Note from Kanuro5: I am actually surprised how quickly I churned this chapter out, the Muse just came to me and I started writing. I truly did not intend for this chapter to be this long. But like I said, the Muse had taken me, and I was determined to write to the finish. Enjoy!
The Tanker II
July 25, D-Day + 49
"Armor is heavy, yet it is a proud burden, and a man standeth straight in it"
A cup of Joe was what Staff Sergeant Shiloh Wilcox desperately needed this morning. His tank crew had planned on sleeping in today, but those flyboys ruined that for them. Today, the Air Corps had carpet-bombed miles of German held territory, specifically targeting the retreating Panzer Lehr Division.
The heavy bombers were everywhere in the sky, their incessant droning was like a record player that never turned off. The bombing itself was so intense that the men of Able could feel the earth-shaking miles away. The echoes of the bomb's explosion sounded like popcorn popping, but a deeper bass.
The bombing finally stopped thirty minutes ago. It was now 1000 hours and the tank commander was already on his second cup of coffee, courtesy of the boys from Battalion HQ he visited before he returned to Able. Upon arriving, Duck had told him that Captain MacKay was meeting with the fellow leaders of Able to discuss today's plan.
Everyone was in a circle, kneeling in the dirt. There was 1st Platoon's Staff Sergeant Fischer, 2nd Platoon's Lieutenant Peck and Duck, and 3rd Platoon's Sergeant Duhaney. Next to them was Staff Sergeant Matthews, the leader of the Wolverines on loan from the 4th Cavalry.
MacKay laid out the map of the local area in the middle of the men, he cleared his throat before he began. "It's called Operation Cobra. This is finally our chance to breakout from Normandy. The lovely alarm clock known as the "Air Corps" has kicked off this new offensive. They soften up the Germans, and our armor and infantry bulldoze through Jerry and hedgerows."
Wilcox had to say what was on his mind, "So basically the plan is to drive at the Germans like we usually do, but give it some more juice and actually break through?"
MacKay gave a half-smirk, "Well, when you put it like that, Wilcox…"
"The Army never changes, whose idea was this, sir?"
"General Bradley. You want me to get him on the horn for you to complain?" he asked, the smirk still on his face.
"Yes sir, I can't wait for our appointment to be ready by Christmas."
The men around him laughed, even MacKay. Before MacKay continued, Duhaney looked up from the meeting, his eyes catching something approaching them. "There he is," the platoon sergeant said.
Strolling up to the debriefing was Sergeant Crane, walking tall and mean, his usual style. One could notice that his arm was still bandaged within a sling, but it was mostly obscured in his jacket, and that protruding budge in the jacket was better hidden with Crane wearing the additional layer of his Ranger vest. In addition to the sling, Crane finally had the chevrons of a First Sergeant sewn on the sleeves of his field jacket.
"Great of you to join us, First Sergeant!" Sergeant Duhaney announced with a wide smile.
Crane took a knee beside Duhaney, "Yep, wouldn't miss it for the world."
Everyone was either smiling or smirking at Crane's return, except MacKay.
"I thought I told Captain Meyers to keep you at the Aid Station…" he growled, more annoyed than angry.
"That he did, sir. But I was able to get my way through the two orderlies he had stationed on me. I'm sorry, sir, I don't mean to be AWOL from the hospital—"
"And yet, you repeatedly do," MacKay interrupted in a gruff tone.
"But I heard that Able was going after the Panthers who blasted away the 4th Cav. The boys need their First Sergeant, sir. They need me."
"You can't even fight in this condition. Your arm is still banged up, you can't even hold a rifle."
"That's why I traded up with this." Crane motioned with the Grease Gun slung over his shoulder. The M3 was so lightweight and compact that an infantryman could fire it onehanded with the stock extended, albeit inaccurately, but if he were close enough to the enemy..."
"Crane, you're going to head back to B.A.S, now."
"Sir, we're understrength in the leadership department. I heard what happened to Gittens and the scouts. And now we're going against a cornered snake. I apologize for arguing, sir, but I'm staying here as Able Company's First Sergeant."
The leaders of Able looked to the Captain, whose eyes did not leave Crane's. MacKay made a low grunt, then nodded, "All right, Crane. I did choose you to be the new First Sergeant, and I'm glad you're taking it seriously. You'll be commanding 3rd Platoon."
Wilcox believed it was the first time he witnessed Crane smile. Duhaney playfully slapped the Top on the back with a wide grin, "Glad it's not my job anymore."
MacKay brought his eyes pack down on the map and jabbed his finger in the middle.
"Alright, the Panzer Lehr took a beating this morning, but its Panther tanks are still operational and a threat to us. Air recon shows that Panthers were last spotted in this area and we can presume they're waiting for us. They spotted seven Panthers in the area. I repeat, seven Panthers. And there are bound to be other armored vehicles within Hebecrevon. We're outgunned here and the Panthers have the elements of surprise, so we must proceed with caution. Once we've located the Panthers, we'll use Shermans and infantry to draw them out and then deploy the TDs to flank them."
MacKay looked up from the map, his face was sour, "Boys, Wilcox, I know what I'm asking of you all."
"We understand, sir," Crane said earnestly.
"That's right, Captain," Wilcox spoke up. "You need bait on the hook to catch the prize fish."
MacKay gave a short chuckle, "Hope you all remember that when we're in the thick of it."
"Sir, how should we proceed?" Peck asked.
"We'll start with the left flank near the industrial zone. We got buildings there which may house MGs or snipers, I suggest a duo of Sherman and Wolverine to assist 3rd Platoon in clearing it out. Wilcox, Matthews, I'll leave it to you two to determine which tank should go where. From there, we slant up to the northwest, rolling over the territory like a carpet. With 3rd Platoon on the left, I will have 2nd Platoon and Weapons on the right flank with 1st Platoon in reserve. We kick off in an hour, get your men ready. Good luck."
Wilcox followed Sergeant Matthews back to the tank area where the Wolverines and Shermans were being serviced. Wilcox walked beside Matthews and lit a Chesterfield, "Finally some good news in that we get more armor to help us out."
Matthews looked at him, "Yeah?"
"Yeah. Before you guys, it was just me and another Sherman."
"Christ, that ain't much support."
"Exactly, which makes me happy that you boys are here."
Both tankers stopped walking and faced each other with genial smiles. Wilcox extended his hand, "Shiloh Wilcox, 2nd Armored."
Matthews shook it firmly, "Eddie Matthews, 4th Cavalry."
