A loud boom was quickly followed by a sharp crack. Several long seconds of silence elapsed before the same procession of noises repeated, and again, and again, and again. The woods of the USS Algonquin was alive with the thunderous roar of cannon, once unheard of, now quickly becoming a part of the ship's routine. The Dungeness tankery team was in the middle of gunnery practice, with Valarie and Ray supervising and providing guidance where needed. As it turns out, it was needed in a lot of places.

"You're falling short by about twenty meters or so," Valarie informed. She stood right behind the turret on the rear engine deck, a sizeable piece of space as far as tanks were concerned. With binoculars in hand, she used them to observe the fall of shots of the guns as they target a crudely thrown-together target at five hundred meters away. "Falling short with both the 37 and 76."

"Ugh! It's hard!" Roxanne cried. "I get confused by the two gun sights!

"Two different caliber guns managed by one gunner," Valarie tsked. Leaves little to wonder why tanks with coaxial weaponry tend to stick with machine guns."

"What's the deal with that?" Greta questioned. "Why does our tank have two cannons? I mean, we love it, but why?"

"There's something I read about the M6 that talked about this very thing. Give me a minute or two to find out."

Valarie whipped out her phone and paced around the engine deck as she browsed websites on her device to find the information she read once before. She soon settled down and sat at the other end of the tank, feet dangling off the rear. Ray watched with bemusement as Valarie began to faintly rock her head back and forth as if she was listening to music, and since it was Valarie, data about tanks might as well be music to her ears.

Ray sat down on the tank, using the turret as something to rest against. He turned toward Greta and brought his voice down to a whisper.

"Now you've gone and done it. She's probably gonna read every related word to the M6 program, from reports, reviews, articles, the whole thing. This'll take a while."

"Wow...," Greta breathed. "How much does she know about tanks?"

Ray chuckled softly, then quickly stifled it to no attract Valarie's attention.

"Oh man, like you wouldn't believe. She's been a tank fanatic for fourteen of the seventeen years she's been alive. She has read and watched every possible resource she could find about armored fighting vehicles in all those years. It's her passion. It's what makes her wake up in the morning. Less nice people would say she has an obsession...an addiction."

"So, if I showed her a picture of a random tank from the internet, she'd tell me what it was?"

Ray nodded with a huge grin that creased his face.

"She'll tell you the name, the full name of the tank, country of origin, the caliber of its gun, the number of people needed to crew it and their respective roles, hell, I wouldn't put it beyond her if she could also say what factory the thing rolled out of."

"Wooow," Greta remarked with a sense of awe. She looked beyond Ray to glance at Valarie, then back at him. "Are you two dating?"

The boldness of her asking such a question, and it coming from completely nowhere, made him stumble his speech in response.

"W-what-n-"

"Well, is she?"

"She's no─"

"Are gonna get married?"

"Oh my god!" Ray exclaimed. He buried his blushing face in his hands as deep as he could. "We're not dating! We're only friends! Good friends!"

"Oh, okay," Greta reacted plainly. "...Do you want a girlfriend?"

"Already got one."

"She pretty?"

"Totally."

"Is she prettier than her?" Greta was referring to Valarie.

Ray quickly looked over his shoulder to look at Valarie and breathed a sigh of relief to still see her on her phone, researching. He then gave Greta a look that only made her giggle.

"Questions like that is a great way to put a guy in an unwinnable situation."

"It's only a question. Why can't you answer it?"

"I'd rather take a stroll onto a minefield, thank you. How about we change the questions to something else like, I dunno, tankery related?"

"Fine," Greta took a moment to conjure up something to ask. Her face then lit up. "Oh! So, I read once that tank crews used empty shells to..." she got read. "Go to the...bathroom. Have you ever done that?"

Ray could only look at her for several lengthy moments before he could muster up the words for a response.

"No, I haven't," he finally said with a sigh. "I hope to god that I never have to."

Before Greta could ask any more of her 'interesting' questions, Valarie found the information she was seeking and returned to the pair. Ray couldn't be more relieved.

"Alright, she said, her eyes still on her phone."From what I can tell, the reason why the M6 has both a 76mm and a 37mm as its coaxial was...the result of a poor understanding of what a heavy tank should be. Also, the Sherman could do its job pretty much the same for lower cost and was easier on the logistics," Valarie noted Greta's crestfallen face. She acted quickly. "But! If you guys say you can make it work, then I believe you."

