This is not an April Fool's Joke.
Haiko gasped, and opened his eyes. Above him was a sky of green trees that stood above him like angels of death.
He tried to sit up, but it seemed like he was stuck in something. He lost energy and fell back into the substance. He then glanced to his right to see that he was stuck in mud.
He turned his head and stared back up at the canopies before trying to stand again. This time, he was able to sit up and he saw that he was at the edge of a small marsh. Its waters tapped lightly against his ankles.
He heard a quack and looked to his left to see Hiro paddling in the waters.
"Hiro, how did you get out of my pocket?" Haiko asked in surprise.
In response, the turtle duck swam over and jumped on Haiko's lap. He nuzzled up against Haiko's chest in a very cute way.
"Yeah, I think we have to get out of here too," Haiko placed his hands in the mud, expecting to be able to push himself out. Instead, they sank half a foot in.
Haiko grunted as he ripped them out of the thick mud. Next, he tried to use his leg muscles to force himself up. This worked and he found himself standing in the quickly darkening marsh.
The sun was setting, creating a problem of shelter for the two. Haiko didn't know how cold it could get in the swamp and he frankly didn't want to find out. Shelter should be their utmost importance.
He took one step, one singular step, and his boot sank halfway into mud. Haiko sighed in annoyance before taking another step. A similar thing occurred with his other boot sinking into mud.
This would be a long walk.
Sokka and Suki woke up next to each other in a pile of dead leaves. It was a miracle that they did land in these leaves because the fall would have killed them right then and there. But the spirits gazed favorably down upon them.
"Well this is convenient," Suki said with a smile.
"It actually is," Sokka replied. He nuzzled closer to Suki.
"Maybe we should make good use of this time we have in private. I'm sure Toph will be able to find us eventually."
"I was just coming to that thought."
The two began to lean closer and closer…
Stupid mud, stupid swamp, stupid water Haiko thought as he trudged through the marshes. It was times like these where he seriously began to rethink his life choices.
Why was he in this swamp? Why was he alone? Why did he have such a cute turtle duck?
"Hiro, what do you think we should do?" Haiko asked his pet. In reply, Hiro looked at his master with big wide eyes.
"Well you're helpful," Haiko muttered as he turned away and gazed about. It was getting darker and darker and he still had no clue where he was. The swamp felt like an endless maze!
Hiro suddenly leapt out of his pocket and began to trot along the muddy ground. "Hiro! Where are you going!" Haiko screamed, trying to rush after but couldn't because of his weight on the mud.
He followed Hiro's tracks as they went between trees, under trees, and over trees. It was Haiko's luck that prevented Hiro from going through water and Haiko losing him forever.
Finally Haiko caught up to his turtle duck who was staring out at the water. Haiko picked Hiro up and asked, "What did you think you were doing there?"
However, Hiro remained silent and continued to stare ahead. Haiko looked up and his mouth fell open in shock.
At the other side of the marsh was a small cabin. Its front porch hung at a sideways angle and its roof was missing some vital pieces. But it was a cabin.
"You sly and smart duck!" Haiko gave Hiro a small hug. "But how do we get over there?" He wondered aloud.
He inspected the area and realized that there was a string of tree roots that would lead the two to the cabin.
Haiko climbed up onto these roots which were covered in moss and began to walk carefully towards the cabin. One wrong slip and he would tumble into the murky waters below.
But he made it over without a hitch to his own amazement. He thanked every spirit, every god he knew for this providence as he entered the rickety shack.
In one corner was a bed of straw and the other a table with some tree branches. That was all there was to it. It was really nothing special but for Haiko's immediate needs, it was fulfilled.
He sat on the straw and stared through one of the broken pieces of the roof. Above, he could see the night sky.
Once again, he offered up prayers for this providence and then laid down in the straw bed and tried to get some shut eye.
August 11, 1940
The Swamp
The next morning, Haiko woke up to a wisp standing before him. "What the!" He cried out, scrambling backwards to the edge of the bed until he was against the wall.
In front of him, was a silvery image. It was Pierre, clutching a bloody hole in his stomach looking the same as he did when he died.
"What the hell are you?!" He yelled at the image, not believing his own eyes. He remembered Aang mentioning the Swamp being a hub of spiritual energy. Could this really be the spirit of Pierre or was it an illusion of his mind?