"C'mon. I'll introduce you to my crew."
Matthews told his tank crew to follow Wilcox, and they all approached Excalibur, with its crew relaxing in the sun by the treads, drinking their canteens.
"Boys, on your feet," Wilcox commanded, "We got some tankers you should be acquainted with."
All four men of his crew jumped up, especially the Rookie. Wilcox was so proud of these four. He turned to Matthews with a smile that was worth a million bucks.
"This is my crew. Private Grits, our driver. Our loader, Private Russo. Then we got our gunner, Corporal Hartinallow, we call him 'Adrian'. And last, we got our replacement bow gunner and A-Driver, we couldn't say his last name, so he's known as 'Rook'."
Rook rolled his eyes and whined, "Saaaarge… I've been with you for a month, I'm not a rookie anymore. My name's Olszewski."
Matthews snickered, "Wait, what was your name, kid?"
Wilcox shot his hands up in a shrug, "See what I mean? That's why I called him 'Rook', can't pronounce that name."
"Well the kid is right, though," Corporal Adrian remarked. "He's been with us for a month now, and he ain't foul up too royal. Can't call him 'Rook'."
Wilcox sighed playfully, "Fine. What was your name again, Rook?"
"Damn it… it was Olszewski. It's pronounced Oh-Shev-Ski"
"Y'know, how about just 'Shev? Because that long name is a pain in the ass," Russo suggested.
"I like it! 'Shev' it is!" Wilcox announced.
"What?! I don't want my name to be 'Shev!' My name is just three syllables."
"Too late, the King of the Sherman has willed it to be, Shev," Adrian was smiling.
"But I—"
Wilcox approached the bow gunner and cleared his throat. He removed his bayonet and gently tapped it on his left shoulder, then moved to the right, "From henceforth, let it be known that this man shall no longer be known as 'Rook' or 'Rookie'! He has been knighted under the auspices of God and shall henceforth be christened as 'Shev! The bow gunner of Excalibur!"
Wilcox's crew, along with the laughing crew of Matthews were applauding, all except the new 'Shev'.
Grits came behind him and patted his shoulder in a comforting manner, "Should've kept your trap shut, 'Shev'. Why you think my name is 'Grits'? My real name's Grotowski. These bastards couldn't remember a Poles' name to save their lives. So, we just go to live with our nicknames."
The newly dubbed 'Shev' looked to the ground and sighed breathlessly, "Goddamn it…"
With that out of the way, Wilcox introduced the most beautiful steed in the kingdom. He placed a loving hand on the hull of their tank, "This right here is Excalibur! Cannon has been upgraded to a 76. 30 cal bow gun, .30 for the coaxial, and the Ma Deuce up top for an extra serving of "Shit-Your-Pants". This here is our holy weapon, Excalibur."
Matthews' smile was large enough to see his teeth, "This is a salty tank, seen its fair share of combat. You got a beaut right here, Wilcox. And that's a good-ass name."
"I know. Now what about your Wolverine?"
Matthew's crew were smirking. Matthews slapped the hull of the Wolverine and beamed with pride, "This mean son of a bitch goes by the name of Death Day. A 3-inch M7 cannon that was forged by Hephaestus himself! And we got our own .50 caliber Ma Deuce that we use to deter any Jerry from approaching us and getting too cute."
Shev looked closer at the turret, "You guys got an open turret?"
"It helps visibility, specifically to search for Kraut armor. We are hunters after all."
"Those tally marks on the cannon…"
"All confirmed kills." Matthews crossed his arms triumphantly, "The white tallies are for armored vehicles, and we got 23. And the red tallies are for tanks, and that's 8."
"Goddamn," Russo remarked with an impressed nod, "You bastards have been busy."
"Hard not to without a crew this good. My driver here is who we call 'Badger', my gunner is a tough SOB, his name's 'Wild Bill', my loader smoking the cigar is D'Amato, and my assistant driver is 'Topeka'."
The crew of Death Day shook the hands of the crew from Excalibur and began talking with the ones of their respective roles. Wilcox motioned for Matthews to follow him.
The two tankers walked over to the second Sherman of Able Company, Hitler's Bane, which was commanded by Sergeant Marco. Wilcox saw the sergeant and waved him over, "Marco, get over here dammit."
"Yo, Wilcox! What's up? And who's this guy?"
Wilcox jabbed his thumb in the air, motioning to Matthews behind him, "This is Staff Sergeant Matthews, 4th Cav."
"How you do, Matthews?"
"Well, Marco, I could go for a beer, honestly."
"Heh, don't we all?"
Matthews looked to the sky, "And relaxing on the beach of Miami, where its hot but not humid."
Marco was nodding, "Yeah? So, where's the stacked blonde in this fantasy? Around your arm?"
"Nope. On her knees, her mouth around on my cock."
Marco fraternally jabbed Matthews in the chest with lecherous chuckles. He faced Wilcox, "I like this guy."
Wilcox grinned, "Yeah? Say the word and I'll put the two of you in the same hotel room. Anyway, let's get down to business, we got about 50 minutes before we kick off. We're hunting Panthers, Marco. Seven of them. They're holed up in Hebecrevon and we're going in there." Wilcox stopped to look at Matthews, who had just unwrapped a lollipop and started enjoying it. "Matthews, you think you should get your boys to hear me speak?"
"Nah, I got a good memory, I'll tell 'em the details. Break it down, Wilcox, your show."
"All right. So, we got seven tanks in total, Excalibur and Hitler's Bane for the Shermans."
Matthews spoke up, "We got five Wolverines present. My Death Day, Scythe, Rex, Billy Boy and Shaky Town."
" 'Shaky Town'?" Marco repeated.
"Yep. The entire crew is from Los Angeles."
"Jesus Christ…"
Wilcox started again, "Panthers are tough customers, but we Sherms got the endurance, the Wolvies pack a punch. If we come in contact, we Sherms get their attention, and the Wolvies hammer at them. Once we get closer to the AO, we'll move up in a line formation before dispersing into either pairs or trios. So, Excalibur and Death Day will be starting off on the left flank with 3rd Platoon. Scythe and Billy Boy have the center. Marco, you'll be paired up with Rex and Shaky Town on the right flank, I know how much you love Californians."
Marco stared at him, his voice was gravely, "You owe me for this, Shiloh…"
Wilcox and Matthews shared a chuckle and patted the disgruntled Marco on the back. "All right, boys, let's get ready for this crusade."
