice over the radio during the frantic scrambling to secure that one lucky hit on the T-34, knocking it out and ending this torment finally. "Commander! Darjeeling!"
It was Vanilla, and the blonde snapped somewhat back to reality, grabbing the mic and speaking promtply, "Va-Vanilla, what is it? Are you okay?" She asked quickly, somewhat taken aback.
"Pravda is closing in on your position! Repeat, tanks are coming in from-" The distant firing of a 122 millimeter cannon followed by a heavy, echoing metal crunch answered the question of what happened to Vanilla before Darjeeling could even ask it to herself. She stood there frozen for now, feeling her heart descend in her body as it throbbed once more. Optimism had gone in its entirety, and push was about to come to shove.
"Need to get out," She thought, quietly speaking the words without meaning to before she spoke up over the radio once more. "Everyone! Vanilla is down and we have the Pravda force moving in on our position! We need to get out of here!"
It was almost like the voice of someone issuing orders over a radio was something that just about all the Saint Gloriana students was in tune with. Similarly to the clearing effect it had on Darjeeling moments ago, her remaining units snapped out of their own focused, fruitless chases of that T-34, and began to scatter. Unfortunately, while they shared Darjeeling's moment of clarity, it seems that her following wave of anxiety and panic wasn't special either. To compound that, the handful of exits out of the arena-like center of that town were now acting as ports to pour in Pravda tanks. Every single route out one by one was blocked and occupied by a Russian-built behemoth.
Darjeeling's head stuck up in the cupola, and she scanned around, audibly gasping as she, and her remaining team mates, were getting encircled - expertly cut off from escape by walls of stone and Russian steel. What was meant to be their fortress of protection had quickly transformed into an execution chamber. It was the turn of Pravda to issue focus fire now. One Matilda down, then two, and soon three. Darjeeling was hyperventilating by this point, watching her comrades sprout white flags and give off wimpy puffs of smoke. Helpless to do anything but get knocked out.
"Th-The church!" Darjeeling shouted, shaking, and turning to see the building through one of the cupola's ports. Just like Miho and company used in their match against Pravda! Even if many more of the circumstances were different, but one of those circumstances happened to be that the church, like every other building in this town, was caved in - the roof fell in and it had filled with debris years and years ago. The blonde plopped on her chair, looking around erratically. She was losing herself.
Her crew seemed to be doing the same, though Assam and Orange-Pekoe in particular were the closest to functional. The tank was not moving, but the gun was. Moving, firing, reloading, repeat. Darjeeling could only sit and watch. This was all feeling far too familiar. She was in this very spot, in this same situation, she couldn't deny it anymore. Years ago, Assam hadn't yet been attending, Orange and Darjeeling herself were fresh off the block - Orange still in her current role while Darjeeling was the gunner. Earl Grey was the commander, but she didn't crack like this. Not that it mattered.
A deafening ding hit everyone in the crew cabin, sending ears ringing as Darjeeling twitched. The commander's eyes went glassy, that was a knockout blow, but alas - the tank was still operating. No white flag popped. No puff of smoke ejected from the engine cooling fans. Then another ding. And another. And another. The Churchill was getting hammered left right and center, paint scraping, metal heating from being stricken repeatedly by projectiles, all the while Assam kept firing fruitlessly, and Orange kept loading even though she must've caught on like Darjeeling had.
It was hopeless. The girl's blue eyes began to drip tears down the sides of her face as the deafening firing of the KV-2's gun at ten meters made a huge dent in the side of the Churchill's turret. Several smaller dents had since formed in many other places around the hull, but they were all getting bigger. Still no white flag. Eventually, the KV-2 reloaded again, and fired once more. Darjeeling couldn't hear anything, and after that, she couldn't see either. Her world became white, then black. Shrapnel had been flung into the crew compartment, like a grenade going off it sent fragments big and small of metal everywhere - nobody was spared. Darjeeling could feel the stabbing, the coldness setting in as heat left her body around her fresh wounds. Is this how Earl Grey felt? She wondered to nobody but herself. She had quickly blacked out, trapped in her own mind.
While standards for sensha-dou safety had been checked, revised, improved and tested constantly and continually ever since its initial inception, there were still holes in the safety regulations. Holes, mistakes, unforeseen circumstances, all which lead to events like this. A tank outfitted for sensha-dou was layered with carbon for extra rigidity and to make sure that fragmentation shrapnel was a non-issue. Not to mention the armor that these tanks were built with in the first place. No tanks fire armor penetrating shells during matches, either. They're all soft-tipped, designed to bounce or crumple upon impact with armor. Advanced computers on the tanks would do calculations for the hit, determine where the shell landed and what caliber it was, and how much force it hit with, to determine if a tank is to be knocked out or not - meaning when the white flag deploys and the engine puffs up in smoke to clearly indicate a knockout.
When this system fails to work properly, as can happen through abnormal sustained damage or something as simple as the computer being wired wrong or slipping free, there's no indication that a tank is knocked out. As such, when you have five or six tanks firing round after round at the same parts of a tank nearly point-blank, even with these soft-tipped shells, things will strain, bend, and eventually break.