As if in response to the question, the wisp moved to the left and inspected the table. Haiko decided to place his feet down on the floor, the instant he did so there were loud creaks. He noted how the wisp made no loud creaks in the floorboards.
"Interesting place you got here," the wisp of Pierre whispered. Haiko had been cautiously moving to the door before Pierre had said this but he turned when he did.
"It's nothing permanent." Haiko replied, edging towards the porch.
Pierre turned to Haiko, and he saw the lifelessness in those dead eyes. "I know, I know all."
"What the hell even is this. A figment of my mind or are you really here Pierre. Aang said that this was a hotspot of spiritual energy."
If ghosts could shrug, Pierre would do so. "Your guess is as good as mine Haiko. For a moment I was floating and the next I'm here, standing before you in a blaze of glory."
Pierre floated towards Haiko and Haiko gasped when he went right through him.
"Walk with me," said Pierre, and Haiko did so with caution.
The two walked in silence for a bit, Pierre floating while Haiko trudged until Pierre told Haiko, "I like the new pet, a turtle-duck hybrid thing."
"Thanks, I guess."
Haiko remained quiet, making no noise as Pierre floated to his right. The only sound was the sponginess of boots sinking in mud.
"Why are you here Pierre?" Haiko asked, his voice drawling out with a hint of sadness in it.
"That Haiko, I don't know. What did Aang say about the spirits that usually appear? Did they have to do with people you miss most? Or is it the person you want to see? Or is it the decision of the spirit?"
"I'm not sure."
"Well there clearly has to be some reason for my being here. It's not like spirits can just appear anywhere. There has to be some force that causes them to be brought back into the material world."
"I'm still not even sure that I'm just imagining you or are you actually floating in front of me. Are you just a figment of my mind to ease my loneliness? I won't fall for that!"
Pierre's ghostly form raised his hands. "I'm not even sure about that. This could just be a dream for all I know. But what I do know is that I'm here and there's a reason for me being here."
Haiko firmly planted his feet in the ground and snarled at Pierre. "Do you have any idea what you did to me!" He yelled.
Pierre shook his head. "Enlighten my poor soul," he falsely lamented.
"You, you, caused all this pain and suffering all because you had to go and die back in France. Do you have any idea how I felt! I liked you Pierre and I felt like a piece of my heart got ripped off. But I had to forge ahead and forget about everything that happened in the hells that were Lyon and the Portal. I'd be lying if I said I was completely over you. Seeing you only opens up the stupid wound that you created!"
Pierre nodded with the utmost silence. He cautiously floated a bit closer to Haiko and placed one of his wispy hands on one of Haiko's shoulders.
"I think I understand now." He gazed at the tall trees that surrounded them.
"Whether it is a dream or if it isn't, I understand. This place creates the force that makes the veil between spirit and material weaker. And I think I understand why I'm here."
Haiko sniffed and nodded. He gazed at the trees and listened to the sounds of nature, thinking back to his homeland. "What's that?"
"This place is its own special gem, Haiko. I know you probably hate it but don't, it's a beautiful place," Pierre said, ignoring the question. His eyes gazed lifelessly at the beauty surrounding them. "Because once you're off the materialistic world, you begin to forget the colors of home. You miss the scenic views that one would usually ignore so I beg you to not ignore this swamp around you."
"Answer the stupid question Pierre. Why are you here?"
"What I said has both a material and philosophical meaning. The dead have much time to mull over their thoughts and come to conclusions on the intricacies of what we call life. The advice I gave has both a literal and more personal meaning."
"I still don't understand."
"You should take my advice for what I said but you should look for the deeper meaning for your suffering. What you have done is ignore your suffering and let it bubble and bubble until it has become like plaster over your heart. It is like how you are avoiding the beauty of the swamp, you are avoiding the beauty in suffering."
"You are only a figment of my imagination. You can't be real! You are insane and are not the Pierre I used to know!" Haiko pointed an accusing finger at Pierre who raised his hands in surrender.
"I only speak from my past experience. I lost friends at Lyon like Gustav, and I had to learn to deal with that grief. For me it was optimism and my joking demeanor but for others it would be different. For you, that is what you have to find out. Society thinks that peoples' grief shrinks over time but in reality it is much different. People learn to grow around the grief but it still remains like a dark shadow. You have to learn to overcome your grief, Haiko, it is the only way."
Haiko remained silent for a minute as they continued walking. The silence was calming to the tense exterior that Haiko had taken up since the appearance of Pierre. It created an air of serenity, of peace that is only achieved by those who have fully learned themselves. Those like Pierre who have had an eternity to learn.
