Usual Legal Crapola:
Alright… alright! I realize that nobody likes disclaimers. As literary devices go they're akin to a speed bump in your driveway, and in terms of enjoyment they rank somewhere between watching linoleum peel and being examined by a proctologist with bad depth perception.
However, the "House of Mouse" has a great many lawyers, and with their recent purchase of Marvel Comics they also have the X-Men, who I have been assured will personally come and kick my ass if I don't print this. So if we'll all just settle down and listen up, we can get through this quickly and move on to the reason that we're really here.
Kim Possible and all related matters are the sole property the Disney Corporation and their small army of attorneys. All rights are reserved by and for them. I personally get nothing out of this project, except for maybe a sense of personal satisfaction and the chance to look busy at my computer. (What the boss doesn't know, yadda yadda yadda…)
Any attempts to profit from the ideas and images contained herein will be met with malicious action of a litigious nature, and any other big, scary-sounding legal words I can think of. No purchase necessary, see store for details, void where prohibited, all rights reserved, so there!
On with the show…
~ Chapter Ten ~
"Annnnnnnnd… Tee-zero! Let the games begin."
Kim grimaced silently in the pre-dawn darkness as she watched the final few seconds tick off of her wrist Kimmunicator. A few hours before she had set the integrated chronometer to provide a final countdown of sorts, keeping precise track of the time until the first airborne units would be hitting the ground.
It had been a grueling, backbreaking trek to get to this point. Two days had passed since their encounter with the sniper and although contact with the enemy had been minimal, the journey had been by no means easy. The group had been forced to duck and cover several times and the topography had been less than conducive to travel. A multitude of streambeds cut across their northerly path, faithfully carrying runoff from the mountains to the sea. Thickets of trees and tangles of brush further impeded their progress, and while occasional open areas promised fast progress, they also promised exposure to ever-vigilant enemy eyes. It seemed as though even when they caught a break, they were still getting the short end of the stick.
And to spite this Herculean effort, the only result had been to place them where they were now: With men falling from the sky and the area around them poised to become a branch office of Hell, they were still six miles from the relative safety of the drop zones.
At least she thought they were six miles away. Truth be told, without Wade's "eye-in-the-sky" satellites to keep track of their position, they could be in New Jersey for all she knew. Her only sources of navigation over the past two-and-a-half days had been a compass, instinct, and a nearly religious-like faith in her own ability to get them home.
Well, honestly, even that wasn't entirely true.
There was another big reason for their progress so far, and he was currently sound asleep with his head in her lap.
Ron had been nothing less than a godsend during this difficult time. Since the sniper incident he had sucked it up and stepped up, cooking for the group, providing tactical opinions when called for, and generally helping to keep everyone's spirits up with his oddball antics and child-like wonder. All of the challenges and setbacks he had handled like a battle-worn veteran, and not once had he shown any sign of the inner turmoil that Kim knew for a fact he was carrying. His sole focus had been the mission, and he had attacked it with all the gusto that he would normally direct toward a grande-sized chimerito combo platter. He had been a bastion of strength and stability: He had held the team together.
And now he slept: Like a golden-haired guardian angel, sent from heaven to protect and defend her. As was their usual custom, he had taken the first watch earlier that night and after three hours they had switched. Now, with the clock reading 5:00 exactly, they had another hour before they would once again raise their motley group and begin the arduous journey anew.
With one eye scanning their surroundings and the other focused on her slumbering companion, Kim couldn't help but smile. Even asleep, his cherubic features brought her an incredible sense of peace. Even his occasional snort brought a giggle to her lips. He didn't really snore, she had learned, so much as he made a slight breathing noise that whistled lightly through his partially open mouth. She reached down to gently wipe a small dab of drool away from the corner of his mouth, prompting him to stir slightly and mumble something unintelligible before returning to his previous state.
"Dead to the world." She silently chuckled to herself, reflecting on Ron's almost superhuman ability to sleep anywhere and at any time. Years of grabbing catnaps in such uncomfortable places as drafty cargo planes and damp rainforests had given him sleep patterns that sometimes bordered on narcolepsy. Given the right circumstances, she doubted the ability of a dump truck driving through a nitroglycerin plant to wake him up.
"Sleep well, young soldier." She silently and wistfully concluded. "For soon it will be another day."