Excalibur was leading the convoy of tanks down the road that the Air Corps had carpet-bombed. The men of Able were hitching a ride on top of the tanks as they drove forward, Captain MacKay and a third of 3rd Platoon were riding on Excalibur.
The area they drove through was completely barren. All trees were blasted apart, every blade of grass was scorched, nothing but dirt, dust, and rust remained. Impact craters meters wide and meters deep were everywhere, the convoy had to zig-and-zag to avoid the holes. The Air Corps had completely razed this area of vegetation. In its wake were armored vehicles and tanks, utterly devoured by the flames of the bombers' payloads. Armored Cars were completely flipped over, tanks were missing entire turrets from their hulls, some tanks had their hulls split apart down the middle of the frame like someone taking a nutcracker to a walnut. And this went on for a solid mile.
Next to these decimated vehicles were dismembered and bloated bodies of the men of the Panzer Lehr Division. Pieces of limbs were everywhere; the crows and flies had already moved in to pick the eyes from the skulls. And by mercy did they stink. Many of the replacements who were on the tanks had to use their clothing as makeshift masks to ward off the putrid stench of the Air Corps massacre.
Corporal Gettle smiled wickedly at the sight and inhaled, "Ah, I love the smell of roasted frankfurters, just like Mama used to make."
Passing by a fiery, overturned Stug, Badmouth retched hard and hawked up a sizable loogie at the carcass of the tank, "Fucking Krauts. I hope it was fucking slow."
"Yeah," Corporal Duffy echoed, "For what they dun did to the Scouts, to us, and what they dun did to the po' cavalrymen."
"We'll get them back boys," Wilcox told them, his eyes scanning the horizon. So many dead, Excalibur was flattening the corpses, Wilcox stopped counting after twenty-five. "We shall get them back."
From the road, the men on the tank could see several demolished buildings and impact craters further on, about two hundred meters from the right of the road. MacKay told Wilcox to stop. Wilcox got on the radio and ordered Grits to stop, the sergeant then ordered the entire convoy to halt.
MacKay stood up from the tank to get a better view through his binoculars. Wilcox looked through his own binoculars as well. The area looked like an industrial complex that had been demolished by war. There were two story buildings with blasted out walls and windows, rusty silos that stood tall and draped with coverings of black smoke, scores of large pipes and metalwork were still standing, albeit barely, metal shipping crates were located near a construction site that had just built its base firmly in cement.
And pass the complex was a large swathe of open field, nothing but dirt and makeshift trenches, absent any Germans. Wilcox wondered what the hell this place could have been if it wasn't touched by war.
"Wilcox, are you seeing what I'm seeing?" MacKay asked, his eyes not leaving his binoculars.
"Yes, sir. This industrial complex is just like on the map."
"That's right. This is the place. Look to the left, 10 o'clock. See those buildings near that factory?"
"Yeah, I guess that's where Excalibur, Death Day, and 3rd Platoon are going to attack."
"That's right. The rest of the tanks will be to your right flank, make sure you and the Wolverine clear out that area before—"
A sudden crackling ping slammed off of the hull of the tank, a foot lower in elevation from where MacKay was standing. A split-second later, a rifle crack shattered the air. The men onboard Excalibur recoiled.
"Whoa! Sniper!" Wilcox yelped.
"Everyone, off the tank!" MacKay roared. "Off! Off! Off!"
The men scrambled off the tank with surprising speed and took cover behind Excalibur. All the soldiers onboard the rest of the tanks jumped off, everyone yelling orders.
Adrian was already pivoting the cannon to face the town, Wilcox turtled his head halfway into the tank, "Stupid son of a bitch"
"What's going on, Wilcox?" Shev asked with large eyes.
"Sniper took a shot at the Cap."
"Why the hell would he shoot so far out here?"
"Must be a replacement who got too twitchy and forgot to hold his fire till we got closer," Wilcox answered.
"And he just mucked it up for his side," Russo said with confidence.
"Damn straight," Wilcox replied.
The tank sergeant stuck his head back out and looked to the Captain behind the tank, "Bastard's definitely in the complex, I just know it, sir."
"All right, we're commencing the attack!" MacKay turned to Crane, "Crane, take 3rd Platoon in. And stay behind the tank."
"Yes, sir!"
Wilcox clenched his eyes for ten seconds; his lips were moving quickly, and his voice was quiet. "Dear Heavenly Father, Saint Michael, and Saint George, please watch over your humble knight. Guide my hands to war and grant me courage to wield the banner of victory. Amen."
The Sergeant from Detroit shot his eyes open and seized the radio, "All tanks, Wilcox here. Line up on me. Hard right. We're advancing on the field. Make a line, keep with me! It's showtime, boys!"
As one, all seven tanks pivoted to the right and drove forward at singular speed. The men of Able were moving behind the tanks in a tight formation, so close that the men could feel the breath of the fellow behind them. They were all traversing open ground; the tanks were their shields from enemy fire.
"Keep this speed boys, We can't go too far from the infantry. Slow and steady wins the race, boys."
Since Excalibur was initially leading the column, he was now on the far-left flank, with the other Sherman, Hitler's Bane, on the far right since he was bringing up the rear. The center in the line of tanks consisted of all five Wolverines.
Wilcox announced on the radio, "We're passing a hundred meters, we'll disperse in 50. We're in Injun country boys, shoot anything that moves."
Automatic fire erupted, machine gun rounds slammed with tinging cracks against the front armor Excalibur, but most of them were ricocheting off the side. Wilcox followed the bright tracers of the MG42, it came from a second story building. He knew the MG42, at the elevated position was targeting the men behind the Sherman.
"Son of a bitch, we got an MG, second story left, 75 meters!" Wilcox turned to the rear of the tank and yelled, "3rd Platoon, you alright?"
Crane yelled up, "No casualties. Take that fucking thing out! The tracers are inches away from us!"
That's the plan. Wilcox radioed in, "All tanks, target the building firing the tracers to far left! H-E that piece of shit!"
All seven tanks lined up their cannons at the building and all seven fired sporadically with high explosive shells. The entire building collapsed into a cloud of thick dust. It was quiet except for the roll of the tank engines.
"Solid hit, boys," Wilcox announced. "We are approaching 50 meters. All tanks, break! Happy hunting, boys!"