"I still don't believe that you're here Pierre," Haiko told Pierre.
"And I frankly don't either. This entire thing has been a true eye opener, and I get to at least witness the materialistic world one final time. I get to see the green brush calmly sway in the wind that blows all over us. This wind is what brings us to true peace."
The two walked in silence again until Pierre suddenly stopped. "I fear it is almost my time to leave Haiko. I was happy to help with hopefully ending your grief," he said with a sad smile coursing over his pale face.
"I have one more question before you do though," Haiko quickly asked, hoping to have this question answered once and for all.
"Yeah, ask away."
"Is it terrifying, death?" Haiko asked quietly.
"No, I don't think so. It's the way it is, you know. Everything must come to an end for what would the meaning of life be if there is nothing to finish it off. Everything good must come to an end. Similarly how everything bad, like grief, comes to an end eventually."
As Pierre said this, he slowly began to dissipate. The wisp that had once been him was now joining with the mist that floated over the edges of the swamp. Pierre gave one last smile before his face disappeared, returning back to the world of spirits.
Haiko stood still for a moment before wiping a single tear from his eye. He turned and looked around, quickly realizing that he was lost. He bit his lip in both anger and annoyance until he heard voices. Even Hiro perked up, showing Haiko that this was not his imagination.
He cut through the brush ahead and was amazed to find Appa and the Gaang right there.
"We have to find the other three."
"Toph, can you try and locate any of them?"
"At last someone asked me. Haiko has been standing over there for some time."
Everyone turned to see Haiko waving there awkwardly.
"Pierre, you sly dog," he muttered to himself.
"Haiko!" Aang yelled, rushing towards Haiko and giving him a hug. "How did you get here?"
"I have my ways." Haiko responded cryptically.
Katara turned to Toph and said, "How about Sokka and Suki?"
"They're nearby, but I think you might want to give them some time until they're ready," Toph replied, her face in a grimace, yet she refused to say any more.
Western Sea
August 22, 1940
The dull buzz of the plane's rotor was pleasantly ignored by Moza as they sailed through the sky. The propellers too were ignored by his eyes as he gazed at the white fluffy clouds below.
Yet while one would think the air is warm, it was actually pretty cold. Moza could see his breath blowing around him.
His eyes were drawn to the radio that sat discarded at the bottom of his cockpit. He had half a mind to use it to ease the boredom he felt. But he knew that nothing was encrypted, command did not want the enemy fleet to know that a Fire Nation force was approaching. So he fought the urge.
He glanced to his left and looked at the mass of dive bombers they were defending. He had been told yesterday that they would attempt to strike the Japanese strike force that sailed just west. In total, three waves of planes, mostly dive bombers with a few escorts.
The first wave would come from the north, and the second and third would come from the east. Moza and his squadron found themselves escorting the second wave of bombers.
Their numbers were in the hundreds. Only about thirty fighters with the rest being dove bombers, ready to sink the enemy fleet.
Admiral Kusaka thought of himself as a man that isn't easily surprised. But as he watched the flames burn on the Kaga, he was shocked.
The enemy had attacked without warning, dropping out of the skies like dragons, and caught the Japanese force on their back foot. The planes quickly crippled two destroyers and one cruiser. Some destroyers were racing to save the ailing ships.
A few other ships had also been hit but none as bad as the previous three. A few had fires burning on their deck like the Kaga but the sheer amount of planes that had attacked the Japanese struck fear in the Admiral's heart.
If they could field that many planes, how many do they actually have? Less than a year ago they had no air force. Now, they fielded hundreds of planes to attack the Japanese fleet.
Luckily, the amount of planes in the attack cemented the idea in the Admiral's head that this was all the Fire Nation planes there were. Oh, how wrong he was.
Moza checked his watch, seeing it was almost ten o'clock. The Japanese fleet would just be recovering from the first wave and would likely doubt the possibility of a second.
They thought the Fire Nation was primitive. But they were far from it.
The Fire Nation was a place with a complex culture and history, unlike the Earth Kingdom or Water Tribes. It was a nation that had lasted for seven hundred years, and it would last for seven hundred more. She had survived internal disputes that threatened to rip her apart. But yet, she still stands above the rest, on an exalted throne.