"Well that's certainly a blast from the past." Ron observed, craning his neck toward the sky.
"Yeah. No doubt." Kim agreed.
For most of the morning so far the group had been walking and watching as a virtual air show played out overhead. Alpha Jets and Gazelle helicopters had been running aerial relays in support of the battle to the north, but the sight of destructo-bots soaring through the sky represented a new twist.
"Guess Dementor sold off some of his stock." Ron pondered. "Man, this economy is rough on everybody."
"Well we can kick his biscuit for selling out later." Kim pointed out, her eyes returning to the trail ahead. "But for right now let's keep moving."
Pushing over a low ridge and dropping into the shallow gulch beyond, they made their way through a lightly wooded area of manzinita and creosote trees. Although the activity overhead often resembled Middleton Airport on the day before Thanksgiving, the vegetation provided just enough cover to maintain concealment, while not being so thick as to impede progress. They found little difficulty as they advanced up the slope of the next ridge and crested the top…
And immediately hit the dirt.
The valley below them was not like the deserted meadows that they had passed through previously. Far from it, the entire area was littered men and materials. Stacks of packing crates lay beneath camouflaged tarps while various vehicles and equipment sat interspersed amongst them. And throughout it all, uniformed men milled about, some moving with intent of purpose while others seemed to simply be biding their time, hoping no one happened along to give them an order. Still others stood by as sentries, the menacing forms of assault rifles slung dangerously from their shoulders.
"Oh-kaaaaaaay. This is a setback." Ron plaintively observed.
"State the obvious much?" Kim snarked, turning her attention to the brow of the hill. "Now let's go scout this sucker."
Motioning for the rest of the group to stay back, the intrepid duo crawled commando-fashion up to the brow of the hill and peered over. Sure enough, the valley beyond was a veritable beehive of activity, several acres in scope.
"So whadaya think?" Ron finally asked after several minutes of silent observation.
"Looks like a marshalling area of some sort." Kim theorized as she peered through her high-tech binoculars once more. "With the battle to the north this is probably a forward staging point in their supply chain."
"You think we can get around this mess?"
"Actually, that might not be necessary." Kim grinned, bringing the high-end optics down from her face. "You see that over there?"
"What over where?"
"That. That big green and beige thing over there." She pointed in the direction she was referencing.
"Oh, that!" Ron realized. "Unless I'm missing my guess, that's an Mi-24 Hind."
"So you're familiar with it then?"
"Well I know it's a heavy attack chopper." Ron shrugged. "The Ruskies used 'em a lot for ground support and light troop transport in Afghanistan. So what of it?"
"Can you fly it?" she smirked, thinking it somewhat silly to actually be asking such an obvious question.
"In all honesty KP, I usually try to keep my distance from whirly-birds." Ron nervously admitted. "In my book, anything with wings that move faster than the fuselage can't be safe."
"Okay, point made." Kim admitted with a gleam in her eye. "But you didn't answer my question, flyboy. Can you fly that thing?"
"Affirmative." Ron relented. He so didn't like where this conversation was headed.
"Okay, so that means we just have to sneak in there, boost that bird, and we're home free." Kim postulated, the gears of her mind already churning away at full tilt.
"Whoa whoa whoa there, Kimbo!" Ron protested, waving his hands in an excited "cease-and-desist" gesture. "That's a lot of ground we're gonna need to cover, and there's a whole mess of guys down there. Guys who're armed to the teeth, I might add."
"Guns don't kill, Ron. People kill." Kim pointed out, as much for her own benefit as for her boyfriend's.
"Yeah, people with guns!" Ron shot back.
"And that's why I've got you watching my back, monkey boy."
Ron appeared less than convinced.
"You're worried that it's gonna be difficult?" Kim asked concernedly.
"I'm worried that it's gonna be impossible."
"Impossible?" Kim asked in mock shock. "After all these years Ron, do I really need to say it?"
"I know… I know. Check your name." Ron relented with an exasperated sigh. After years as a member of Team Possible, he knew an un-winnable argument when he saw one. Sometimes, when faced with an impossible position, a strategic withdrawal was the best course of action. "So how do you want to swing this?"
"I thought you'd never ask." Kim lasciviously grinned.