Excalibur, Death Day, and 3rd Platoon had now entered the industrial complex with destroyed and derelict buildings shadowing them. Now came the game of cat-and-mouse with the Panthers. Where the hell could they be? Excalibur, being the more durable tank, led the foray into the complex with the infantry flanking beside it. The riflemen were moving through the rubble, peeping their heads out of every corner for snipers, breaching buildings to make sure there were no Krauts present; Crane was doing an excellent job leading with only one arm, he didn't even speak, he just used hand signals to the squad leaders to get his point across.
The Germans opened up from the bottom floor of a building, there was an MG 42 that sprayed against the riflemen. They dropped behind what available cover they had. Excalibur's turret turned to the MG.
"That's a big floor on the bottom where the MG's at! Could be more Krauts inside," Shev announced.
"I see it! Russo, switch out the H-E and gimme a Willie Pete!"
"On it!" The loader opened up the breach to remove the high explosive shelling, and switched it with the white phosphorus shell, an explosive that ignites white smoke that caused severe chemical burns.
This shell was multipurposed, its primary function was to screen for artillery spotters, but tankers across the war realized its brilliant implementation against infantry, especially in enclosed buildings. An H-E round would blow the target away and everything around it, but what if the enemy were in a bunker with many compartments that protected themselves from the blast and concussion? The WP round would ignite in the same location, the smoke would travel everywhere, burning clothing, flesh, and the inside of the lungs; if one did not quickly escape, they would suffocate and/or burn. This was a great tool in clearing out buildings and complexes.
"Willie Pete loaded!" Russo announced.
Excalibur was throttling forward, Wilcox shouted down the hull. "Adrian, you got that bastard?"
"I do!"
"Blast 'em!"
"On it!"
Adrian fired into the MG nest. Once contact was established, the shell exploded into a fierce white cloud with bright yellow sparks. The MG stopped, a few seconds later, screams could be heard inside.
"Fucking beautiful, Adrian. Give us an encore. Another!"
Russo announced, "Loaded!"
"Firing!" Adrian shouted. Excalibur shot a second white phosphorus round into the ground floor.
Three figures slowly exited the smoke, screaming. Pieces of their uniform were burning bright, as if a flashlight were being shone from within their hole-filled jackets. Wilcox could hear Crane telling his men to hold their fire and save ammo, best let these Krauts cook.
From the back of the building, four Germans were frantically sprinting out, coughing as they ran. No one wanted to be trapped in a building filled with white phosphorous. For these four Germans, 3rd Platoon opened up with almighty fury. The rifles, carbines, and automatics were pouring it on into the four, even Sergeant Crane with a busted arm was firing practically one-handed with the Grease Gun, using his bandaged arm as a support prop. The Germans fell full of holes. The three Germans caught by the phosphorus had finally stopped screaming and collapsed, their uniforms still burning with white flames.
"Good going, Excalibur," Matthews radioed over.
"Another day at the office," Wilcox radioed back. "Keep your eyes peeled, there may still be Krauts left."
"Excalibur, come in! This is Rover 3, do you copy, over?"
It was from Sergeant Duhaney. Wilcox picked up the radio, "Rover 3, this is Excalibur, over."
"Excalibur, I flanked around with a few boys to scout ahead. I saw a Panther moving your way down the road from the northeast with a squad of Panzerfausts. You got about forty seconds before they reach you."
"Thanks for the news, Rover 3." Wilcox switched to Matthews, "Death Day, this is Excalibur, did you hear Rover 3?"
"We did, we'll move out of the way to the right and hide behind this building. We'll need you to lure the Panther forward so we can flank it. Good luck!"
Death Day pivoted to the right and quickly hid behind the building. Wilcox could hear the German squeaking of the gears in the tread getting louder. He could hear the heavier engine over his Sherman's. "Adrian, move your cannon up 5 degrees and left 10 degrees. As soon as that bastard comes out, nail 'em!"
"Understood!"
As soon as he finished that word, the cannon of the Panzer protruded from a building. Wilcox could feel the perspiration within his gloves, this was a joust. Here comes the Black Knight on the field of battle with his bigger stallion, heavier armor, and stronger lance. And like a joust, it was all about timing.
"Give me some AP down that fucker's throat, Adrian!"
Adrian cried, "Firing!"
Excalibur shook as it shot out its 76mm shell. The shell slammed into the tank, and then bounced off.
Wilcox was muttering, "All right, pussycat. C'mon and follow this big, juicy mouse."
The Panther was accelerating forward at its top speed, its cannon aimed directly at the front armor of Excalibur.
Grits roared out, "Bastard bit the bait!" Grits was hitting the reverse, hard.
"Boys! Brace!" Wilcox dived inside the tank.
The crew heard the Panther's blast, a split second later they felt the impact. They rocked within the steel weapon; their ears were ringing.
"Jesus!" Shev shouted.
Wilcox inquired quickly, "Any penetration?"
"None, we're good!" Shev announced. "I can see that the blast knocked most of our sandbag armor off!"
"Russo, that AP better be loaded!" Wilcox ordered, opening the hatch to see outside the Sherman.
"Already locked!"
"Adrian?"
"Give it to me!" the gunner begged in excitement.
"Fire!"
"On the way!"
Excalibur fired. The AP shell had more of an impact this time, Wilcox witnessed a quick flash and smoke, but of course, the Panther was still operational. He knew this second shell wouldn't have done much, but he needed to soften the Panther up.
"We got a good hit on him! Russo, load another one! Grits, bug out, slant left, 45 degrees in five seconds! It's got to be sudden so he can't lock on! Shev, keep an eye out on AT teams! The rest we leave to Death Day."
"Where the hell are they?" Adrien asked. "That Panther has us still locked!"
"They're flanking, we need to keep it occupied!" Wilcox pulled back on the hammer to the Ma Deuce and ripped a long burst against the Panther commander. The commander quickly ducked back inside the tank, but Wilcox kept firing. .50 caliber rounds could do jack against the armor, but it was to get their attention and possibly muffle the sound of the flanking Wolverine. The Panther couldn't see Death Day, not even Wilcox knew where they were. But he had to place his faith in Matthews.
The Panther was closing in to achieve maximum accuracy, taking precious aim. Grits stopped the tank. The Panther fired its cannon. Grits slanted at the last moment, the German shell chipped at the edge of the front of the tank and went flying in an angle, exploding several yards away. The blast rocked Excalibur.
Shev was shaking, "Oh God, that thing nearly got us!"
Wilcox yelled in the radio, "Dammit Grits, ya gotta be faster next time!"
"Get off my ass!" Grits shouted back. "To make a slant in reverse, on a fucking dime, is goddamn tough!"