The enemy may have been technologically advanced, but one must not doubt the war production and flexibility of the Fire Nation. It was this flexibility that allowed them to raise more soldiers from both genders, unlike the other nations. It was this flexibility that allowed them to mass produce guns and planes at a record rate.
Today, the Fire Nation would prove to the world that they should not be messed with. They stood above the rest, guiding the world with their steady hand. This was Sozin's dream.
The second wave never encountered any enemy fighters patrolling the skies. The Japanese fleet never saw them coming.
The skies erupted with flak and tracers as the first planes dropped from the skies. Moza picked up the radio and quickly yelled, "Uza, I need you as my wingman," when he saw enemy fighters appear directly ahead.
Uza pulled right along Moza's wing as they began to pursue enemy fighters. It was as if they had stirred a hornet's nest. What once was clear blue skies with slight overcast was now Japanese planes turning the sky into a hellish landscape of tracers.
A lone Japanese Zero pulled across Moza's gunsight and he quickly forced the joystick left to chase. He pulled up towards the tail of the Zero, trying to get his sights aligned while Uza stuck to his left wing.
Then he unleashed a short burst, utterly destroying the fuselage of the enemy plane. The engine caught fire and the Zero dove towards the ocean below it.
"Mark it down Uza, that's another kill," Moza joked over the radio.
He heard Uza laugh loudly before he said, "You got your kill, it's my turn now. Just stick and be my wingman."
Uza rolled left with Moza holding to his right wing. They dove on an unfortunate Zero and Uza let loose his own small burst. Moza saw the sparks from the bullets hitting the plane but the plane still flew.
But the pilot had realized his predicament and flew away, kicking his plane into full throttle and fleeing to live another day.
Moza smiled at the sight before he pulled to the right, bringing Uza with him. This time, the instant he turned a Zero flew through his gun sights.
He unleashed another salvo but he only damaged the Zero, not seriously but enough to make the pilot decide that he would retreat.
He pulled hard left again and saw a Zero slightly below him attacking a dive bomber. He put his plane on full throttle and dove, running down the unlucky Zero.
Once he got in range, he pulled the trigger pumping the Zero up like a water balloon. The Zero, for his part, caught fire magnificently and fell towards the sea. But before it did, it exploded.
Moza glanced over towards the sea to see how the attack had been progressing and he was elated to see many Japanese ships aflame. However, he knew that there would likely be many KIA and MIA when they returned.
His eyes were drawn to one bomber who was beginning its attack. It was diving at a very steep angle and it was aiming for one of the four aircraft carriers in the group.
Flak exploded around it but the pilot remained firm in his course. Moza could imagine the steel will of the man flying the dive bomber and his serious face as machine gun fire blasted around him.
It got extremely close to the aircraft carrier before unleashing its bomb. It pulled up, just missing the carrier as the bomb impacted right below the bridge.
A fire erupted and smoke billowed from where the bomb landed and the dove bomber pulled away and back towards the sky. One of the many prides of the Japanese fleet now sat like a sitting duck in the water. The carrier was now stained with sugar in a sky of flies.
But Moza and Uza had stayed still for far too long. A Japanese Zero dove down upon them like a dragon and strafed the two pilots from behind and pulled up.
Moza winced as bullets impacted the side of his and Uza's plane. The sound was devilish and malicious. Yet no bullets had impacted his plane in any vital areas which was miraculous.
He glanced to the corner of his eye and saw that Uza did not have the same luck. His plane was leaking fuel and small snakes of smoke leaked from the engine.
But Moza discarded any thoughts about Uza. Right now, he had to deal with the Japanese pilot who dared attack him.
He yanked back on the joystick with as much strength he could muster. His plane in response pulled in the steepest climb Moza had ever felt. But he knew his plane could not hold this for long.
He quickly got the Zero into the middle of his sights and fired. Right after he did so, his plane forced a descent. As he dove down, Moza watched as the flaming Zero streaked just past his nose before plunging into the ocean.
Moza doubled back and pulled up along Uza. He picked up the radio and said, "Uza, are you there? Is your plane alright?"
Moza tensely paused for a reply. His heart hammered as he could only sit and wait for his friend's reply. But then the radio turned on.
"Moza, my planes leaking fuel badly and well, I don't think I'm making it back."
"Then leave now, bail when you run out of fuel, and we'll send someone to pick you up," Moza explained with a confused tone.
"No, I'm not going to survive much longer. Three bullets hit me, and I can't feel it. That's when you know it's bad. Add to the fact that my planes' leaking fuel and smoking, I don't think I'm getting out of this alive."
