Chapter 4: Awakening a Beast
St. Gloriana Girls College Tankery "War Room"
Oxford, Oxfordshire, England, UK
0930 Hours
One week after their match with BC Freedom, a note from the ITA made it clear that the girls of St. Gloriana were now going to be pitted against an opponent that would be an early test of Olivia's creative abilities: Saunders Girl's Academy. The red-head's eyebrow twitched a bit as she read the letter from the ITA...however, it was not a twitch of annoyance. It was an indication- to those who knew her- of worry and dread. It was a sentiment, however, that was not shared by the rest of the commanders in the room. For some, they saw it as a great challenge after what was a relative cakewalk one week before. For others, they were simply confused as to why they were going to be sent right into the deep-end. Shirley looked to Olivia with a touch of concern, knowing that the pressure was getting to the red head.
"Look, I know it looks bad Olivi…" Shirley tried to state calmly "Why did they send us against those damn bloody Yanks so soon?! Why now?" Olivia cut her off with a pointed question of her own, "We were able to handle the French because of how badly coordinated and gullible they were. The damn Yanks are another matter entirely." The redhead added sharply, her face flushed a light red in color. The tension seemed to slightly bleed from the room, with many of the commanders happy that Olivia was sharing in their somewhat dire sentiments. The girl then took a deep breath, exhaling loudly as she let the tension slowly seep from her body. She knew that now wasn't the time for panic...it was now the time for action.
The first order of business would be to figure out what tanks they would be using against the plethora of Shermans that Saunders would throw at them. Many argued that playing to the strengths of the Shermans was to court disaster, and that they should make the Yanks fight on St. Gloriana's terms. Others wanted to force a set-piece fight in which they could force a decisive outcome, but was immediately shot down as an idea, as many saw its inherent flaws. One thing could indeed be agreed upon: no one could agree as to what course of action they would take.
But, something could be agreed upon: they would have to match the guns of Americans, and the dinky 6-pounders the Crusaders had couldn't hack it against tanks that were just as mobile and packed a much heftier punch. The commander of the Crusader team, however, spoke up: "What if we used them for recon? I mean, no matter how good they are, they can only move as fast as their tank allows, and we could have the Cromwells follow up as a sort of 'hunter-killer' teams." The comment fading away as the rest of them seemed to nod in agreement.
"We'll see if we can make that work, in the meantime," Olivia stated with a gesture at the probable line up Sherman variations they would face, seeing how easily some of them could make quick work of their heavy tanks, "We need to find a way how to counter the range of their guns…and have it match their mobility." "I may have just the tank and the group of ladies that can do it…" Shirley piped up suddenly, having a sudden epiphany, "And something the bloody Yanks will regret gifting to us." The auburn haired girl now coming to a sudden realization as to what she was referring to: their lone Sherman Firefly. As this realization hit her, a grin formed on her face. "Alright ladies…let's dig out Lady Bess."
Salisbury Plain Training Grounds Garage
near Imber, Wiltshire, England, UK
1100 Hours
Despite the initial surprise that the coach driver had gotten at her request, she'd gradually assented, driving her towards the team's garage to dig out a tank that had been neglected by many of the previous commanders during St. Gloriana's bad years. However, the tank had been kept in working order via the loving ministrations of the mechanics, who often could be heard swearing as they worked on the temperamental engine. But this time, the situation would be different, as Olivia and the girls had need of the Firefly's big gun…and its mobility. As the redhead gestured, the lead mechanic helped pull the tarpaulin off the tank with a magician's flourish. As the cloth fluttered to the ground, the girls finally got a glimpse of what many of the more knowledgeable students lovingly called 'Lady Bess': a Sherman Firefly, its 17-pounder gun menacingly pointing from the turret, still colored in the drab olive it was shipped here in.
"Alright Shirley…you've got your tank…" Olivia said pointedly, with a gesture that was dripping with mild sarcasm, "Now, where is that crew you said you had in mind?" The auburn haired girl's eyebrow raised in curiosity. The Belfast native then gestured and four other girls came out of the crowd around the tank. To say this seemed like a motley bunch to the rest of the girls wouldn't be too much of an understatement: A bookish looking girl with black hair and skin the color of burnished bronze, a brunette with fair skin and toned build, a dirty blonde haired girl who longingly eyed up the Firefly, and a smartly dressed brunette girl rounded out the quartet.
