Chapter 14- But the crown wavers

25th April - Outside of Orange Pekoes office, 15:15

"What? What do you mean a leadership challenge?" Sarah said completely boggled, trying her best to keep up with Orange Pekoe.

Orange stopped waiting for her vice-commander to catch up.

"If enough tank commanders in the A team send me letters of no confidence, it's in the St Gloriana code of ethics for command, of any school activity, to hold a vote of whether to replace the leader. In this case, me," she said straight and to the point with not a hint of an emotion.

"How many letters did you get?"

"Five."

Sarah shook her head in shock. "No, no, you must be miss counting."

"This is only between me and you," Orange Pekoe said as she quickly scanned the hallway. "Only you and Rosehip haven't. And myself, of course."

"Even? Ruk..."

Orange Pekoe just nodded.

"That backstabbing little..."

"Listen don't get angry, please remain calm and listen. All the A team's crew will be voting, so things are not over just yet. Please keep yourself composed, and things will be fine,"

"Has anyone lost the vote before?" Sarah asked.

"In Sensha-do, never. But it has happened with other clubs. But Miss English Breakfast, what I need is your support. Can you guarantee that for me?"

Sarah looked to her feet not wanting to make contact with Orange Pekoe's blue eyes. They reminded her too much of Darjeeling's and she couldn't be emotional, she needed to be strong and decisive. "Yes, you have my support."

"Good. And you have mine, vice commander." Orange Pekoe turned and moved off heading in the direction of the tea room where the voting would take place.

25th April - Tea room, 18:45

The black box was emptied out onto the table by a St Gloriana student from the student council to be impartial as she counted the votes. Every member of the A team was squeezed into the room. Orange Pekoe sat at the head of the table with Sarah standing behind her; her bad leg occasionally begging to her to sit down but seeing the traitor of Rukuriri with the other Sensha-do members and not by Orange Pekoe's side completely took her mind off the pain in her knee.

Time ticked away as the girl unfolded every ballot and made a small mark on her notepad. The processes repeated on and on till finally she picked up the last piece of paper and made one final note.

"The motion of no confidence has been counted," the girl proclaimed to the room. "The 'ayes' are fifteen. The 'nays' are sixteen. So the 'nays' have it." The room filled with volume as the tankers talked amongst themselves what had just happened. Orange Pekoe gave a nod to the vote counter and she moved her way out of the compact room.

Sarah just closed her eyes and just breathed. It had been close. A one vote swing; it should never of been this close.

Orange Pekoe, after a moment, stood from her chair and the room soon rescinded into silence.

"Thank you for those who voted for me. I owe you my gratitude. For those who didn't I wish to extend a hand. I am still young and am known to make mistakes and I accept that. I bear all the responsibilities for any failure we have as a team..."

But the sound of shoes stopped her speech short, as girls made their way towards the exit of the tea room. Before Orange Pekoe could formulate a sentence Rukuriri was at the head of a line exiting the tearoom. All that was left was 16 rather bemused girls.

29th April – Darjeeling's Apartment, 18:17

Wearing a vest top and her panties only, Sarah was lying on a rug in Darjeeling's apartment while Darjeeling sat at the table, studying. Sarah was trying to do the physiotherapy exercises that she had been given. She was laying on her back, slowly sliding her left foot along the floor up towards her backside so her knee was completely bent, then straightening her leg flat to the floor again. Her knee and lower leg ached as she did this, but it was apparently necessary to aid her recovery. Her injured arm, now mercifully cast-free, was still supported by a sling.

"This sucks," Sarah moaned and sounding a little breathless, as the many take aways and the lack of exercise was slowly now being to show its effects.

"Success is the sum of small efforts, repeated day in and day out," Darjeeling quoted.

"Whatever," Sarah mumbled. The truth was she was waiting for the details and data about her upcoming match with the B Team, which Orange Pekoe had promised Sarah could be the commander for in order to improve her 'morale and confidence'. As the matches for the spring tournament were coming to an end soon, there wouldn't be any harm in getting some more practice.