Wilcox swiveled his head around outside the tank, "Matthews, what's your status, buddy?"
"You should be seeing us in 3-2-1…"
And on cue, Death Day came into Wilcox's line of sight. Thirty yards directly behind the Panther. It's 76mm cannon was pointing down the Panther's rear armor, Wilcox smiling fiercely at the sight.
Death Day's cannon belched. The entire Panther rocked violently. Its tank commander was spasming in unadulterated surprise, Wilcox could see that German rotate around in the hull and nearly had a heart attack seeing a Wolverine had completely flanked him.
"Solid hit on the rear armor, Wilcox!" Matthews announced.
"Copy that, ya got him with his pants down!" Wilcox somehow chuckled through the radio.
The Kraut commander was seemingly yelling down in the tank. The Panther stopped pursuing Excalibur and was turning its body in a 90 degree to avoid another rear shot. Wilcox was laughing manically.
"We got the bastard panicking now, Matthews!"
"Sure do, that stupid son of a bitch! And he's going to regret it."
What the Panther commander failed to consider in his panic was that since he was pincered between two tanks, pivoting the Panther to avoid its rear armor targeted had now exposed both of its side armor to be exposed. Specifically, the length of the Panther's treads that were now facing both American tanks.
Both men ordered their tanks to fire; Excalibur demolished the treads on the right side of the Panther, as Death Day destroyed the left treads. The Panther was completely immobilized. The commander seemed to be hysterical, everything was happening at once for him. He yelled in the radio and pointed to Death Day. The Panther's cannon ominously swiveled. Death Day instinctively drove away, faster than the cannon could swivel. With it immobilized, Death Day had an easy time targeting the rear armor and fired another shell into the rear. The Panther was consumed by fire!
"All right! One Panther down!" Wilcox elated. The men in his tank were cheering.
The crew accompanying the Panther promptly surrendered when both tanks aimed their weapons at them. Crane's men took them prisoner, the industrial complex on the left flank was now secure.
"Yo, Wilcox, you there?" It was coming from Hitler's Bane.
"Yeah, Marco, I'm here. What is it?"
"Me and the Wolverines found another Panther! We've moved to the center of the line near the base of the construction site!"
"All right, we'll be there shortly! Excalibur, out!"
Excalibur and Death Day left 3rd Platoon and soared to the destination. Wilcox could hear the distinct booming of Sherman and Wolverine cannons in the distance. The two tanks sped past riflemen safely in cover who were pointing in the direction of the Panther.
The sound of 76mm shells exploding led the duo to an interesting sight. Hitler's Bane was facing a Panther, 75 meters away, whilst three Wolverines were swarming around the Panther, like vultures swooping around a dying prey.
One Wolverine would stop and fire at the Panther, then quickly drive away. The Panther would rotate its cannon at the one that shot it, just to get blasted by another Wolverine. These hit-and-run tactics with the speedy Wolverines were why they were so feared in the ETO when they were in a pack.
"Woohoo! Shootin-and-Scootin'!" Matthews cheered his men through the radio.
A Panzer IV was driving forward from the distance to come to the aid of the isolated Panther. But one of the Wolverines spotted him.
"Death Day, this is Shaky Town, we got a Panzer coming up on our rear!"
"You boys focus on that Panther! We and Excalibur can take 'em! Let's go, Excalibur!"
"Right behind you!"
The Sherman and Wolverine ventured out, both tanks fired their 76mm cannons in near unison. Both shells landed with authority, one hitting the side armor, and the other hitting the base of the cannon. After receiving two sudden hits, the Panzer IV stopped in its tracks, dark smoke was coming out from the front slit of the bow gunner. The hatch opened up and the crew were frantically exiting the smoking tank.
Shev had leveled the .30 and squeezed off a nice control of ten rounds a burst. The first burst got two Germans in the back. The second burst got a third German in both of his legs. Shev targeted the wailing cripple and squirted him out of his misery. Wilcox was proud. The kid really isn't a rookie no more.
The Wolverines circling the Panther fired a few more times and blew the Panther apart.
"Direct hit! Panther is history!" one of the Wolverines announced.
"Good job, boys. Two Panthers are down."
"Make that three," a boast came over the radio. "All tanks, this is Rex. 2nd Platoon and I tracked down a Panther. These boys are brave they rushed it with sticky bombs to disable it, and we took out that big bastard with several shots. We have three Panthers down!"
Wilcox was smiling, "Excellent news, Rex. All tanks regroup in the center of the line, we're going to push on with the rest of the company. We got four more Panthers to take out!"
Once more, the seven tanks were driving forward in a line formation, leading the entirety of Able Company who followed close behind. The company was traversing through an open field that would lead up to an incline in 100 meters. But the line of tanks saw a protruding cannon slowly emerge from behind the incline. Over the hill came a singular Panther that stopped at the top of the crest, the line of American tanks halted, taking precious aim, this was going to be an easy kill.
Shortly, a second Panther eclipsed the crest of the hill 20 meters away from the first. Then a third Panther arrived on the crest. The breath was still within Wilcox's chest. Lastly, a fourth Panther tank had climbed the incline and was stationed in formation next to the other tanks.
The four Panthers were standing brazenly on that hill, their armaments staring down at the Americans. And upon the left and right flanks of the Panther line were two Panzer IVs.
The Panzers were the first to drive down the decline, followed by two of the fours Panthers. The remaining two Panthers stayed on the crest of the hill.
As the German tanks ran down the hill, an entire platoon of Panzer Lehr infantry came dashing down the hill as well. None of the American tankers could believe what they were witnessing.
Jesus Christ, what the hell is this?!" Shaky Town radioed.
"Oh my God… It's a fucking blitz!" Hitler's Bane replied.
"They ain't waiting for us to pick 'em off one-by-one, they're coming for us with everything they got!" Wilcox yelled into the radio.
Christ, they should have expected this. Germany was finest army in the war that had mastered the concept of counterattacking. You think you would have the advantage, but then they would just rebound and push you back. Especially with their higher quality armored units.
Four Panthers, two Panzers, and an infantry platoon charging at them? Able's momentum had stopped dead.
MacKay and Crane ordered Able Company to get from behind the tanks and hunker down wherever they could and to fire on the infantry. The American tankers would have to sort out the Kraut armor themselves.
In numerical terms, it was 7-6 with Able Company possessing the extra tank. But the experienced tankers knew that with four Panthers, the odds were more in the Krauts' favor.
"What the hell do we do?!" Billy Boy asked in the radio.
