"Press on, lad!"
Leftenant Peters took a deep breath and ordered his driver forward. The view through the Chimera's grimy optics barely allowed for orientation. Rapid flashes dazzled his eyes, leaving puffs of smoke behind. Raindrops had leaked into the lens block, further distorting the view. It was like his Salamander Scout "tank" was driving through a waterfall. The shudder of the powerful artillery bursts seemed to shake the entire vehicle as it lurched across the terrain. The armor that Peters felt so safe in now felt very thin. The tracks felt too weak, too slow, and the autocannon at the top of the vehicle felt far too weak. Sometimes, debris would strike the vehicle, loudly rattling off of the armor in stark contrast to the constant sound of rain hitting the vehicle's roof. Faintly audible through his headset and over the whine of the engine, he could almost feel the powerful device pulling and straining to move the heavy tracks through the muddy trail.
"Sir, we are very close to the barrage." His driver warned.
Peters knew they were too close, but the importance of this battle and its potential fame had not been lost on him. He was starkly determined to outperform the other reconnaissance platoon leaders in the battalion, if not the entire 2nd Army Group.
"Keep moving, we aren't cowards" Peters commanded. "Head straight through the smoke." The driver obeyed, but Peters knew his unwillingness. The boy was too cautious, too cowardly. For a moment, he took his eyes away from the viewport and checked on his gunner. Belinsky was all right, he was no coward, his eyes fixed onto his own viewport.
Three humans in a rolling steel box. The crew was the bare minimum. Missing a loader, a dismounting scout team, and other support roles, he could barely man the essential positions in each of his three vehicles.
It was impossible to judge the exact location of his vehicle now. If the situation was normal, his second vehicle would be behind him, and Junior Leftenant Martin in an overwatch position. As if you could 'watch' any more than a couple meters in this hellish deluge.
He could feel the incline in the vehicle, they were dropping into a valley. Artillery rounds struck immediately to the front.
"Keep going." Peters said. "We stay on path as long as the smoke screen holds. Faster, come on private!." He sensed they were now very close to the enemy.
"Sir, we're catching up with the barrage. We're too close."
"We're right in it, keep going, push right through."
"Sir…" It was Belinsky, his gunner. The boys face was drained of color and milky.
"It's all right, lad." Peters told him. "Just scan for hostiles. If we wait and try to sneak through, they'll get us for sure."
A large object thumped against the vehicle, hard enough that it jolted, as if its machine spirit was wincing in pain.
"Come on, lad, faster." Peters shouted to the driver. "Just stay on the road and go as fast as you can!"
"I can't see the road sir, I lost it!"
"Just *go*!" Peters held his shaking arm to his chest to try and abate it, and he felt fear rising in his belly and chest, unleashed by the impact of whatever had hit them. In the thick smoke, the lights of the artillery impacts seemed demonic, alive with hatred.
"More to the left, the left!... Target sighted!" Peters screamed, but the black shape which had appeared seemingly from nowhere was lifeless, its steel hull had suffered a direct hit. The driver swerved away from the hulk. Peters had not seen the shattered vehicle until they had nearly hit it. He wondered, and not for the first time, if he had done something incredibly foolhardy.
"Forge 1, this is Forge 3." Junior Leftenant Martin's voice crackled over the vox.
"Forge 3 this is Forge 1." Peters repeated, calming himself. "We read you, go ahead 3."
"I can't any sign of Forge 2, my situation is as follows: Moving slow and with the barrage. Can't see a karking thing. Lost visual of you twenty minutes ago."
"This is Forge 1. Continue to move on primary route and penetrate as deep into enemy territory as possible. Keep an eye out for 2, he may be stuck out there, over."
His other vehicle may be mired in the mud or broken down. But, it was more likely they had all given their lives. Peters thought he would feel more emotion, but his thoughts quickly turned to the implications the loss had for him and his remaining two vehicles.
"Driver, trail to the right, get onto that one."
The vehicle moved sharply now, and more water had seeped into Peters' lens. "Yep, that's the one, keep it slow and take the trail."
Suddenly, they emerged. Black vehicle shapes, roughly 40 meters ahead, and in the trees. Peters took control of the turret and aimed right at the vehicles.
"Right there, Fire. Belinsky, FIRE!" He nearly yelled. Belinsky jumped a bit, and began firing the autocannon.
"To the right."
"I have him, sir, firing now."
"Driver, don't stop, go!" Peters yelled over the autocannon. The Salamander Scout pulled through into a small clearing in the forest where two centaur command vehicles stood positioned together. A third Centuar that had been hidden began to move for the trail.
"These are the traitors, Belinsky, the runner, hit the runner!"
The autocannon of the Scout tank began to spit fire into the lightly armed traitor transport. It stopped and began smoking.
"Next target, to the front."
The turret swung around, as now what used to be their comrades in arms began running from their command vehicles to form a perimeter. The smoking Centuar exploded with a loud bang, its engine going up in flames. In the flash of light, the image of what was once his brothers in arms twisted his face into an expression of disgust.
Peters could see their armor was… changed. It was spiked and blackened, as if the armor itself had become evil. They fired at him with small arms, and some even charged right at the vehicle with knives and grenades like madmen, yelling something inaudible over the noise. The heavy stubber on board the vehicle took care of them.
Peters began turning the turret to the engine block of the leftmost vehicle. He turned his head to check on Belinsky.
He neither saw or heard the round that killed him. It tore into the Salamander's hull from the left and ripped off his lower legs. The round then exploded, blowing what was left of him into the top of the turret as the vehicle burned up.