There was a ring on the doorbell.

"That might be for me… OW!" Sarah exploded as she tried to get up too quickly.

"Put your knee brace and that boot thing on before you move!" Darjeeling scolded. "I'll see who it is," she said, gracefully rising from her chair.

Before Sarah could protest Darjeeling was at the door and Sarah could hear Rosehip's voice. Darjeeling returned almost immediately with a small envelope in her hand.

"For you – by Rosehip Express Mail!" she joked.

Sarah held out her hand for the packet from the floor as if she was a submarine raising it's periscope but Darjeeling interjected. "Brace and boot first!" she said firmly.

"Aw but they're hot and heavy… I'm only going to be sitting…"

"Aup!" Darjeeling made a high pitched squeak holding the letter up and away from Sarah. The meaning was obvious, and Sarah reluctantly slid over to one side to where the looming hard plastic laid strewn on the floor, and she eased her bad leg into the bulky medical appliances.

"Happy?!" she said to Darjeeling with a mock pout on her lips.

"Over the moon!" Darjeeling answered, with eyes-closed breeziness. "Here you go, my little teacup!"

Sarah sat down opposite Darjeeling at the table and hastily opened the envelope to find a small memory stick, which she immediately plugged into her laptop.

"OK… OK…" she said, partly for Darjeeling's benefit and partly to herself. "Orange Pekoe said it's a composite match; our allies are Shamrock School for Girls. Shamrock?! Never heard of them… ah… here we are…" Sarah clicked on some more files.

"Shamrock School is an Irish-themed… Irish!?" she said with surprise. Sarah was aware that many schools had copied other national identities, but Ireland seemed a strange choice to her.

"Oh lovely!" Darjeeling said. "The Emerald Isle! William Yeats, James Joyce, Oscar Wilde; so many good quotes!" Sarah chuckled to herself rather light heartedly. It was typical of Darjeeling to know this sort of information even though she probably couldn't point to Ireland on a map. She scrolled through some of the information. Since Shamrock was a small school and not a major Sensha-do player, it didn't look like any of the information had been gained from actual reconnaissance of the school; indeed most of it had probably been gleaned from the internet by some minion in GI6. Still, it was useful to have it all collated in one place.

"So…" Sarah was trying to make notes on a pad of paper using her left hand, but her handwriting with that arm wasn't great. "… Shamrock are known to field only three tanks. Two are light tanks, believed to be Landswerk L-60s… hmm… I must look up what one of those is. The other is currently only identified as a medium tank of the inter-war or early war period. Hmm…. I wonder what that could be," she mused.

She read on. "In addition, to make an equal split in the team, we will be lending them one of our heavy tanks. This will give Shamrock much needed experience of crewing a heavy tank and will foster good… blah blah… I see. We're lending them a Churchill Mk III for the match. Oh well, I hope they're careful with it."

Sarah closed that file and opened another. "And our opponent is… Tarczay High Sch… TARCZAY?!" she yelled. Darjeeling looked up from her revision with a raised eyebrow.

"Those are the bitches who gave me a black eye!" Sarah raged. She grabbed her notebook and wrote HUNGARIAN BITCHES! in bold letters, underlining it a couple of times good measure. Darjeeling looked a little confused by this.

"You know, at that 'Sensha-do Celebration Day' thing we went to that Erika organised to show the safety of the sport, ironically before that week-long battle?" Sarah reminded her girlfriend.

"Oh that! All I can remember was me being ill the day after with a stinking headache. It doesn't help when one is nearly done recovering from an Orange Pekoe massage," Darjeeling answered. She glanced over to Sarah and then down to her own revision notes. "Don't ever date a loader; their fingers are rather aggressive and shoulder rubs are very much off the menu, and perhaps along with other more sensitive areas," Darjeeling said, putting it lightly.

Sarah, not really wanting to go in depth about Orange Pekoe's fingers, just focused on the screen of her laptop looking at the Tarczay emblem with its shield covered by an imposing squawking turul bird holding a large fork in its claws.

