Chapter 3: A Swift Storm of Iron
ITA Match Site
Near Caen, France, Normandy Region
Match Start + 30 (10:30 a.m.)
The thunder of heavy guns echoed like thunderclaps, chunks of earth flying skyward as the French were quick to press the attack, the shells from the ARL-44s making the ground shake around the British tankers. But like Wellington's infantry at Waterloo, the St. Gloriana tanks held firm, Olivia waiting for the barrage to abate before she made her move. The redhead smirked and thought: "If this poor man's imitation of Napoleon is the best that French girl has...then this might be easier than I thought…" However, any further thinking was disrupted when a 90mm shell slammed into the earth near the Centaur before the sound of the French artillery ceased. Pausing for a few seconds, she then opened up the radio to her Crusader tank crews, with Olivia happy that the barrage hadn't spooked them.
"Alright ladies, now that the French have shown their cards, let's show them how the British really do it," she then raised her hand, motioning her light tanks to advance, "Girls, make like foxes and raise hell amongst those crowing roosters." A chorus of affirmatives echoed over the radio as the Crusader tanks emerged from the woods, kicking up dirt as they sped from her flanks and made their way towards the flanks of the French, Liberty engines roaring as alarm now echoed over the French radios at the speed of the assault. As French commanders panicked and swore, the British tanks came crashing into the tanks guarding the flanks like Hussar cavalry, with the fights amongst the tanks taking on the appearance of a drunken brawl.
However, the fights were ultimately being won by the Crusader tanks, the 6-pounder guns making quick work of the lightly armed and poorly coordinated Somua S 35s before diving into the main portion of the French formation, doing what Olivia very much set out to do: causing the French to panic and make them pull back to defend from was essentially the modern equivalent of a cavalry charge. Watching from her position, Olivia smirked as the French brought their heavy tanks to their flanks to keep their formation from imploding. While she was amused at the French using their B1bis tanks for their improvised defense, the redhead's expression turned to one of alarm as she saw the ARL-44s maneuver into position and take aim, the thunder of their 90mm guns echoing again.
The flash and thunder was brief as the Crusaders pulled back, but not before two of their number had been taken by the devastating power of the ARLs' 90mm guns. Like foxes running away from wolves, the tanks made it back to their starting positions, their part in the battle completed. Through the binoculars, she could see that the charge had indeed produced great results: four S 35 tanks were smoking wrecks, with the rest of them taking up the positions of the fallen tanks. However, the redhead did not dismiss that the French had drawn blood as well, for St. Gloriana had taken a bloodying of their own, losing two Crusaders in the withdrawal. However, the girl had obtained all she needed to know about the make-up of the French formation, mentally preparing her next move whilst BC Freedom licked their wounds.
As the French hurried back into their formation, Olivia plotted her next move, motioning for Shirley's modified Achilles to move into position. Keeping its lower hull protected behind the rise, the vehicle's 17-pounder gun pointed menacingly towards the French lines. However, it didn't fire, but provoked the French to respond, which was the red-head's intention. Pulling back behind the rise, chucks of earth soared skyward as 90mm and 75mm Howitzer fire obliterated the small earthen lip, as if it had insulted the mothers of the French tankers below. As she kept her gaze down below through her binoculars, Olivia now had an even better idea of where the French tanks were. And once again, the girl was ready to put her Crusaders to work again, this time as bait.
"Girls, now that we've managed to give the French ijits a good smack, we need you to draw them up the hill towards our position," she stated over the radio, "this way, our wolves can get a little hunting in," before switching over to the frequency the Cromwells were on before she cued them into the plan, to which a cheer resounded, "Bloody hell, it's about damn time you let us loose. Just give us the signal and we'll pounce," the group leader gleefully replied, keeping the line open for the signal. At that moment, Olivia put the second part of her battle plan into motion, with the Crusaders bolting from the treeline near the village to St. Gloriana's current position...where the Cromwells lay waiting to pounce on the French.