"We can, and we will!" Greta exclaimed, followed by the echoing cheers of her crews inside the M6.

"Alright, let's resume shooting. Focus on the 76 for now."

With a cute salute, Greta relayed the order to her crew, and they got right to work. In no time at all, the booms of cannon sounded once more.

Once she was back outside, Cassandra sat down at a bench in a courtyard in front of the apartment complex. It was approaching midday, and though the sun in the cloudless sky was beaming down on her, the day wasn't too terribly hot. It was that autumn weather that she adored.

On the bench, she pondered her next move. Cassandra got the information that she hoped to find, and already was the genesis of her next phase of operations beginning to take shape. Now, she had to get the info Juliana wanted. She already had one full name, Cassidy McBee, and with a little more sleuthing of the girl's social media, should she have, her brother that she mentioned would be found as well. That was two names, but there was more. Cassandra finally had a name to attach to the guy who was at the epicenter of her so-called 'crusade' to save the sport of tankery, Ray. For so long, she only knew him as Mojave Rose's vice-captain, and now that she knew his name brought some degree of satisfaction. Then there was the fourth, a girl by the name of Natalie. A girl that Cassandra gathered to be Ray's girlfriend.

It was all coming together.

So, she had a few names, though only one full one. She needed more. Juliana wanted more. She wouldn't be content with only a handful of names, with only one having a surname. Now, how to get more? She didn't need a list of every single member of the Mojave Rose team. A good dozen or so would suffice.

Going up to random people and asking if they were on the team, and if so, ask for their name was the first thing to come to mind but was quickly discarded. It was too blunt of an approach, not to mention it would draw suspicion from the more astute members of the team should she come across them. She needed something more subtle. No other ideas came to mind, and none would if she remained sitting on that bench in the empty courtyard.

Getting up, she started to make her way back to Catalina's campus to return to the festival to see if anything over there could give her some more ideas. During her walk, she didn't stop thinking of a way to get names in a natural enough manner. She was so focused on the matter that when she turned a corner, she bumped right into a girl who was pulling a wagon behind her, whose squeaking wheels she failed to hear.

"Woah! Sorry," Cassandra apologized. "That was my bad. I was off thinking into space."

"Ah, it's no big deal," the girl replied with a little wave. "Not like I'm gonna bruise here."

Cassandra couldn't help but peek at the wagon the girl had with her. It was a collection of art supplies; an easel, white canvass boards, numerous empty jars of paint, and paint-coated brushes. In addition to all that was a clipboard that was placed on top of everything. An idea was beginning to manifest in Cassandra's head.

"What's with all that stuff?"

"All this?" the girl said, all cheery. Cassandra now noticed her hands covered with paint splotches. "Just came back from the festival where I did speed paintings of people's portraits for money. For ten bucks, I'd paint your portrait in less than a minute! Now, before you bust out the cash, I'm fresh out of paint," the girl reached into her pocket and showed off an envelope that was packed with cash before safely tucking it away. "As you can see, business was good."

"Now that's impressive," Cassandra complimented. "People who paint just fascinate me. Those that do it quickly, even more so. You must be damn good to pull in all that money."

"Well," the girl went into a blush. "I'm pretty okay if I do say so myself."

"So, uh, what's with that clipboard?"

"Was getting names down at the festival to gauge interest in a speed painting club I wanna start!" the girl was beyond excited. Her enthusiasm was so great Cassandra swore she felt the heat. "The money I got today will fund it...if it gets approved, that is. If not, oh well," the girl shrugged. "At least I got a nice payday."

Cassandra couldn't believe her luck. Serendipity has struck twice today.

"You know, I'm on my way to the festival to record feedback, but, man, I'm such a klutz that I forgot what I needed to do the job back at my dorm. You wouldn't happen to have a, say, spare clipboard, paper, and pen, would you?"

"Hold on," the girl dug into her wagon and pulled out exactly what Cassandra needed. "You can have these. I bought way more than I needed."

"Oh, nice! Can't have things go to waste, can we?"

"No, we cannot!" the girl trumpeted. "This ship is nuts about going green and all that jazz. But you already know that. You're a student."

"Uh-huh, sure," Cassandra held the material close to her. "Anyway, I got a job to do. Thanks for the stuff."

"No problem! Good luck!"