Matthews' voice rang loud in the radio, "4th Cav! Shoot-and-scoot, goddammit! Shoot-and-scoot! On me! Knock out those Panthers!"
All five Wolverines took a shot at the two Panthers that were driving forward. Two of the shells hit the front armor of one tank, one shell ricocheted off the side armor of the other tank, and the last two shells had missed their target by a few meters. The Panthers and Panzers were still approaching.
Yet, the two Panthers that were rushing forward did not aim at the Wolverines, but their cannons were on Excalibur and Hitler's Bane, respectively. The Panthers fired their shells, hitting the front armor of the two Shermans, destroying the last of the sandbag protection that was tied to the front armor.
On the hill, the two stationary Panthers took aim at Billy Boy and fired at the Wolverine. Both shells penetrated the side armor and the turret was consumed in fire. The Wolverine ground to a lifeless halt.
6-6
Rex cursed over the radio, "Shit! They took out Billy Boy!"
Matthews growled, "Fucking bastards! C'mon Wolverines! Target those two Panthers coming at us! They're eager to die! Double envelopment!"
The four Wolverines converged on the Panthers, but when they stopped to take proper aim and keep a proper distance, the Panzers would fire at the Wolverines. Every time the Wolverines were trying to take a shot, the Panzers would swerve their turrets and fire to keep the Wolverines at bay.
Corporal Adrian looked to his sergeant, "Wilcox, what the hell do we shoot at?! The Panzers or the Panthers?!"
Fuck… fucking hell… Think, Shiloh, think! The Panthers are the biggest threat, but our guns are going to be shooting all day at these things! Think quicker! Quicker!
"Wilcox?! What are we going to do?!"
The Wolverines are going to have to take out the Panthers, but they can't focus with the Panzers blocking them! Goddamn it, if we focus on the Panzers' we're exposed to the Panthers…
"WILCOX!"
"Goddammit! Aim at the Panzers! The Wolverines need the chance to knock out the Panthers! Target the Panzers!"
Excalibur slanted right while Hitler's Bane slanted left. The Panzer was moving as fast as it could to catch up to the speedy Wolverines, it was troublesome for Adrian to get a good lock on it, but when he did, he announced it. At the last second, Wilcox noticed the charging Panther's cannon was tracking them, and he knew it was going to fire at the moving Excalibur.
"Shit! Grits, halt, halt, halt!"
Excalibur suddenly stopped right when the Panther fired, its shell missing mere yards from Excalibur. Wilcox didn't understand. Why the hell was that thing still going after him and not the Wolverines that were trying to fire at him?
The stationary tanks from the hill belched out their shells at the Wolverines. Wilcox could hear the screaming over the radio from Scythe, one of the Panthers fired once more, and Scythe exploded into a ball of fire.
"We lost Scythe!" Rex announced with a cry.
"Keep fighting!" Matthews roared.
5-6
My God… He saw it! Wilcox finally saw it! He saw the Germans' plan.
The two stationary Panthers at the top of the hill were basically snipers. They overlooked the field and took precious aim at the Wolverines who would stop moving to get a better aim at the tanks.
The two Panthers that were driving were the shock cavalry. They drive forward to intimidate and break through the lines. Their responsibility was to take out the two Shermans, Excalibur and Hitler's Bane. Once the more durable Shermans were destroyed, they would turn their attention on the Wolverines.
And the two Panzers who were quicker than the Panthers had the job as defenders. They were to flank the two moving Panthers and cover their backs. They were to keep the shoot-and-scoot Wolverines off the two Panthers until they took out the Shermans. And while the Panzers and the two moving Panthers were diversions, the stationary Panthers on the hill would pick off the tanks one-by-one. And with the distance the Panthers were keeping, along with the rushing Lehr platoon, that would keep the bazooka teams away from the tanks.
By God… Wilcox saw it all. His heart had wretched in fear.
"All tanks, this is Wilcox! I know what they're doing! I need every Wolverine to target the Panzers that are covering the Panthers. Take them out, you won't get a clear shot on the Panthers otherwise! I repeat, target the Panzer IVs.
"But the Panthers—"
"FUCK THE PANTHERS!" Wilcox hollered into his radio; it was so loud he heard the feedback on the other end. "Focus EVERYTHING on the Panzers!"
Matthews' voice came over the radio, "Son of a bitch, he's right! Wilcox is right, I know what he's talking about! Everyone do what he says and target the Panzers! Do whatever you have to do, just don't stop moving!"
"What do we do with these Panthers coming at us, Wilcox?!" Marco hollered.
"Shoot back, damn it. And let's play ring-around-the-rosies with these bastards!"
"Copy that!"
The three Wolverines that were converging on the hill quickly committed a U-turn and started moving on to the two Panzer tanks. Death Day, Rex, and Shaky Town made a V formation with Death Day in the lead, all three firing into the rear and side armor of one of the Panzer IVs. That Panzer didn't stand a chance with two side armor penetrations and a rear hit. It sputtered lifelessly, it's engine on fire.
5-5
"We got one! All right, boys! Split off and encircle the last Panzer!" Each tank went their separate way; however, the lone Panzer fired at Rex and scored a hit on the side armor, its tread came undone and it became a sitting duck. The stationary Panthers on the hill were lining Rex up.
"It got our tread!" Rex called out.
"Rex, the Panthers are targeting you, ditch the Wolverine!" Matthews ordered.
"No! We got sights on the last Panzer!"
"Rex! Please listen to me, Flannigan, get the hell out there now! Flannigan, abandon Rex!" Matthews pleaded.
"Take this, Fritz!" Sergeant Flannigan of Rex shouted defiantly.
Rex, with a broken tread, fired at the moving Panzer with due reparation, and immobilized the tank by hitting the treads. Death Day and Shaky Town circled around to that Panzer's rear, stopped to aim, and fired at once in the rear armor. The last Panzer was destroyed.
5-4
The two stationary Panthers then fired their cannons in rapid succession. The blast sent Rex's entire turret flying into the sky, the hull was wreathed in flames.
4-4
"Goddammit!" Matthews blubbered in a curse.
Wilcox was slapping the hull of the turret in frustration. They now had just two Shermans and two Wolverines left, all up against four Panthers.
At this moment, both Shermans were engaged with their respective Panthers. All of them were driving around in circles as fast as their vehicles would allow, sporadically firing and missing, each of them waiting for that golden moment to achieve victory over their stubborn foe.