"Olivia, allow me to introduce these fine ladies who will be the permanent crew for Old Bess: our resident Hindi markswoman Lakshmi Dalavi," the girl in question bowing her head in respect, "St. Gloriana's Manx strong-woman and radio nerd Crera Homlyn," with the athletic woman giving the red-head a grin and a thumbs up, "the girl eyeing up the Firefly is our Cornish gearhead Kensa Bonython," with the girl in question giving a shy wave, "And rounding out our crew is our more level headed Welsh girl Beca Kenefick." Who, in turn, bowed her head in respect as well, with Siana holding her tongue despite the obvious jibe by Shirley. Olivia then looked to the Belfast transplant with a raised brow, letting an obvious question escape her, "Where did you find these four?" with the nominal Catholic shrugging before nonchalantly stating, "Out and around campus without any sort of direction…so I offered these fine ladies a chance to crew a tank that would be a great challenge for them to handle."
"And how do you propose to coordinate such a motley assortment of personalities and not have it become the tower of Babel?" The red-head quipped, "That's easy," Beca retorted, her semi-clipped tone full of humor, "Give them a common enemy…plus, a strong voice doesn't hurt either, especially when the engine is roaring. Besides, Crera isn't the only woman with some muscle on her on this crew," the Welsh tank commander smirking, "So if I have to apply a little bit of force to get them into shape, so be it." Olivia raised an eyebrow chuckling, "Well, I'm glad you do have a plan to get the whole thing to work out."
The red-head circled around the tank, looking at the four girls after she'd done a slow circuit of the beast of iron. "Alright ladies," the girl near bellowed, "Now that I've gotten a look at you and the vehicle you'll be taming for the rest of your time at the academy…I want to see how you actually perform under pressure." She then looked to Shirley and said, "Get the Tetrarchs and Grants ready. Let's see what that motley bunch is made out of."
Salisbury Plain Training Grounds
near Imber, Wiltshire, England, UK
13:00 Hours
Beca cast her binoculars over the Plain with vigilant eyes, smirking as she heard a few choice Manx curses from Crera about the cramped interior and the challenge the gun was to load. Meanwhile, Kensa studied the controls, the thrumming of the engine making her senses tingle. Lakshmi was also very much quiet as well, her eyes studying the world through the gunsights. "When are we going to see those bloody tanks already?" the burly Manx girl groused "I'm getting bored, and I'm going to get cramped in this bloody turret before we fire a shot." Lakshmi countered calmly, "Be patient…we will know it when Beca sees them." "Easy for you to say. You're not the one being squeezed in by a gun breach," the loader quipped before Beca hushed them with a look. Knowing that the Welsh girl could hit her back equally as hard, Crera went silent.
"Alright ladies, here come the buggies," the commander proclaimed, "Now…those tiny tanks expect us to play by their rules. But let us show them how this tank fights." The Welsh girl then tapped the driver with her foot. "Alright Kensa…get this beast moving to something resembling a high ground. Crera you're up next when we're in position." "Finally!" the loader bellowed, "I was beginning to think they were still sipping at tea." Her voice cut off as the Cornish driver brought the tank into gear with a grinding complaint out of transmission before she coaxed it forward, the girls bouncing as they got into the highest ground they could find on the plain. "Crera, you're up!" Beca yelled over the engine as the Manx loader slammed a round into the gun, the breach slamming home. "Lakshmi, range targets and fire when ordered," the girl commanded, the first generation immigrant Hindi gunner calmly adjusting the Firefly's aim. "Ready, Beca," the girl calmly remarked, as if she were having nothing more than a cup of tea.