"Uza, listen to me, you'll make it out of this," Moza pleaded.
"Moza, just tell my parents that I thought of them before I died and of my heroism," Uza radioed for the final time before utter silence.
"Uza, don't leave me now you idiot! I can't get through this without you. You're my second in command, my best friend!" Uza's plane began to take a steep dive, its target the fleet. "Uza!"
Moza had half a mind to follow, but chose not to, knowing that he would be destroyed by flak if he did. Instead he pulled into a turn and watched as Uza's plane plummeted towards the ground.
That's when Moza heard heavy breathing over the radio. With a shock, he realized that Uza still lived. He picked up the radio once more to try and reach him.
"Uza, don't do this!"
Then he heard two words. Two words that would haunt him forever.
"I'm sorry."
Uza's plane continued to dive at an uncontrollable rate. Flak exploded around him as Moza finally realized what he was doing. He was aiming for the Akagi, the pride of the Japanese aircraft carrier fleet.
The heavy breathing continued until Uza got very close to the Akagi. Then Moza heard a scream.
"For the everlasting Empire of Fi-" Uza never finished.
A giant explosion resulted on the deck of the Akagi as Uza slammed full force into her. His plane pierced the flight deck like a knife through butter and it exploded right in the hangar.
A series of further explosions occurred as bombs exploded, killing hundreds below deck. Moza watched it all from above.
He bowed his head in sadness at the death of his best friend. Then he pulled away and searched for another target with vigor.
Then, he saw an enemy aircraft chasing one of his own below him. He flipped and dove, choosing to get his revenge.
He pulled behind the Zero and launched a burst. But, the friendly plane had pulled left to enter a spiral, pulling the Zero with him.
Moza followed, still filled with anger over the death of Uza. But then he watched as tracers passed by him. He quickly glanced back and realized with horror that another Zero was on his tail.
Moza truly didn't know what to do. He could pull off and try to lose the Zero on him or he could try to down the Zero in front of him and hope someone else will down the Zero behind him.
He decided on the former and pulled his Firebird into a tighter turn. The natural forces of nature pulled on him, making his body beg for Moza to release out of the turn, but Moza had no intention of doing so.
But the Japanese pilot in front of him had no such strength and pulled out of the turn. Moza chased him and the other Firebird who had been in front of the Zero, pulled behind Moza's.
The Zero brought Moza into a roll towards the ground. Moza remained firm at the man's tail. He tapped the trigger, launching a small burst that hit the Zero's wing.
The Zero leveled out and banked hard to the left. The pilot once again entered a heavy turn, this time with no intention of exiting.
Moza chanced a glance behind him and saw that the other Zero and Firebird were also in the turn. However, the Firebird now had his own Zero on his tail and another Firebird on that Zero.
Moza knew that his plane and the Zero had the same turn rate. The small differences between the two resulted from the plane's upkeep. As a result, this dogfight was turning into a stalemate as the six planes spiraled closer and closer to the ocean. Eventually someone would have to pull out.
They were a fair distance away from the ships, settling the fears in Moza's heart that he would be shot down if he got too close to the ocean. Either way, they were more focused on the dive bombers than the fighters.
When they got too close to the ocean, the Zero turned sharply to the right, its wing dipped dangerously close to the sea. Behind the Zero, the other five planes followed.
At last, Moza got the Zero in his sights when the pilot banked left and he pulled the trigger. The Zero's wing hit the water and it instantly tumbled across the waves as it broke apart.
Now Moza had to deal with the planes that were behind him. He knew that he had to regain altitude to prevent being shot by the Zero behind him. He had milliseconds to think of a plan before the Zero behind him chose to shoot.
He shoved the joystick back to him and left to pull his Firebird into a spiral up back towards the sky. He pushed his plane to full throttle and prayed to every spirit he knew that he would survive as bullets peppered his plane.
He leveled the plane out before hurling left towards the fluffy clouds. He flew into them and instantly couldn't see anything. With a sense of hope, he glanced back to see if any Zeros remained on tail and breathed a sigh of relief.
He pulled back to the right and to his shock, a Zero narrowly missed him as it flew across. He snarled and jerked back to the left and chased the Zero through the clouds.
They broke through the clouds with the Zero in front and Moza behind with no other planes in sight. The Zero pilot realized his error and desperately tried to lose Moza but Moza was relentless. His anger over Uza's death still burned hot.