The girl waved goodbye and left with her wagon in tow. Cassandra resumed her walk and felt a tinge of guilt within her. She was genuinely complimenting the girl about her paintings and was impressed that she made a whole bunch of money off her skills. Cassandra never understood why Juliana had such a disdain for the arts. Whenever the girl ranted, Cassandra tuned her out and waited for her to finish. Maybe if she met this girl, Cassandra thought, she'd change her mind.

"I almost feel bad lying to you," she spoke to herself. "Not enough to stop, though."

She picked up the pace and rushed off to the pretzel festival.

"That's it! You're getting close! Ten meters short! The dust from the impact is getting the target all dirty! Another shell!" Valarie exclaimed

"Another shell!" Greta repeated to her loaders.

The loading process for the M6 was 'unique' and one of the reasons why the tank never entered mass production. The design necessitated two loaders, one in the hull and another in the turret. Billie was the loader in the turret, and there were only three 76mm rounds that were in a rack behind her. The rest of the ammo that was in her reach was for the 37mm. The three 76mm rounds in the turret were spent very early on during gunnery practice, so Darcy's job was to pass more shells stowed in the hull. That made the reload for the 76mm a laborious affair as Darcy struggled to heft the shell up to Billie, who struggled as well to load the round into the breech.

With the gun ready, Roxanne focused all her energy to get the range just right. With a slight adjustment of the elevation handle, she felt confident in her work.

"I got it this time. I know it!"

"Fire!"

The tank boomed and was rocked back slightly as it sent a round downrange. Mere moments later, the target that was laid out disappeared in a flurry of dirt and dust.

"That's a hit!" Valarie cheered. "Target destroyed!"

The whole M6 crew entered into a celebration.

"Roxy hit something! She did, she did!"

"Woo!"

"I knew she would!"

"Amazing!"

"Very, very good," Valarie said calmly, a signal for everyone to settle down. "That's enough shooting for now. Let's get some driving done. I got some maneuvers for you guys to try."

"Sounds like a plan...Hey, check this out," Greta strapped the oxygen mask on her face. After some adjustment, she fiddled with a wire that went from the mask to inside the turret. "Cecily," she said, voice muffled. "Head to the circuit."

"Yeeesss, ma'am!" Cecily acknowledged. Valarie could hear her voice coming through the headphones that were integrated with Greta's headwear. "We're on our way!"

The machine lurched forward and took a turn to the left to get on a dirt road that led deeper into the woods. All the while, Ray and Valarie held on to the exterior handholds, her curiosity piquing about Dungeness's uniforms. What she thought was for aesthetics, were in fact, practical.

"Those oxygen masks double as microphones?" Valarie asked with wonder.

"Weeelll, the oxygen mask doesn't give me air, but it does work as a mic. I'm tapped into both the radio and intercom systems."

"Alright...that's really cool! You all look like old-school pilots!"

"We totally do, and it's awesome!"

The M6 drove on the road for a few short minutes to a place Valarie and Ray understood to be the 'circuit'. It was a track that circled around a sizeable grove of trees that Greta and the team spent a week after school constructing the track with a plow attached to the M6, churning the earth to their liking. The tank parked right on it.

"We like to use this track to test our speed," Greta informed. "So, what are we gonna do?

"Oh, just some fun driving maneuvers. Got a spare wire for me to plug in?"

"Yeah," Greta ducked down in the turret for a moment and returned with a wire in hand. "Should work."

"Aaand it does," Valarie said, all satisfied. She brought the microphone on her helmet near her lips and began to address the crew over the intercom.

"Alright, you can all hear me crystal clear, but I want to talk to the driver specifically."

"Wha-me?" Cecily reacted.

"Yep. We're going to test your reaction speed."

"Oh geez..."

"It'll be fun! Promise. Alright, Cecily, roll out. Go as fast as you can on this track."

"Copy!"

The engine wailed as the machine marched on, picking up speed, the hull vibrating as the engine increased in revs. Valarie nudged Ray on the shoulder.

"You better hold on for dear life."

He shot her a look of puzzlement. "What are you going to──"

"INCOMING FIRE!" Valarie shouted into her microphone. "Hard brake! Hard brake, now!"

Cecily screamed at the sudden shout and slammed on the brakes, bringing the M6 to a screeching halt. Yet, before Cecily could even utter a word, another order was shouted down.

"They're taking aim! Floor it!"

The M6's tracks spun in place for a moment as the tack went from a complete standstill to back to the blistering speed of twenty miles an hour. The pace was only maintained for ten seconds before another order was issued.

"Full stop! Turn hard to the right!"

