---Eastern Russia, May 3rd, 1941---
She didn't see herself getting used to this Lynx tank.
The light vehicle rolled forward across the fairly desolate Russian terrain. Her fairly cocky gunner on the 20mm cannon casually rolled one of the rounds in his hand. Alicia was uncomfortable with the High-Explosive round being tossed about like... something that didn't detonate on contact.
"Corporal Schmidt," she started, "please stop that."
"Why, Lieutenant Melchiott? It's not armed until I prime it."
"Still... it's a 20mm cannon round..."
"It also helps me think to toy with something."
Did he really need to toy with something that could blow the tank skyward? "Toy with something... less potentially fatal."
Schmidt placed the 20mm round back on the rack with the other rounds. He then pulled a 7.92 round out of the end of the belt on an MG34.
Well, it was less likely to blow them skyward.
Alicia peered through the periscope on the tank's small cupola, to attempt to take her mind off the Gunner/Radio Operator that was just as likely to kill her as any Russian, though he'd probably do it by accident.
The tank's diver down in the hull shouted up. "Lieutenant... Can I call you Alicia for the moment."
She nodded, then realized that this would do no good for a person peering through a slot in the armor. "Sure, Fuchs."
"Ok then, Alicia, what do you make of Russia thus far?"
"It's... different."
"Really? Seems just about the same as the far eastern bits of Gallia to m- HOLY SHIT!"
The small Lynx suddenly swerved as it and the halftrack following it had what appeared to be a cannon round explode near them.
The sudden stop caused Alicia to hit her head on the side of the cupola. The cramped vehicle was enough to nearly give her claustrophobia, but right now was the only thing standing between her, and, as she looked out to look for what had fired at them, a pair of Soviet tanks, a BT-7 and a T-26.
"Load a round, Schmidt!"
The gunner stuffed the 20mm round he'd been toying with into the tank's main gun.
"Which way are they, Lieutenant?"
"Left, not far in the distance." Alicia felt the turret start to rotate upon her saying this.
"How far?"
"I don't know... nine-hundred meters, maybe?"
"seven-two-three meters..." Schmidt corrected, "Off by one-seven-seven, Lieutenant..."
"Just take them out!"
Her gunner nodded in obligation, and pulled the trigger to fire off the small cannon. Alicia nearly hit her head on the cupola's side again when the tank rocked from the gun firing. She quickly came to the conclusion that it would be better for her to lean out of the tank, since she didn't feel like getting a concussion from smacking her head against her own vehicle's turret.
---Ditch, a few meters ahead of the two Soviet tanks---
"What is that crazy German doing?"
Oleg popped his head up above the side of the ditch, to see this crazy German that Sergei spoke off. He and his brother were lying prone, along with Ivan Melnikov, the sargent, Dmitri Orlov, and the squad's lancer.
"Perhaps he's getting some fresh air," Oleg said a bit sarcastically. "That little tank looks pretty cramped."
"But with a pair of our tanks shooting at him?" Sergei was aiming for the German's center of mass with his Nagant. "Wow. Those Germans are dumber than the propaganda made them out to be."
The Mosin-Nagant kicked Sergei back a couple of millimeters when the younger of the two Vodniks pulled the trigger. Oleg leaned Ludmilla over the top of the ditch, and opened up on the German officer. He probably wouldn't hit him, though.
"Did you get him, Sergei?"
"Nope, the dirty German ducked back inside that tank." Sergei turned his back to Oleg. "Hey! Volkov! Can you take that tank out?"
The squad's Lancer spoke up. "I'll try. Remember, these PGR-32's aren't the most accurate things," he was shortly interrupted by the firing of the cannons on the BT-7 and T-26. "Besides, shouldn't I save ammo until-"
A round from the German tank struck the BT-7 in the gun mount, a lucky shot. The light tank was blown into fragments.
Oleg, Sergei, Dmitri, Ivan, and the lancer all turned to look at the remains of the BT.
The damage done did not match up with a 20mm round.
---Alicia's Lynx tank---
Schmidt took his eye off the gun's sight.
"Whoa... Now I see why you didn't want me toying with the 20mm round..." the gunner said, turning to face his tank commander.