"This strategy has to be the best; I've got to win this match!" she said with determination.

"Revenge is a dish best served cold," Darjeeling replied, she said looking over to Sarah and then to the clock. She made her way over to Sarah who was making note after note looking more like mad incoherent scribbles than anything else.

"Dinner should be here soon, I hope you're hungry. I got a couple extra naan breads this time," Darjeeling said.

"I shouldn't really be eating as much Darj, you know I shouldn't," Sarah mumbled.

"Oh my dear, there's nothing wrong with a few extra pounds," Darjeeling said as she moved behind Sarah and slowly lowered her hand. "Plus your bum is a lot more plump." She ended with a squeeze to the area in question, with a high pitch squeak coming back from Sarah.

2nd May - St Gloriana B Team tank sheds, 09:11

Sarah sat on top of the bow hatch of her Challenger as it slowly clanked its way across to the B Team tank sheds. With her arm and leg still giving her trouble, she didn't want to be getting in and out of the tight confines of it more than she had to.

She was curious to go back to the B Team sheds as it was where she had begun her Sensha-do experience with St. Gloriana. It felt odd, and a little unnerving to think that she was coming back as the vice-commander of the A Team!

The B Team at St Gloriana had two factions, and therefore two corresponding styles of members. Some, like she herself had been, were keen Sensha-do players who were waiting for their place on the A Team. Many of these were already accepted into the prestigious Tea Garden and therefore had their own tea names. That had been the case with her, and that upstart Green Gunpowder, and with Maesil, who was currently driving her Challenger for her. Maesil was a tall, quiet girl with a lop-sided shock of deep purple hair. She seemed reasonably competent, however, which was something.

The other half of the B Team were typically girls who participated in Sensha-do as a Sunday afternoon sport but had no ambition to take things further and would never graduate to the A Team. They were known by their own name, or by a silly nickname, usually poking gentle fun at the tea names of the Tea Garden members. Sarah remembered her old colleagues 'Spoon' and 'Sugarlump' who were still B Team members.

As the tank rounded a corner the B Team sheds came into view. There were already many girls gathered outside. Most were in St. Gloriana red, but it wasn't hard to spot her allies for this match as there were several girls in dark green jackets and bright green skirts standing around. These must be from Shamrock School for Girls!

Two tanks were parked outside; a Churchill Mk III and an A10 Cruiser. The latter had its hatches open and a variety of equipment strewn all around it.

The Challenger clanked to a halt with a lot of eyes turned towards it. Sarah did her best to ease herself to the ground gracefully but it ended up being much more of a slither and a stumble than she had wanted. Nonetheless, she acted as if she had meant to get off her tank like that and advanced towards some of the redcoats with her uneven waddle. She noticed that the largest gathering of girls seemed to be clustered around four of the green-jacketed Shamrock girls who were in line abreast and appeared to be performing some sort of dance. As she heard the rapid click of tap-shoes on the asphalt, Sarah realised they were performing traditional Irish dancing to the wonder and delight of the St. Gloriana girls.

A blonde girl at once came forward. She was maybe just below average height, with shoulder length blonde hair parted in the middle. She was wearing the standard St. Gloriana red tank jacket but had one of her buttons undone at chest level. It was easy to see why; this girl was particularly well endowed.

"Miss English Breakfast?" the busty blonde asked, somewhat needlessly. "I'm Teapot, pleased to meet you!" She offered Sarah her hand.

Inwardly raising an eyebrow at Teapot's nickname and now knowing the depth of her task of having the lackadaisical, go lucky B team, things were not going to be easy. But Sarah smiled politely at her and put her left hand forward.

"Oh, of course, please forgive me!" Teapot said, swapping hands to shake Sarah's left hand. "I am one of the tank commanders and have been asked to make sure you feel welcome. Let me introduce you to Shannon."

She beckoned and a small but also well-endowed girl with red hair came forward. She was wearing what was presumably the Shamrock Sensha-do uniform, which looked a bit like a cheap version of St. Gloriana's but in dark green. She also had a large beret-like hat on her head, complete with an emerald green feather hackle. Her face was round and pleasant with bright beaming eyes.