"O-okay!"

The M6 again came to a halt and performed a ninety-degree turn to the right. A quiet ambiance then fell on the area thereafter save for the rumbling of the engine. Valarie looked at Ray, who held on to the handholds with a death grip. He never worked the IS-3 like this as he preferred to keep his breakfast where it belonged, his stomach. He didn't look too hot. Then, she turned to look at Greta, who was also looking back at her. Patiently and eagerly awaiting for the next words to come out of her mouth. Though, she did look a little carsick.

"Cecily," Valarie said in a soothing tone, almost motherly. "You see those bushes that are in front of us at one hundred meters or so?"

"I do, I do."

"There's an enemy tank hidden in there, all nice and concealed. They're about to fire. Angle the hull in a way that one of the corners is pointed directly toward those bushes. Quickly."

"Right...okay, okay."

For all Cecily knew, there was a tank in those bushes, so she worked quickly to get the tank in the way Valarie instructed. The right corner of the rather boxy hull of the M6 was aimed right at those bushes. Again, a silence ushered in and remained so for a few seconds when...wham! Valarie pounded her fist on the top of the turret, spooking everyone.

"That's a bounce!" she exclaimed with laughter. "Cecily, you are one good defensive driver."

"Thanks!" Cecily chirped. "Maaan, I'm getting sore already."

"Hmm," hummed Valarie. She glanced at her phone for the time. "It's about to be noon."

"Break for lunch?" Ray suggested.

Valarie nodded. "I'm down. What about the rest of you guys!"

"Yes!" Greta cheered. "Mrs. Greene said she'd bring some lunch for all of us. I bet she's waiting for us right now."

"Well, it'd be rude to keep her waiting! Let's go!"

Valarie giggled. "When it comes to food, Ray's in command. You guys better step on it, or else he'll get in the driver's seat himself."

It was lunchtime, and to absolutely no one's surprise, the festival was packed, to the strictest definition of the word. Certain corridors had people shoulder to shoulder as they moved to and fro, going to each booth to see what they had to offer and to try to find the line that blended in with the crowd. The smell of fresh pretzels hung in the air like a delightful fog. The aroma was nearly enough to convince Cassandra to brave the crowds and get a pretzel for herself, as what these bakers whipped up did make her mouth water. But there was work to be done.

Cassandra walked the outskirts as the center of the festival was far too dense for her to work effectively. The roar of chatter from festival go-ers made one-to-one conversation an impossibility. Her sight was set on people who wanted to sit away from the enormous crowds to enjoy themselves in relative peace.

Cassandra came across isolated groups of students and adults, though she did not approach them. They weren't the types of people she was after. From what she understood, Mojave Rose was a guest on board Catalina, and therefore, the team member's parents wouldn't be on the ship with them. Students with adults with them were ruled out. So, she would have to seek out groups of just students. Though, how could she reasonably guess which people are part of the tankery team? Cassandra initially found the prospect impossible, but the more she thought about it did some kind of solution present itself. Birds of a feather flock together.

She recalled her time at Old Dominion, of the tankery team she was expelled from. Vengeful emotions bubbled close to the surface, but the flames were smothered as she focused on her task.

She remembered how the tank crews of the team would often hang out together whenever they could as all the time spent in and near tanks made bonds formed, a benefit of the sport. Mojave Rose wouldn't be any different. So, Cassandra looked for groups of girls who were close together. She paid particular attention to groups of four or five as those were the typical numbers for a tank crew. Groups that fit the criteria were located, but she held back to study them further. Can't approach anyone just yet. She needed more hints.

Cassandra looked at a group that was sat at a table. Four girls were there, one of them with ginger hair. She watched as the other girls at the table would give their attention to the redhead whenever she spoke. It wasn't just a polite gesture. These girls snapped their heads to attention whenever the redhead said anything—tank crew behavior. It had to be. She headed right them, clearing her throat to get their attention.

"Excuse me, ladies," she greeted. "I'm going around gathering feedback for the festival, and if it's not too much of a bother, I'd like to record some of yours."

"Oh, okay," the ginger-haired girl said. "The pretzels are nice, but some are way too salty. Got so thirsty that I drank like a gallon of water and went to the bathroom a lot."

"Too much salt," Cassandra recorded. "Mind sharing your name? We're sticklers for cataloging all sorts of data."

"Sure. Robin Dougherty. Dough as in bread dough."