She was wiping her forehead, having again struck her head against the cupola, though she preferred having a headache to not having a head n the first place.
"Eagle! Eagle! This is Cuckoo! Are you alright, Eagle?" Welkin's voice came in over the radio.
Schmidt picked up the radio. "This is Eagle. We're fine. A bit of a headache," Schmidt nodded to Alicia jestingly, "but we're fi-..."
Another 45mm round detonated, this time, way too close to the tank for comfort, rocking the vehicle more than the gun could. Alicia gain smacked he head into the cupola. She was going to get brain damage if this kept up.
"Fuchs, get us out of here!" Alicia called to the driver.
"Got it, miss!" The Lynx's engine roared, it lurched forward, and suddenly dropped down with a clunk onto the side the 45mm round had landed near.
The road wheels had broke. Alicia officially hated this tank, and wasn't about to let it be a steel coffin for her. She pushed the Cupola back open, and grabbed her MP40, and a strange sword issued to her personally by Hitler himself.
She figured it was for cosmetic reasons, so she held no intention of using it (and Welkin had already convinced the Captain not to have her use it anyway.) Squad "H" was leaning against the Hanomag they had been riding in, the engine having been destroyed by the first round fired at them.
"What happened to Squad G?"
"What Squad G? The Ivans took them out a short while ago."
So that's what Russians were from henceforth. Alicia sore under her breath. Squad G had the only Antitank Rifleman, and she didn't know if the Lynx could get lucky with the 20mm gun again. Fuchs and Schmidt had apparently decided to ditch the tank, having there own submachine guns on hand as they left the disabled tank. Not a moment too soon, either, shortly after Fuchs had leaped clear, a 45mm round struck the tank, and the vehicle ceased to exist.
Alicia turned to the Squad H sargent, who'd managed to retain his K98. "You guys have a radio, right?"
"Had a radio. We have an operator, but no radio."
Alicia became frustrated. "Well, that's really damned useful." She could see that Squad H's sargent agreed with her.
"Never caught your name, Lieutenant."
Well, if she was going out, she'd better know who she was going out next to. "Melchiott. You?"
"Senior Sargent Herzog, Group Melchiott." The two chuckled; of course he belonged to group Melchiott. "Hey... Melchiott. You mean Squad D's sargent Melchiott?"
"The one and only."
"Squad C said something about you and Hans the pig-thingy, Christmas before..."
She tossed a unamused look at Herzog.
"... never mind. This is Squad C I'm talking about."
She nodded. "Damn straight, that was Squad C." Sure, they'd apologized, but that did nothing about before hand.
---Group "Gunther"---
"Cuckoo? Cuckoo, you read? Cuckoo!"
Welkin couldn't quite grasp what he'd seen through the periscope.
"Cuckoo, Respond! Damn it, Gunther, respond! Answer me!"
"Cuckoo here..."
Cuckoo isn't here. Captain von Grobel spoke over the radio, but Welkin didn't catch what his superior was saying.
"...Hey? You paying attention, Cuckoo?"
Welkin shook himself back to his senses. "Ah... yes, Captain."
"Then take out whatever knocked Eagle out before it troubles anyone else."
Welkin felt a bit of anger overtake him. "Yes, sir," he said, in a gruffer voice than he normally used. He turned to the rest of the tank crew. "You heard him. Let's go knock those Reds out of action."
The Panzer IV turned away from the rest of the Regiment, and sped up as best as it could. The two halftracks carrying Welkin's three squads of infantry followed him.
---End Chapter 21---
I'm starting to consider bumping this up to an "M" rating. While I've abstained (mostly) from simply carpet bombing you with my more 'fruity' language (in both English and German. I think I've only had characters use profanity quite sparingly), I think I may abandon that by the time Citadel or North Africa rolls along (it is quite plausible that I split up the regiment). That, coupled with *ahem*, and the fact that I'm becoming a bit more graphic in my descriptions (I think), it might not be a bad idea.
Also, a note on Peter's current absence: I'm not telling the story from group Bergmann's POV, for the time being I will split my attention between groups Melchiott and Gunther. I'll admit; Group Melchiott sounds a hell of a whole lot better than the last guy who commanded it (Klaus Werner, the one actual Nazi besides Hitler and any member of the SS.)