"Miss English Biscuit?! It's so wonderful to meet a great commander like you!" the girl cheered. Sarah wasn't sure what this reputation was being based on but she wasn't going to object. She did have to correct her name, however. "Breakfast, not Biscuit" she said to her new companion.

Tippy-tappy-tippy-tappy-tippy-tappy-tap went the shoes of the four dancing girls. That was starting to get annoying now.

"Oh, sorry Miss Breakfast!" the Shamrock commander piped. "Oh, I like that more. Breakfast sounds better than Biscuit, of course! Biscuit would be a bad name anyway as they crumble and you don't want a commander that crumbles under pressure, do you?" she wittered. As she made her unfunny joke she playfully punched Sarah on her arm. Unfortunately for Sarah, it was on her bad arm.

"Ow! Hey, be careful!" Sarah protested.

"Oh, sorry Miss Breakfast, a thousand pardons; please forgive me. I will introduce you to the other Shamrock commanders," the redhead went on at the speed of an express train. She turned to wave some of her team over to join them.

"This is my vice-commander, Clare," Shannon said. Clare was a tall, slender brunette who bowed to Sarah as she was introduced. "She normally commands one of our L-60s, but she'll be in charge of the borrowed tank today," Shannon explained as Sarah tried her best to keep up with Shannon's verbal speed.

"Our other L-60 is commanded by Erne here." Shannon indicated a skinny, feisty-looking redhead.

"What the hell happened to you?" Erne asked Sarah in a not too friendly manner.

"An accident," Sarah said with a slight scowl, not liking how the conversation with Erne had started.

"It was probably an amazing tank action that resulted in her winning a match, or something like that, wasn't it Miss Breakfast?!" Shannon said. "So don't be so rude!" she scolded Erne.

"Our other L-60 will today be commanded by Finn…" Shannon turned to face the four dancing girls, who were still at it. "Finn? Finn! FINN! Will you knock that off and come over here!?" Shannon bellowed. For a small girl she could certainly make a lot of noise.

Finn came over with her shoes clacking noisily on the tarmac. She was dressed similarly to the other Shamrock commanders but whereas they had bare legs and boots like St. Gloriana wore, Finn had thick black tights, very like the regular St. Gloriana school uniform, and chunky black tap shoes on her feet. She was above average height with a mop of black hair with red streaks dyed into it. She came and stood next to Erne and Sarah got the impression that the two were friends.

"It's nice to meet you all and I look forward to working with you," Sarah said by way of an introduction. "Now, we face Tarczay High School in three days, and let me tell you this is a match I want to WIN!" Sarah did not say what her reasons for wanting victory so badly were. Sarah looked about her but couldn't see any tanks other than the two from St Gloriana. "So, Shannon, um… where are your tanks?" she asked hesitantly.

"Coming soon!" the redhead said airily, as if lack of tanks wasn't a problem at this stage.

Clare spoke up. "They are just completing their refuelling and should be here within the next five minutes," she explained. Sarah had only met Clare for a few moments but she already was beginning to think that if she needed to get a sensible answer out of Shamrock then this was the best person to go to.

Clare had only just finished speaking when a rumble and clatter of tracks and engines could be heard, along with some sort of high pitched noise that Sarah couldn't quite place. Most eyes turned towards the direction of the sound and very shortly three tanks in line astern formation nosed their way round one of the far hangers and started to bear down on the B Team shed.

Most of the Shamrock girls cheered while the St. Gloriana ones just looked on. The small column was led by a grey light tank with an identical one following it. These were the Swedish-made L-60s that Sarah had read about. They were both adorned with bright green shamrock symbols and the lead one had a green-clad figure sitting on the turret. This at least answered the mystery of that extra noise; the girl was playing a violin, although the exact tune couldn't really be distinguished over the noise of the engines.