Infiltrating the security perimeter actually proved to be easier than expected. A well-placed tin of knockout gas felled a nearby sentry and the numerous stacks of crates and boxes served to conceal the team's movements as they worked their way ever deeper into the facility, and closer to their objective. Dodging the occasional passer-by, they took a circuitous route through the maze of materials and eventually took shelter behind a large tracked vehicle.
"Okay, everybody hold up." Kim instructed as she activated the wrist Kimunicator. "Take a quick breather while I get some pictures."
"Uh, not to second guess your ordinarily badical leadership skills KP," Ron interjected, "but maybe this isn't really the time for sightseeing."
"Not sightseeing… Scouting, Ron." Kim clarified. "When we make it back to friendly lines, it'll be nice having some intel to show for our trouble." She turned her attention to a row of armored trucks a few yards away.
"Cobra assault vehicles." She murmured to herself as she snapped several photos. "Looks like somebody's been on a spending spree."
"Uh, KP?"
"Yeah Ron."
"What about this guy here?"
Kim turned to face her boyfriend and found him gesturing toward the large steel monstrosity that the group was currently sheltered against.
For all outward appearances it looked like a normal battle tank, but a closer inspection revealed several key departures from traditional tank design. The most obvious of these was the lack of a revolving turret, but size was also an issue, with the overall dimensions of this steel beast being much larger than one would normally anticipate. The angular, olive drab casemate rose to a height of nearly nine feet and the barrel of the main gun stretched more than 15 feet from its base.
"What the heck?" Kim stammered.
"Tank-killer." Ron remarked, casting a distasteful eye across the machine. "Hard as heck to knock out and packs a serious punch. Not having a turret keeps the sticker price down."
"I guess that's understandable." Kim thoughtfully concurred. "No turret means no bearings to lube, no drive system to install, no need to balance everything, and you can stick a much bigger gun on the front. Say, how do you know so much about this Ron?"
"Let's just say our personal histories cross in some rather unpleasant ways."
"Huh?"
"Try to imagine it with a big black cross painted on the side."
"Ohhhhhh, yikes!"
"Yeah. Honestly, I don't know what's worse: This blast from the past or the fact that these tin pushers are so hard up for ideas they're taking tips from the losers."
"Well you don't have to worry about that here." Alexia interjected, closely inspecting a data plate that was bolted to the vehicle's side just above the track. "I don't think the Germans were slapping these on their junk back in forty-four."
The group quickly gathered around to inspect the mysterious label, and the message was plain for all to see.
"Another quality HenchCo. product… Better villainy through innovation."
"So THAT'S what they meant when they said I could win a tank!" Ron exclaimed. "Man, I've always wondered about that."
"Be glad you didn't win." Kim grumbled as she snapped a digital photo. "It's nowhere near street legal and the gas mileage has gotta be beyond lousy."
"Yeah, and Mom probably wouldn't let me park it in the driveway either." Ron sighed. "Yet another dream bites the dust."
"I'm sure you'll get over it." Kim groaned, powering down the Kimmunicator once more. "Now let's get ready to move again. Everyone on me."
Moving quickly once again, the group edged ever closer to their target until finally they were no more than 20 yards away. From that point, peeking around a corner, they got their first detailed view of their quarry.
"Wow, she's a big bird." Kim gawked. "Say Ron, just what kind of time do you have in something this size, anyway?"
Ron responded by glancing at his watch.
"About ten fifteen." He replied.
"I had to ask." She groaned. Instilling confidence was a skill that her boyfriend still needed to work on.
"And that's not our only problem." Alexia spoke up. "Check out tall dark and nosey over there."
Sure enough, a lone sentry was pacing near the tail of the aircraft. With an AK-47 cradled casually in his arms he wore a look of bored indifference on his face. Clearly this was a man who had not chosen his assigned duty this day.
"So how do you plan to get us past this fine gentleman?" Wally inquired from the rear of the group.
"Knockout gas?" Ron offered.
"Too far away." Kim declined. "He'd notice before we could ever get close enough."
Undaunted, Ron tried a different tack.
"I see. So you're saying we need a distraction then?" he offered, the wheels of his mind already turning. "Now you're speaking my language. Ah-booyah."
"Why? What do you have in mind?" Kim asked, glancing back and forth between Ron and the sentry who by now had turned his back toward the group once again.