Meanwhile, the Tetrarchs prowled about the field like sharks, the Grants trundling behind them with deliberate slowness. Soon, the first Tetrarch trundled into view, speeding around like a foxhound on a scent. "Tetrarch to our hull front, 650 metres," the Hindi calmly proclaimed, "Awaiting your command." As soon as the Welsh girl's eyes locked onto the tank, she then bellowed the fateful order in thickly accented Hindi: "Faayar." She half-bellowed as the 17 pounder gun roared to life, fire flaring from its muzzle as a massive dust cloud formed after the Hindi pressed the firing stud. The shell rocketed from the gun and struck home, sending the small tank tumbling and knocking it out of the fight. "Kensa, punch it! If they don't know where we are, they sure do now!" The girl yelled as Crera got the gun ready to fire the next shell. With silent glee, the Cornish driver put the tank into gear and got the Firefly out of there as the Grant's sponson mounted 75's replied in kind.
Now bellowing exhaust, Kensa brought the Firefly into another optimal position, with Lakshmi furiously aiming the gun as fast as she could. Through the periscopes, she could see the other scouts were rolling towards them, the little tanks firing furiously at the much bigger Sherman. "I've got the range," the girl stated, her thick accent making her own words as hard to understand as when Olivia spoke, "And please just use English around me…because Hindi does not suit your accent at all." A statement which made Crera snort out a particularly amused bit of laughter. "Shell's loaded," the Manx girl stated with a grunt,"Let 'em have it!" the ending of the exclamation being drowned out by the booming of the Firefly's main gun, sending yet another Tetrarch wheeling out of the fight. The gun boomed a third time, and the last Tetrarch was sent flying.
"Bloody fine shooting against the little ones," Beca quipped as she peered out from her binoculars, "Because now we get to hunt some actual game worth the ammunition." A sentiment which earned a couple of nods from the ladies manning the Firefly's big gun. Without a word, Kensa brough the tank into gear again, the long-barreled Sherman trundling towards its new position with the confidence of a proud hunting dog. A confidence that was broken up by the 75mm shells of the Grants straddling them like a warship. The loud thud-boom of shell explosions kept Beca's attention towards the Grants, letting out an unbroken stream of Welsh invective as she tried to get a bearing on them, the three other girls remarking that this was the longest length they'd heard the girl swear.
"Easy there boss…" Kensa piped up, becoming the rare voice of reason, "Let's get this lady turned around and see what we can do about them." Her tone surprisingly level in such a high stress situation. Then again, it wasn't too surprising, given that she had a 30+ ton tank to drive. Not long after Kensa got them into a position to fight back did Beca pop her head from the hatch, scanning the horizon feverishly for the muzzle flashes of the two Grants. As the turret got into position, the controlled chaos of loading and prepping the engineering nightmare began to reassert itself in what seemed like slow motion.
"Round in the breach," Crera bellowed over the din of the engine, Lakshmi barely giving a sage nod, her eyes were seemingly glued to the gunsight as she sought to gain a bearing on the tanks now bearing down on the Firefly. "Fire when ready," Beca replied back, "Because I'm sick of these blasted idiots taking ranging shots at us with impunity." "Aye ma'am," Lakshmi answered, having now established the range on the Grants taking shots at them.
It was at this moment that a reminder from history smacked into the first Grant tank with enthusiasm as a 17 pounder shell tore the 75mm gun to ribbons, with a second smacking into its transmission and putting it out of the fight. The second was dispatched in the same fashion, with a short radio call reaching Beca's ears not long afterward, "Well done, ladies," she stated with evident praise, "You performed better than either Shirley or I expected. Head back to the garage…we have a meeting with the Yanks to prepare for, and I'd rather not waste any time." The abrupt cutting off of the message was all the signal Beca needed to grin and turn to the rest of the crew.
"Good work everyone," the Welsh brunette stated, unable to keep the enthusiasm for her voice, "The commander and her shadow were quite happy with our performance…but we know we can do better." Pausing only to enthusiastically order Kensa to drive them back to the garage, the Cornish driver taking them past the wreckage of their rampage as they slowly mentally prepared themselves for the real fight to come, the Firefly's engine seeming to rumble happily along as they made their way back. At last the girls of St. Gloriana had something that many a Yank would term as 'An Ace up their Sleeve'…and one that Olivia planned to use to full effect in the battle to come