The final tank of the procession was dark green in colour and had to be one of the ugliest tanks that Sarah had ever seen. This must be the medium tank that GI6 had been unable to provide any information about. It looked British in design and Sarah dredged her memory to be able to identify it.

"That's a… a… Vickers… mark two" she concluded.

Shannon was grinning while shaking her head. "A mark D! It's an improved version of the mark C!" she said proudly, as if this made all the difference in the world. "It has a more powerful engine than the mark C. It's a water cooled, 6-cylinder petrol engine; one hundred and seventy horsepower! And it has a six pounder gun!"

Sarah gave Shannon a sideways glance but Shannon was too enraptured about the Vickers Mk D to notice. As far as Sarah was concerned, this slab-sided, underpowered monstrosity was nothing to be proud of.

"Right!" Sarah said to restore some sort of order to the group. "We have three whole days to train for this, so let's make a start right now. So, ladies from Shamrock, first of all I just want to see how you perform, so a force of two Cruiser IIs and my Challenger will go up against your force. We can't afford to have tanks out of action awaiting repairs, so we will be using paint rounds to simulate actual match conditions. I therefore expect the tank wash station to get a lot of use over the next few days!"

"Can we use the Churchill?" Shannon asked rather optimistically.

"Not for this first practice," Sarah decided. "I think my Churchill crew will show your girls how to operate the Churchill today just so they get the hang of that big lump. As Darjeeling would say, let's not run before we can walk."

Erne looked down to Sarah's boot. "Yeah... no running yet," she quipped from the crowd.

Sarah ignored that comment and turned and pointed to the green field with the odd tree and small artificial stream of Battlefield Six beside the garages.

"Maesil, could I have my satchel please?" Sarah asked. Her driver obligingly passed it down to her. Sarah fished inside it with her left hand and pulled out a bulky map which she laid out on the front hull of the Challenger, covering nearly most of the vehicle front with map. The stream covered the whole of the centre of the map which also showed little hills dotted around, with very few areas covered in trees and bushes.

"This will be a straightforward annihilation match of three on three, with the emphasis being on manoeuvrability and gunnery. I'll start over there in D8 and you at A2 " Sarah pointed to the map. "Sound good?"

Shannon looked at the map, then up at the field and then down again to the map and scratched her head. "Where exactly? This map is rather ... well, confusing, compared to the live maps the JSF use on the TV," she said.

Sarah looked over to Shannon and took a quick breath just to calm herself, hoping that anyone would think it was as a result of her injuries and not at the ridiculousness of that statement. She made a mental note to include map reading in the training.

"See that tree over there? You can start there. Good luck Shannon, the match will start at... " Sarah took out her phone to check the time which was 09:34. "...10:30 hours. You have until 10:15 to come up with your strategy and get your tanks fully armed. Since we're hosting your stay here, we will supply all the ammunition free of charge. Ammunition is kept in that building over there." Sarah pointed out a low, squat, brick building. "You can send your gunners and loaders along with your designated safety officer to begin drawing what you need."

Shannon was looking enthusiastic but as if she might be struggling to take in all the information Sarah was giving her. "Designated safety…" she said slowly, trying to make notes in a small pocket book. "Loaders…"

"Paint rounds only remember!" Sarah said. She looked at their respective uniforms. "Er… do you want to take the green ones? We'll be red."

Shannon giggled and nodded her ascent. She recapped her notes. "So… 10:15. Match 10:30. Be at… that tree. Ammunition. Green. Safety. And… er…"

"A strategy," Sarah prompted.

"Oh yeah!" Shannon said while Sarah quietly despaired internally.

"You and your commanders can use that room there, if you wish," Sarah offered. "Please instruct your Churchill crew to report to Miss Teapot over there so that can begin their familiarisation training."

"Woo! Churchill!" Shannon yelled, which Sarah took for compliance. Leaving to Shannon to organise her own team, Sarah hobbled off to round up the Cruiser crews and explain her plan to them. As she talked she thought to herself, she just couldn't believe her luck. She thought the B team would be her biggest worry, but this Shamrock team, well... in Shannon's own words, took the biscuit.