"I gotcha covered,"

Cassandra collected more names from the group, thanked them, and moved on. Once she got enough distance between them and her, she reviewed what she got and smiled. A good haul so far with four full names. A few more batches like that, and she'd call it a day.

Another group was sought out, and she came across a huge one at six people strong. She'd be damned if that wasn't a tank crew. They were immediately approached, but one of the girls, who wore aviators, spoke before she did.

"Nope, sorry," the girl said with a swipe of her hand. "None of us is interested in joining any clubs, taking extra electives, or anything like that. Tankery is enough of a commitment as it is."

Like Cassandra needed any more confirmation.

"Oh, I'm not here to sign you up for anything," she told them. "Just gathering feedback about festivities. Got any for me?"

"Yeah, I got some for ya. The pretzels are good and all, but they're not salty enough. Had to eat so many just to satisfy my cravings."

"Too little salt," Cassandra wrote down. "Name?"

"Jacqueline Treadwell."

"...Treadwell. Got it. Thank you kindly."

She got the rest of the names and, after a brief moment of surprise over finding that four of the six girls here were quadruplets, was on her merry way.

She jotted down ten full names in as many minutes. If this kept up, she'd be back at her dorm in Catalina, kicking back before the sun started the set. Cassandra wasted no time looking for another group. A minute went by searching when she walked to another area and saw four girls sat at a picnic table, chatting away. One of these she recognized instantly the moment she laid her eyes on her. She had fair skin and had her black hair done in a low bun. It was the girl that she nearly fought at the tankery convention in Houston all those months ago.

"Ah, there you are," she said coldly to herself. "I got plans for you...that's later, however."

Cassandra won't be approaching Natalie as even though she had disguised herself physically, there was nothing that could be done about her voice. Natalie would surely recognize that, and the ensuing hellstorm would ignite like napalm right then and there. Not wanting to risk the day's gains, she steered clear of Natalie and the group she was with.

She walked some distance away from where the girls were and found a place that was the quietest compared to all other spots in the festival. It was surrounded by tents that acted as sort of a sound barrier, and within was a collection of chairs, of which only a few were occupied. The two closest chairs to her were filled by two girls, one with short hair and another with long hair with bangs. She was close enough to overhear and acted nonchalantly to listen in.

"How are you feeling?" the short girl-haired asked.

"I'm just so...out of it," the other girl said. She yawned. "My mind has been a whirlwind...I can't focus on anything right now...having a damn flare-up...you know what's going on."

"Yes," there was some solemnity in the short-haired girl's voice. She reached out to hold her hand and squeezed it. "Wanna head back to your apartment? You could use some rest."

The other stood up. "Yeah...but not before I get a bag of chocolate-covered pretzels to take home with me."

"Sounds good to me."

The two, with hands held firmly, walked off. Cassandra felt a strong familiarity with one of the girls, the one with the bangs. In the aftermath of Old Dominion's defeat in the U.S Nationals, she was one of the people that confronted the team about her actions. This girl didn't speak a word, but Cassandra remembered that the girl glared at her the moment they entered Old Dominion's private tent and didn't stop until they left. Whatever this problem this girl had with Cassandra, she didn't know.

She contemplated for a moment to go up to the pair when they were talking to get their names, but something inside Cassandra told her that if she had gone and done that...the girl would've seen right through it.

No matter. She didn't need every name of every member of the Mojave Rose team. She only needed enough.

The M6 returned to the barn in no time at all. Greta and her crew have already acquainted themselves with the local topography and knew the quickest ways to wherever they wanted to go. When the machine came to a stop, and its engine turned off, everyone disembarked, with Greta and her crew being helped off by Ray and Valarie. With everyone on the ground, they entered the barn and found that Mrs. Greene was sitting on a lounging chair reading a book to occupy her time. By her side was a big plastic bag. When she noticed their return, she snapped her book shut and stood up.

"Back for lunch, I see,"

"Yeah!" Greta exclaimed. "We're doing so well!"

"Oh, that's wonderful to hear! Bet you all worked up an appetite, so I got lunch for all of you."

"That's very nice of you," Valarie thanked.

"It was no bother for me, really."

Lunch was passed to all people present, each contained in a white plastic container. Valarie and the rest returned back to the M6 and sat upon the machine, and dug in. She opened her container and found that the lunch Mrs. Greene got everyone was a sandwich of some kind; a red meat mixed with green cabbage, parsley, and some mayo. Valarie examined it, her head cocked to the side.