"Watch and learn." Ron answered, quickly flipping through several transmutable camouflage patterns on his battle suit before settling on one that bore a remarkable resemblance to the fatigues worn by the guard. "Oh, and be ready to move on my signal."
"Wait! What's the signal?"
"You'll know it when you see it."
And with that, Ron strode out from behind the crates that hid their position and began walking straight toward their quarry.
The lone sentry absent-mindedly kicked a pile of dirt from beneath his boot and sighed in utter annoyance. Of all the rotten duties he could draw, here in a place where the thrill of battle was all around him, the entire island being turned into a war zone, he was stuck behind the lines, twiddling his thumbs and guarding this 30-year-old reject from a Soviet scrap yard. Why they even bothered to maintain this flying relic was beyond him, let alone why he had to stand here in the sun and guard it. If he had his druthers they would sell the piece of junk to the first salvage yard in the phone book and transfer him to a front line combat unit. At least there he could be of some use.
He was just about to start listing all of the ways he could do away with this oversized eggbeater when a slender young man in a camouflage jump suit strode briskly past. The freckled, boyish face was not one that he recognized, but the young gentleman wore what appeared to be standard issue fatigues and walked with intent of purpose that suggested he knew exactly where he was and why he was there.
But still, there was something off about this newcomer.
With curiosity now consuming him, the sentry turned as the young man slipped past and walked directly up to the aircraft he was charged with securing. He watched as with two quick leaps the golden-haired mystery man ascended the ladder to the main cockpit and popped the hatch.
"Hey there!" the sentry finally shouted. "Just one second there!"
"Yeah?" The blond man replied.
"Excuse me, but just what exactly are you doing?"
The young man glanced into the cockpit before returning his attention to the sentry and answering in a very matter-of-fact tone.
"I'm taking this chopper. What does it look like I'm doing?"
"I can see that." The sentry responded, ominously shifting his grip on the weapon he carried. Truth be told, he was none too thrilled with this young man's flippant attitude right now. "You got any authorization papers to be doing that?"
The young blond simply smiled knowingly.
"No, but she does."
The sentry momentarily blinked in confusion, but quickly found his attention redirected when a he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder.
"Authorize this!" a fiery redhead with blazing green eyes growled. Rearing back she drove her fist into his solar plexus, and the entire world instantly went dark.
"Fill that out in triplicate." Kim sneered as she stood over the fallen sentry, gently rubbing her knuckles.
"And file it under 'oh' for 'owned'!" Ron enthusiastically added. "Way to be, KP!"
"Right. Let's not get cocky." Kim chided. "We're not out of the woods yet."
"I thought we walked out of the woods last night."
"Just start the darn chopper!"
"Right then! One red hot whirly bird coming right up!" Ron said as he ducked into the cockpit.
"Everybody else into the back." Kim ordered. "This flight ain't waiting for stragglers."
"Actually, I'd rather stay right here with you." Wally offered. In all the commotion, Kim hadn't even noticed the young prince sliding up beside her.
"And why is that?" Kim asked with barely contained annoyance.
"Because of them." Wally pointed out.
"Huh? What are you talking… Ohhhhhh, snap!"
Just a few stacks away, a small group of men had noticed the commotion, and were now making a commotion of their own.
"KP! We've got company!" Ron called out through the open cockpit door. "And I don't think it's the welcome wagon!"
"No duh!"
"And sarcasm isn't helping any!"
"Just get that oversized salad shooter running already! I've got this!"
Kneeling down by the prone form of the sentry she had just decked, Kim rolled the unconscious form over and unclipped the equipment belt from around his waist. Then, grabbing the belt with one hand and the man's rifle with the other she dashed over to a nearby row of crates and crouched down, taking as much concealment as she could find.
"Everybody take cover!" she shouted at the group. As three people dove behind whatever they could find, she checked the safety and pressed the polished wooden stalk into her shoulder. With trembling hands and a racing heart, she took an apprehensive breath.
"I must truly love you, Ron." She thought to herself. "Because I hate violence, and I… hate… guns!"
Uniformed men hit the deck and scattered as the first volley sailed over their heads. It was clearly a well-placed burst, high enough to present no real danger, but low enough to convey the threat that the next one might not be so pleasant. The reaction to this threat was mixed, with some returning fire while others opted to stay down, deciding that in this case, discretion was truly the better part of valor.