Grits was sneering as he reversed the Sherman, "The son of a bitch is trying to get behind us!"
"Don't fucking let him!" Wilcox roared.
"I fucking know!"
"Keep reversing, Grits! Keep reversing!"
The Panther fired.
Wilcox could hear the whistling of the AP shell soaring a foot over his head. "CHRIST!" was the tank sergeant's instinctual reply. But what a reprieve he felt since that tank had missed them.
"Wilcox!" Adrian shouted, "We're still facing his front armor, it ain't goin' to do much!"
Wilcox's eyes were straining. All this dust, smoke, heat, sweat, and flashes were near blinding. But through agonized eyes, Wilcox noticed that Hitler's Bane was retreating backwards in an angle, and the Panther was following in that exact angle. Its side armor was exposed to Excalibur.
Wilcox radioed down, "Adrian, traverse left 400 meters, you see the Panther engaging Marco? Nail that bastard in its side."
The turret swiveled to the coordinates. Adrian was smiling, "I got 'em!"
Excalibur shot from across the field at the Panther's side armor that was chasing Hitler's Bane. The impact was successful, damage was done but the tank was still operational.
Marco radioed in, "I saw what you did, Wilcox! I got your back!"
This time, Hitler's Bane rotated its cannon, aiming across the field at the side armor of the Panther that was currently going after Excalibur. It fired and scored a solid hit against that Panther. The Panther stopped accelerating and began backing up. Wilcox smirked triumphantly.
"That's right fucker. Back the fuck away from us before—"
Excalibur's Panther fired a shell right against the front armor, the tank quaked hard. Steam was beginning to hiss within Excalibur. The crew inside were thrown hard within the interior.
Wilcox's skull was thumping, "Give me a report, Grits!"
"I felt the heat on that one, it nearly split us open! We can't take another hit!"
"I ain't going to allow that!" Adrian roared in fury. "Russo, load me another one!"
"I'm loading the AP!" Russo announced.
Wilcox stared down at the face of the Panther. It had stopped reversing and was now accelerating towards them. Something inside of his mind told him the truth, that it would take two more shots of the AP to actually do in the tank. And they didn't have that luxury nor time to fire two shots.
For the briefest of moments, he wiped the sweat off his face. The lose steam inside the tank was messing with the ventilation, it was getting hot. He only wished that those Krauts in the Panther were suffering ventilation troubles like his crew currently were. He hoped—wait… ventilation…
He recalled the effectiveness of the Willy Pete in enclosed spaces… so… what would happen if a WP shell went off in the face of the tank, and the smoke went into the ventilation? They would be suffocating within that thing, in addition of providing a smokescreen for Excalibur.
It was worth a shot.
"Russo, drop the AP and load the WP!"
"What?! Wilcox even if we blind that thing, it's still locked on to us!"
"Time's a factor, get it fucking loaded!"
Adrian looked to the Sergeant, "Wilcox, we need AP, not Willie Pete!"
"Trust me on this, I got a feeling we can take this bastard out!"
"You're nuts!"
"Load it, Russo!"
"Okay, Wilcox, it's loaded!"
"Adrian, aim for the turret, and fire!"
"Here we go… on the way!"
Adrian stepped on the electric floor trigger for the Sherman. Excalibur belched the round, a thick cloud of burning smoke emerged in the front of the tank as the shell blew, enveloping the entire tank.
"All right, Grits turn Excalibur 45 degrees left and lets flank!"
The Sherman started driving in an angle, but noticed that the Panther had stopped accelerating. Its cannon wasn't even following Excalibur. Excalibur was lining up a second shot at the side armor with an AP round loaded, when several of the hatches to the Panther suddenly opened up, white smoke exited the hatch with the German tankers jumping out in a panic, some of their clothes were caught by the phosphorus.
"Holy shit! It worked!" Adrian remarked jubilantly.
"I was right, the ventilation sucks up the smoke and they're suffocating within an already scorching tank. They get panicked too that their tank may be on fire and they bail out. Yes! One Panther down."
4-3
Wilcox radioed, "All tanks, Wilcox. Willie Pete is effective against Panthers! Aim right at the turret, ventilation sucks up the smoke and causes holy hell inside the tank."
"Fucking brilliant!" Marco chimed in.
Wilcox took a look in the rear. The infantrymen of Able Company were holding their ground behind a long mound, returning fire with the Germans in hiding in the long slit trench, in a stalemate reminiscent of World War 1. The bazookas were too far in the rear to be effective against the tanks. They had to advance, they had to get to that slit trench.
"All tanks, Wilcox here. You need to manage with the Panthers, we're going to support Able Company."
Wilcox got on the .50 cal, despite the incoming small-arms fire he was receiving. He radioed to his crew, "Able needs to get that trench and move closer to support us! Shev, splash them all down with the .30! Russo and Adrian, keep chugging the Willie Petes into that trench! Grits, drive on forward."
"They probably got Panzerfausts! And most likely anti-tank grenades!" the driver countered.
"That's a risk we're taking, the infantry needs us!"
Wilcox imagined himself as a medieval knight, riding beside King Arthur in a heavy cavalry attack. But their charge moving headlong into a spear wall—no, a wall of pikes, used to slaughter horsemen by the scores. This was danger incarnate. But it was the job of the cavalry to break through the lines for the infantry.
"Grits, give it all the gas, don't stop!"
"All right, if you say so!"
Wilcox thundered, "Excalibur! CHARGE!"
The tank traversed forward at full speed. The cannon fired its white phosphorus into the trench, as the .30 and .50 cal unleased a duet of murderous death against the occupiers of the trench. The bullets raked the bodies of the Germans who were standing and firing. Those that ducked and hid in the trench could not escape the burning and choking of the thick cloud of phosphorus. And with no wind present, the cloud stayed over the trench. Some of them scattered out of the trench to escape, only to be cut down by Excalibur.
Some Germans lobbed their AT grenades and they fell short of their mark. But one Panzerfaust crew aimed their deadly missile straight for Wilcox's .50 cal. The missile fired and slammed into the turret. The blast blinded Wilcox, he slid down into the hull. Russo checked him and yelled his name. Wilcox recovered several moments later. He looked around and saw a rupture within the turret hull, but the cannon was still operational, and the rupture did not look too severe. Wilcox got back out through the hatch and started opening fire again. Excalibur was right on top of the remnants of the platoon, who all decided it was best to fall back. With Jerry leaving, the men of Able were charging to seize the trench. Within twenty seconds, that trench would be property of Able Company.