"Ray...what is this?"

"Crab roll," he answered. Ray took a bite and hummed in satisfaction. "It's funny, huh? The school is named after a crab. Imagine eating your mascot."

"Crab..." Valarie echoed. "Ray, I'm allergic to crab."

"Really? I didn't know."

"Neither did I 'till several months ago."

"I see...well...since you're allergic to crab anyway..."

Valarie chuckled as she saw where he was going with that. She gave him her roll.

"Thank you, Valarie."

"Don't mention it. I'd like some lunch of my own, though..."

"Hey, you finish your food already?" Greta asked. By the mayo on her face, she was a messy eater.

"I'm allergic to crab, Greta."

"Oh. That's sad."

"Well, crabs are ugly goblins, so I won't lose any sleep because I can't eat them."

"Whatever you say. So, you don't have anything to eat?"

"Well...no."

"Wait one second," Greta disappeared within the turret and returned with a packet of ramen noodles in her hand. "Will this do?"

"It'll do nicely," Valarie said, grabbing the packet. "You keep ramen in the tank, huh?"

"We like to go camping in the woods and use the tank to drive to our favorite spots. We keep camping stuff inside, and that includes food.

"That suits me just fine."

"You can ask Mrs. Greene to make the soup for you."

"Thanks, but," Valarie tore open the packet and took a bite of the ramen. "I like to eat it raw sometimes."

The lunch break came and went. Once everyone was finished with their food and trash thrown away, they congregated back at the front of the M6.

"Oh man, I don't eat enough crab," Ray remarked with a smile. He then snapped his fingers. "King crab. I gotta try that next. Cook it too."

"Alright, that's enough about crabs," Valarie said.

"I'm gonna get a crab plushie and throw it at you to see how you'll react."

"Do that, and I'll throw it back much harder and more accurate."

"A part of me would like to see that, but another part of me is scared that you'll hit a certain area that doesn't like being hit."

"I'd say go with the part of you that's smarter."

"Hey, we'll see what happens," he smiled. "Now, back to business then?"

"Yeah," Valarie took a look at the M6's guns. "Hmm, the 76 is just more viable in every conceivable scenario. It has the range and the penetrating power to take care of most tanks. The only scenario I see the 37 truly shining is taking out multiple tanks from the side thanks to its rapid-fire nature."

"Oh...well, I guess we just focus on the big gun then?" Greta noted.

"Yeah, that'll be the best thing going forward."

Ray looked at the coaxial 37mm while Valarie and Greta talked. He then spun around to face the two.

"Bait, you can use it to bait people."

"Bait?" Valarie asked. "What do you mean by that?"

"Hear me out. Say the M6 is pinned down by some enemy tank. The tank is around a corner and is waiting for the M6 to make a move. Fire the 37 by the enemy tank, and all the dirt and debris being knocked up makes the enemy think the M6 has fired and is in the reload. They reveal themselves and get blasted by the 76 that was ready to fire the whole time."

"Ray, that's not bad. Not bad at all."

"Ah, it's so sneaky! I love it!" Greta exclaimed. She was happy to know that the 37 can still play its purpose. "Let's get back to practice!"

"Right!" Valarie said with equal vigor.

The M6 crew remounted their vehicle, and Valarie and Ray got back to holding on on top of the machine.

"How about we do some things with those dual .50 cals?" Valarie suggested. "I can teach you all the useful things you can do with them." she was smiling.

"Oooh, yeah! Okay! Wanna say the words again?"

"While I would love nothing more than to say those words, Greta, you're the captain. The honor is yours too."

Greta's eyes gleamed like a finely polished jewel. She tapped her hands on the turret roof like an insane drummer, overcome with enthusiasm and emotion. In truth, she has never said the words before as she never felt ready to say them. It was Valarie and Ray, though their neverending encouragement and support, that she and her crew genuinely felt that they were on their way to becoming proper tankery athletes and not merely girls with a tank. Greta had her microphone pressed against her mouth and switched it on. Tears began to stroll down her cheeks as she prepared to say the words.

"Panzer Vor!"

The M6 Heavy Tank marched on and off the group went to continue practice. Valarie and Ray tutored the Dungeness tankery team for the remainder of the day, having fun with the little kids whose energy could not be rivaled. It's what they hoped for, showing them just how much fun the sport of tankery can be. All in all, it was a pretty good day.

A Sunday where everyone got what they wanted.