As Alexia and Wally crawled over to her position, Kim continued to lay down a withering barrage of suppressive fire. Killing another human being was of course the last thing that she wanted to do, but if she could just keep these goons pinned down and away from their position, then maybe the mission could be accomplished with everyone walking away unharmed.
But while she may have been idealistic in that way, she wasn't completely naive. She knew that the longer this drew out, the greater the odds that tragedy would indeed strike someone nearby.
"Anytime now Ron!" she shouted, jamming another clip into the rifle's breech and racking the action lever.
"Well maybe you'd like to come up here and find the starter for me then!" Ron shouted back.
"You can't find the starter?" This was currently the last thing she wanted to hear.
"It's not my fault!" Ron defensively insisted. "All the labels are in Russian! I mean, what's up with this crazy language anyway? There's about five bazillion letters and half of them are backwards 'R's!"
"Try searching for a word that looks like 'hayano'!" Alexia shouted over the din of battle. By now more enemy troops were joining the fray, and the whistle of bullets could be heard above their own heads.
"Hayano?" Kim asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Russian for 'start'." Alexia stated. "It's not pronounced that way, but the Cyrillic characters bear a certain resemblance to English."
"You speak Russian?"
"I speak five languages. English, French, Russian, Italian and Japanese."
"Super for you." Kim mumbled as she turned her attention back to the battle. Just when she thought there weren't any more ways for this royal-blooded bimbo to show her up, the duchess revealed a new aspect of herself. At this point she would only be half surprised if Alexia revealed she saved the world in her spare time too.
Pumping another burst into a tarp-covered stack of supplies, she forced a pair of helmeted soldiers into a hasty retreat. Her focus was so intent of the unfolding scene before her that she failed to notice the dull thud of a blunt object landing between her and the prince.
"Excuse me, but what's this?" Wally asked, tapping Kim on the shoulder. Supremely annoyed at the unwelcome distraction, she spun around ready to tear into the young prince for not waiting until a more appropriate time. Her heart nearly stopped however when she saw the dark, pineapple-like casing he held in his hand. Its clean lines and obvious lack of a safety lever making its oblong shape all the more menacing.
"You don't want it!" Was all she could scream.
For the most part, the prince seemed unfazed by it all. Thoroughly oblivious to the danger, he simply shrugged in resignation and casually tossed the offending object over his shoulder, back in the direction from which it had come.
Then, it was the enemy's turn to scream.
Like rats abandoning an exposed nest, half-a-dozen troops vaulted from behind a stack of crates and scrambled for cover. Two seconds later, the area where they had been erupted in a cloud of dust and flaming debris.
"Whaaaaaat?" Wally whined when he saw Kim staring at him in complete shock. Kim could only shake her head in disbelief and return her attention to the task at hand, resolving to revisit the issue at a later date. Deep down, she wondered whether the young royal was a genius or a nut.
"Booyah! We have contact!" Ron suddenly shouted from behind the group as the telltale whine of turbines spinning up began to mix with the noise of battle. For Kim and the rest of the team, it was at that moment the most welcome sound in the world.
But the telltale clanking of an approaching destructo-bot, however, was not.
"Alexia!" Kim shouted as she leveled the assault rifle once more. "Get everybody onboard the chopper! I'll hold this oversized coffee can off!"
When she received no response she glanced to her right, only to find empty space where the duchess had been kneeling just moments before.
"Great." Kim silently cursed. "Of all the times for Little Miss Thing to go AWOL, she picks right now."
Swearing an oath to deal out a royal beat down once this nightmare was finally over; she drew a bead of the advancing automaton and pulled the trigger. Much to her dismay, the armor-piercing rounds simply glanced off the machine's steel carapace. A second burst met with similar effect, and only prompted the mechanical menace to increase its speed.
"Ho boy. So not good." She silently cringed.
Suddenly, there came a mighty flash and roar from behind her, and the droid's torso exploded in a shower of smoke and shattered steel. The force of the blast was enough to send the machine sprawling backward several feet, crashing into a stack of crates and bringing another stack down on top of it, its arms and legs flailing the entire time.