"Yes, Louise...their tanks are retreating," BC Freedom's second in command said, "Their light tanks run for the hills!" her tone jubilant as the team's commander mulled over the statement before falling for the Englishwoman's bait, shouting, "Then let us finish off those English dogs! All tanks, push forward!" The engines of the French tanks roared to life as they gave chase, the guns of the ARL-44s making the Crusaders scatter their formation like roaches as they fired on them. All the while, the tanks fired back, further baiting the French into Olivia's trap. Mid-way up the hill...the trap sprung.
"Bloody hell, Olivia," Shirley remarked, "You really must have got their blood boiling because they're coming right for us." "Good," the redhead coolly replied, "We have them right where we want them." Raising her hand, she then gave the signal, Meteor engines roaring to life as the Cromwells came from out of the tree line and down the hill, making like foxhounds for the French formation. Cursing, the S 35s did the best they could to defend against the cavalry tanks, the English 75mm guns making quick work of two of the S 35s, peeling away and heading back up the hill. Now back in the trees, Olivia now orchestrated a dance that had the tanks in a deadly concave for the awaiting French.
"Louise...madam...are you sure about continuing the assault?" she asked, clearly shaken by the hit and run attack by Gloriana's Cromwells. "I am quite sure of it," Louise shot back, her adrenaline up and her judgement clouded by anger, "That attack was nothing! Continue the assault!" the girl ordered, "Let us remind the English of who's land this is!" The tanks slowly plodded forward as they crested the hill, greeted only by trees as they finally came upon the English position, greeted only by the dull rumble of engines. "Are you hiding again, Albion!?" the girl shouted in French, "Come out and let us finish you off like the dogs you are!" Soon enough, the girl got her wish.
Out from the trees, Olivia's tanks finally closed the trap, putting the French tanks into a lethal crossfire of steel as they all surrounded the remains of the French team, with the redhead's Centaur place behind the French commander's FT-17, St. Gloriana's lone heavy tank in the fight right beside the stubby barreled cavalry tank. Out from the Churchill popped up the team's fiery tempered Welsh commander Siana, smirking; Olivia popping out of her hatch moments later. "So," the redhead remarked, "Not feeling so confident now, are we?" grinning as the French girl let out a torrent of angry French curses at the two. "Say, you might want to get back in your coffin," Siana remarked smugly in her distinct Welsh accent, "because this is going to hurt you...a lot." The Welsh girl then descended back down into her tank before Olivia raised her hand, quickly closing her fist, giving the signal for the slaughter to begin.
The end of the battle came mercifully quick for the French, with their tanks succumbing to the withering English barrage of fire and steel. As the smoke settled, Olivia let out a raucous bit of laughter at the sight of the FT-17 on its side, flag raised, its engine casing torn open like a sardine can. The state of the rest of the French tanks were equally as sorry, smoke belching from their torn engine housings. Surprisingly, the ARL-44s drew blood one last time, taking out a Cromwell and Shirley's Achilles before they succumbed to the firestorm. All the redhead needed to do was to hear the Ulsterite's emphatic cursing to ascertain what her second in command thought about it. But with the new victory, the spotlight of the UK's attention would now be focused on her. It would be attention that she was woefully unprepared for. For now...celebrations were the order of the day.
Unsurprisingly, the celebrations on the English side came all too quickly as a wave of euphoria swept over those in the stands, and those watching the pubs quickly joining in the celebrations. The waving of Union Jack flags joined those of the Scottish cross and the red dragon of Wales, along with those singing 'God Save the Queen', 'Scotland the Brave' and 'The Land of My Fathers' drunkenly in the pubs and hoarsely in the stands. As the celebrations began, the rest of Olivia's day seemed to go by in a blur of news interviews and a torrent of questions. However, one thing was made abundantly clear to the rest of international Tankery: the girls of St. Gloriana were back to top form, and they meant business.