The Zero pilot pulled down and tried to outrun the Firebird. Moza dove down, and he knew that there would only be one shot at this. The Zero would only be in his sights for a second. His finger itched the trigger.
Then it passed, and that finger squeezed. Machine gun rounds flew through the air and smashed into the Zero's engines.
The engines caught fire and the propellers stopped moving. For a few seconds the Zero continued to move forward before it slowly dove towards the ocean. A black figure appeared from the cockpit and leapt out. Then the plane smashed into the water.
Moza turned his plane around and planned to strafe the helpless pilot in the water. He dove towards the downed pilot who sat treading water. But then, he felt a presence behind him. One that told him not to do it.
That made him think. Would Uza want Moza to kill this man in cold blood? He pondered this.
And at the last second Moza pulled away.
He turned back around and grabbed a life vest from behind him. When he passed over, he opened his canopy and chucked his vest to the pilot who was in the water.
The Japanese pilot waved at Moza in thanks, and Moza raised his hand in farewell. Then he flew away.
The attack had already finished when Moza returned. He decided to return to base alone because that would be his best bet in finding the rest of the group. But before he did, he would check to see how the Akagi was holding up.
He broke out of the clouds and looked to where the Akagi once was. He saw that she had fallen to her port side and was slowly sinking. A few other ships also burned and a few others were in the process of sinking. He smiled, Uza had not died in vain.
He pulled away with a grin, knowing that this was not the final attack. When the 3rd Wave came, this fleet would be crippled.
August 28, 1940
I don't like the Fire Nation Classical works that pertain to war all too much. To me, they are pure foolery in what they teach and at points I doubt they're even classical. Could Ozai have created poetry as propaganda? I wouldn't put it past him.
Poetry like "Jewels of the Sea" by Kuzo and short stories like "The Prelude" by Juaz Lee show an unrealistic view of war. They focus on the glories and honor that comes in war but always neglect the suffering that comes with it.
It leaves out how soldiers are completely transformed by their experiences. I see Zim struggle with dreams of his suffering at night sometimes. I, too, dream of the field where I watched people I knew get run down by Japanese soldiers.
War is not the moral and just thing society makes it out to be. It is a horrible thing and this unjustified war must be stopped.
The people as a result must rise up and bring down the unjust monarchy or simply any government. It is their responsibility to do so when it becomes corrupt and forces itself on the freedoms by which society holds so dear.
I hope for the fall of Ozai and his administration. I have lost faith in the monarchy and everything it promises. They live on a throne built on lies and propaganda.
I refuse to support them. I never will and I pray the people will realize the uselessness in following an authoritarian state. It must always be a nation where the people rule and where they own private industry. It will stop the fall of our world into the pits of tyranny.
But onto other matters, Anza still refuses to tell Zim and me where she came from. I will let it sit for a while and I will ask another time, likely in a month or so. Hopefully I will gain the fruits of this endeavor.
Until I write again, Souza Zèle
Sands of the Si Wong
September 7th, 1940
Michael decided that he hated the desert. And the sand. And the heat.
Oh, how he hated the heat, he thought as he sweated buckets in the cramped space of his Panzer, Breina as Franz continues to call it.
"I don't know how we live with this heat!" Peter complained, sweat dripping down his eyes, scouring his vision.
"I think it's downright atrocious," Franz added as he remained focused on the sand ahead.
"This is quite possibly the worst place I've ever been," Kurt, the new gun loader that replaced Paul, muttered.
All in all, Kurt managed to surprise the three original members of the tank crew. He fit in perfectly with their group and eased into the playful banter between Franz and Peter that occurred every ten minutes. Sometimes, Michael found it annoying how the three of them would scream at each other over something as pathetic as sand in their boots.
For example, one time Peter complained of sand getting in his radio and that it was messing it up so much. Michael had expected Franz to make some sort of comment and he was surprised when Kurt did. He said that it was as messed up as Peter's sister when he finished with her.
Michael didn't even know that Peter had a sister but clearly Franz and Kurt did because Franz had stopped the tank and laughed louder than Michael had ever heard him laugh. Peter had turned beat red and Kurt had smiled proudly.
Michael glanced at Paul's tank that rode to the left of them. He was head of the special tank division that Panzers and mencomprised of good. A few had Iron Crosses. Michael was in the line of earning a possible one if he continued on his path. This tank division was called the Spezielle Panzerkorps.