Stunned by the sudden turn of events, Kim slowly turned around to see the duchess standing a few feet behind her; a self-satisfied smile across her face and the still smoking tube of an empty RPG-7 perched jauntily on her shoulder. She nodded in acknowledgement to Kim.
"What… the…" Kim stammered.
"You know, it's really amazing what some people leave lying around." She shrugged, casually tossing the spent launcher into the dirt. "Now c'mon Wally. Let's grab a seat and ace this place."
"Yee noo, eetz reely ehmeezing whet peeple leave leeing eerend." Kim indignantly mocked. That girl was so cruising for a bruising just then.
By now the din of battle was being drowned out by the roar of the chopper. With rotors now spinning at full speed, the downwash produced a dust cloud that welled up and danced about with hurricane intensity, effectively obscuring the group from prying eyes. Peering through the billowing cloud, Kim could barely see Ron motioning to her. It was time to go.
Dropping the "borrowed" AK-47 to the ground, she raced to the front of the copter and flung herself into the forward cockpit, slamming the hatch and fastening the safety harness as quickly as she could. Just behind her, Ron checked his own harness and gave a final once over to the controls. Although he couldn't read a word of what was printed, he was quickly discovering that helicopter design was relatively uniform no matter where in the world you were. The placement of key controls was familiar enough to him that he could at least make educated guesses as to how most functions worked.
Satisfied that all at least appeared as it should be, he grasped the two throttle levers and nudged them forward. Then, watching the tachometer as the revs climbed, he grasped the collective control by his left hip and gently pulled up, gingerly coaxing the 10,000-pound beast away from the bonds of mother earth. For the first time in three days, they were airborne once again.
Author's Notes:
Well Hey-diddily-ho there fellow literary aficionados. And welcome back to the latest installment in this little tale of ours.
As you're by now aware, there's no shortage of action and military hardware in this chapter. So without further adieu, let's cut right to the guts of it all.
Otokar Cobra: A four-wheeled light-armored vehicle developed by the Turkish military in the mid 1990s, the Cobra borrows heavily in its design from the American High-Mobility-Multipurpose-Wheeled-Vehicle. (Humvee)
Built with a clean undercarriage and a distinctive V-shaped hull, the Cobra is highly adept at resisting the effects of small arms fire, land mines and improvised explosive devices. Meanwhile, its open and relatively spacious interior offers a high degree of adaptability, allowing for the fulfillment of multiple roles. Using a stripped-down vehicle as a base, the Cobra can serve as a platform for the roles of armored personnel carrier, anti-tank vehicle, light reconnaissance, air search radar platform, forward observation, artillery spotter, armored ambulance, mobile communications center, radio scout and armored command post. Furthermore, by fitting a turret atop the Cobra's armored roof, weapon systems ranging from 12.7-millimeter heavy machine guns to 40-millimeter grenade launchers to anti-tank and surface-to-air missiles can be mounted.
Currently more than 3,500 Cobras have been produced for deployment by ten countries including Turkey, and the list of potential new customers increases every year.
Tank-Killer: The vehicle that Ron takes issue with early in this chapter has its roots in the hellish days of World War Two. As the war raged on across Eastern Europe in the summer of 1942, oddly designed tank-like vehicles began arriving on the battlefields of the western Soviet Union. Lacking the rotating turrets that characterized traditional battle tanks, they functioned more or less as rolling bunkers, prowling the countryside and bringing tremendous fire to bear on enemy tanks and fortifications alike.
First deployed by the German Wermacht, they were dubbed Sturmgeschutz, meaning "Assault Guns," and quickly proved effective, due primarily to their thicker armor and larger guns when compared against traditional tanks. Not to be outdone however, the Soviet Union soon responded with their own series of tank hunting vehicles: Steel behemoths boasting even larger guns and thicker armor than the German examples.
But as the war raged on and the tide of battle turned against the Third Reich, turretless tanks took on an entirely new significance. Not being burdened by elaborate drive systems, troublesome bearings or delicate balance mechanisms, turretless tanks could be produced quicker, less expensively and in greater numbers than their turreted cousins. Faced with mounting losses and dwindling resources, this was a solution that Germany desperately needed.