In front of the Spezielle Panzerkorps were a few new Shermans from 1st American Tank Army. The Americans had mass produced them in such great numbers since the order for manufactory had gone through that the Sherman Medium Tank was now the premier tank in the American army. Also with the force were four PSS, short for Patrol Sand-Sailors .
The two tank forces were approaching a Fire Nation position that laid somewhere in these dunes. Reconnaissance noted that it was mostly tanks with few anti-tank weaponry. Paul believed that the Panzers they would face would be manned by recruits. That eased Michael's jittering nerves.
As they rolled to the edge of a plateau, Michael saw them. The enemy tanks were spread out in a valley as if they were scattered ash. Their positions were heavily fortified from the position they were at. It would be a slaughter to head down the dune.
Four of the PSS's sailed towards the flanks of the valley, two going each way. The Sherman's began to spread out to make themselves a harder target also. Meanwhile, the Panzer IV's under the command of Paul remained as a rear guard.
That's when the Fire Nation tanks began to shoot.
Sand exploded right in front of the Shermans who returned fire. The American Lieutenant, realizing he had the initiative, ordered the Shermans to move forward. As they did, the radio blaired to life.
"Sieg 2-10, follow me. Sieg 12-20, follow Wittmann," said Paul over the radio. "Switch to separate frequencies. I'm going to head east, Wittmann head west."
There was a perk to once being Paul's previous commander. Paul knew that Michael was a seasoned Panzer commander and is therefore his right hand man. So, he gained control of some Panzers from time to time.
He drove his tank down the plateau as the enemy tanks focused their fire on the advancing Shermans who had yet to take any casualties. The other Panzers followed.
"Enemy Panzer, 9 o'clock!" Franz screamed.
Michael turned the Panzer's main gun and aimed for said tank. Once he was sure with his aim, he pulled the trigger.
It was a direct hit and the enemy tank stopped moving. Michael rotated the gun and once more looked for another target. Meanwhile, Kurt reloaded the main gun and yelled, "Loaded," when he was done.
That's when he saw another one of the Fire Nation medium tanks and tried to lock on to it. But its turret was also facing towards him and the Zoryu tank was the first to fire.
Luckily, the gunner sucked and the projectile slammed in the sand ahead of Breina. However, Michael lost sight of the Zoryu.
When the dust cleared, he saw that the Zoryu still had its gun pointing at him. He fired again and flames erupted from the Zoryu.
He turned the turret again and saw the Sherman's continuing their cavalry charge. It was like a scene from the era of Napoleon. A time when cavalry would rush enemy positions. Instead of a cavalry of horses, it was a cavalry of tanks. Sand exploded around them and already one was knocked out. But the Sherman's continued their charge against the inexperienced Fire Nation soldiers.
"Look! It's our flyboys up above!" Franz called in happiness as Stukas dropped from the air and let loose their deadly payloads. Explosions rocked the ground and more Fire Nation Zoryu's laid burning in their fortifications.
The goal for the tanks was to move faster than the Zoryu's could rotate their turrets. If they did, they could hit them from behind.
Michael's Panzer group assaulted the weak left flank of the enemy with the powerful Panzer IV. Their guns rotated with ease as commanded, and their gunners were experienced enough to hit a target while moving. The enemy tanks never stood a chance.
By the end of the battle, destroyed Zoryu tanks littered the ground. Their burning carcasses illuminated the dawn hours as the glories of victory were felt by the Allied forces.
Eastern Earth Kingdom
September 19th, 1940
Viktor and Dmitry stared at the weird vehicle with a vested interest. It was a normal truck if one only took a quick glance at it. The thing that shocked Viktor and Dmitry were the giant rockets on the back.
"What is that…thing?" Viktor asked.
"It seems to be rockets placed on the back of a truck," Dmitry said with a shrug. "Wonder what it's called."
This time, Viktor shrugged. "It's probably some stupid acronym like the T-34 or KV-1. They should make a real name. Not just mash numbers and letters together."
"Yeah, it probably is a stupid name. Not a good one like a song."
The two turned away from the weird looking vehicle and began to walk back towards their bunkers. Both had realized the sudden increase in Soviet military equipment in the past week and a half. They knew what that meant.
There would be a major operation on the way so it would be best if the two simply enjoyed the time being. Once the operation began, they would be on the move again, towards the city they have only heard about in legends, Ba Sing Se.