The vehicle that Ron takes such issue with in this chapter got its start as a machine known as a Jagdpanther. (Hunting Panther) Built upon the chassis of the venerable Panzerkampfwagen V, (a.k.a. the "Panther Tank"), Jagdpanthers first began arriving on the battlefield in early 1944. Deployed on both the eastern and western fronts, 415 Jagdpanthers would ultimately roll into battle under the banner of the German Reich. Although their presence had little effect on the war's ultimate outcome, they proved a formidable presence and a force to be reckoned with, and are today recorded by history as one of the most effective mobile artillery weapons of the war, standing beside the Soviet SU-100 in that distinction.
And even ultimate German defeat was not the end of this fearsome machine. Following the war, an updated version of the Jagdpanther was produced for the reorganized German military. Called the Kanonenjagdpanzer (Cannon Tank Hunter), its 90-millimeter gun represented a marginal improvement over the 88-millimeter armament carried by the original model.
But as time went by, advances in armor design rendered even these upgraded vehicles obsolete, and many were converted to either missile-equipped tank hunters, or to unarmed reconnaissance vehicles. For the purposes of our story however, our friends at HenchCo have taken the idea and ran with it. Who knows what modern surprises they've installed, but rest assured that this newest incarnation is battlefield capable and available with generous financing terms for repeat customers.
Mi-24 Hind: The Soviet Union was admittedly a late entry into the field of military helicopters. Even by the early 1960s when the American UH-1 Iroquois was first being deployed, the Soviets had no active helicopter program. Perhaps spurred on by the notable success of Russian immigrant Igor Sikorsky in America, the Soviet military was quick to catch up, however, and by the middle of the decade fielded a stable of large and powerful choppers.
Designed by Mikhail Leont'yevich Mil, the Mi-24 was first flown in September of 1969. Powered by twin Izotov TV3-177A turboshaft engines, the Hind produced a grand total of 34,000 horsepower and was capable of speeds exceeding 200 miles per hour. A crew of two sat in a tandem-style "double-bubble" cockpit toward the front of the craft, while up to eight fully armed troops could be carried in a compartment at the rear. Armed with a turret-mounted 12.7-millimeter Gattling gun in its chin, the Hind could also carry more than 3,300 pounds of ordinance beneath a pair of abbreviated wings that also served to generate lift at high speeds, taking strain off of the main rotor. Open windows in the rear compartment could be fitted with light machine guns, allowing onboard infantry troops to defend the craft as well.
Since its inception more than 2,000 Hinds have been built, many of which now serve in the militaries of more than 50 other nations. The Russian Federation, (the political descendent of the Soviet Union), recently announced plans to replace its aging fleet of Mi-24s with as many as 300 more modern Mi-28 helicopters, but with the hundreds of examples still serving around the world, it is likely the venerable Hind will continue flying for many years to come.
M-134: A product of necessity, the M-134 has its genesis in the jungle canopies of Vietnam. For it was here that American helicopter crews discovered the disturbing truth that their door-mounted M-60 machine guns were ineffective against Viet Cong troops hidden within the dense foliage. What was needed was a weapon with a much higher rate of fire. Something that could literally put out a "stream of lead," but at the same time not suffer from the problems of jamming and overheating that had plagued earlier attempts at fast firing machine guns.
The task of finding a solution to this daunting challenge fell to General Electric, who quickly looked to their successful 20-millimeter M-61 Vulcan cannon as a model. Using the electric drive system and multi-chambered firing mechanism of the Vulcan, it wasn't long before the engineers at GE had a .30 caliber weapon that boasted a firing rate of up to 6,000 rounds per minute. They lovingly dubbed their creation the "Minigun," and sent it off to the jungles and rice paddies of Vietnam.
Designated as the M-134 by the military, the minigun quickly proved its worth. The weapon was small enough to be mounted on virtually any vehicle, was reliable even in the mud and moisture of the equatorial environment, and put out enough ammunition to literally cut down trees en masse. For the first time, chopper crews had the ability to clear landing zones and put VC ground troops on the defensive wherever they decided to land.
Well that just about does it for another chapter, folks. After much trial and tribulation, our friends are in the air once again. The question is for how long can they stay there? Because if this experience has taught us anything, it's that no success or failure is necessarily permanent, and circumstances can change on the proverbial dime.
As always, leave a review and receive a reply. Take care, and I'll catch all you cats on the go 'round.
Sayonara!
Nutzkie…