"Shit! They got a direct hit on me!" came over the radio.
Wilcox quickly seized the comm, "Who is this? Who got hit?"
"It's Shaky Town! They got us good!" came the sergeant, he sounded in tears. "Bastards killed Tommy and Blake!"
Wilcox could see Shaky Town; it was about fifty meters away from one of the stationary Panthers on the hill. Its engine was on fire and its hull was split from the side. Death Day was trying to circle around the other Panther on the hill, but that one decided it was best not to stand still and started moving in a circle. Both tanks were engaged in a circular dance to land the decisive blow. But the lone stationary Panther was setting for the final blow against the immobilized Wolverine.
Wilcox bellowed in the radio, "Shaky Town, you gotta dismount, now!"
The last word he said was lost within the Panther firing. Shaky Town was shredded within a bright light.
3-3
Wilcox was furiously clenching his radio. He had to do something against those fucking Panthers. However, so much was going on at the same time, that Wilcox had failed to spot it.
The Panther that had been engaging Hitler's Bane took a call out of Wilcox's playbook. It switched targets to the now still Excalibur and it took considerable aimed.
It fired.
All Wilcox heard through the deafening battlefield was the audible tearing of metal. It was a screech of an ancient Greek monster, perhaps Medusa that screamed at its victims. The screech that could rupture eardrums and was sharper than nails on a chalkboard.
His soul left his body at the realization of what that screeching metal and sudden heat by his legs meant. Penetration…
He lowered his body down the hatch. Black smoke was emanating from within Excalibur. It was so thick, everyone present was coughing.
"Boys!" he shouted in concern. The smoke was suffocating, yet through it he could hear screaming. To the right, he could see someone thrashing wildly covering his face as he screamed bloody murder.
"I CAN'T SEE! MY EYES!"
"Who is that?!" Wilcox coughed. His hand was trembling as he asked.
"Calm down! Shev! You need to calm down!" Grits was saying to his assistant driver. Grits was out of his seat and holding the flailing kid in place.
Through the smoke, Wilcox could spot one of the tubes and wires were busted, sending boiling steam into the face of Shev, along with several sparks from jagged wiring. On top of that, a six-inch long hole was right between Grits and Shev, the penetrating shell. Adrian was trying frantically to put out a fire and Russo was assisting him.
Adrian noticed Wilcox, "The Panther's round ignited one of the shells! It also knocked out the controls for the cannon!"
Grits turned around to his Sergeant, "Wilcox! Shev got it in the face! He needs to get out of here!"
"What the fuck do we do, Sergeant?!" Russo desperately cried out.
Time seemed to have frozen for the tank sergeant. Never before in the war has this happened… Never has his mighty steed been wounded so fatally… His great warhorse, his great partner.
Excalibur…. My Excalibur… m-my men… my men!
Wilcox screamed his order, "Everyone out! Get out of Excalibur now!"
His loyal steed… so many adventures he had in this tank… "Open the hatches! Everyone out now!" The French girls he slept with inside this tank… "Grits! Pull Shev through the driver hatches, hurry!" The drunken revelry he and the crew celebrated inside this tank…
Wilcox climbed out of the main hatch and peered his head down into the tank to yell, "Get out! Get out!" The black smoke was rising in his face, but he saw a hand penetrate the smoke to escape the burning death trap.
Wilcox pulled Russo's arm up and helped him out of the main hatch. Russo leapt off the tank and was running towards Able Company in the slit trench. The driver hatches opened up and Grits climbed out of his hatch and moved to the assistant driver's hatch, remarkably pulling out the still screaming Shev out. The poor kid was still covering his face as he yelled in agony.
Small-arms fire was ricocheting off the tank. Grits and Shev fell off the tank, but Grits quickly bounded to his feet and guided Shev to run for his life. Wilcox saw the Krauts that were firing at them. A perverse fury encompassed him.
YOU BASTARDS!
He got on the .50 and fired with every intention to expend every bullet that was in the feed. He was screaming as he was firing, he caught two Germans in the chest and kept firing. He didn't even take a pause in the firing of his bursts. Rage had blocked out his reasoning.
Adrian interrupted his firing, coming up through the main hatch. "Wilcox! Russo is out, and I helped Grits get Shev out! We need to leave now!"
"Get out! I'll buy you time!"
"No, damn it! You're coming with me! Let's go!"
"No, I ain't abandoning Excalibur! Get out of here, Adrian!"
This tank. Excalibur. It was truly one of a kind.
Adrian snarled and grabbed Wilcox's jacket with both hands and yelled in his nose, "Goddammit, Wilcox! You told me that if a knight's horse dies, he still fights on. Do not die with your horse, Shiloh!"
The red cloud around Wilcox's eyes began to lift. He fully noticed Adrian's presence, and his words. He was right. It was the knight's duty to complete the mission, come hell or highwater. Even if it meant… leaving his dying steed.
Upon blasting Excalibur, the Panther had initially believed he took it out of action. But seeing someone on the M2 firing an unending cascade of bullets, got its attention. This time, the Panther was determined that there would be nothing left of that tank.
Seeing the cannon of the Panther revolving towards him, fear had finally broken through Wilcox.
Both Wilcox and Adrian jumped off the tank. They fell back to the trench thirty yards behind them that Able Company was occupying. Grits and Doc Conrad were tending to Shev's burned face, Russo was waving for them to hurry back. Both men jumped into the ditch. Once their feet hit the trench floor, an echoing explosion went off behind them.
By God, did Wilcox not want to turn around, but a phantasm force compelled him to look. The once noble M4 Sherman, the great Excalibur, was now a flaming wreck. Its turret was off it's axis, the cannon limply was buried into the dirt. A great bonfire was emanating from the hull, thick plumes of black smoke were dancing in the air.
Wilcox could hear the urgency in MacKay's voice as he yelled in the radio, "We are facing a heavy presence of armor, we are losing Wolverines and Shermans, I request support! We cannot hold! I request support, over!"
Sergeant Duck was near Wilcox and he slapped his back, "Wilcox, thank God you and your boys got out of there when you did!"
But Wilcox did not pay attention to the C.O's radio call, nor Duck's concerning remark. All that had his attention was the burning husk of his pride and joy.
A Panther had fired at Hitler's Bane with an audible boom. That snapped Wilcox out of his trance. Marco's tank was still standing, but it couldn't take too many hits. Meanwhile, the lone Death Day was in frantic reverse, now that the two Panthers on the hill were targeting him.
And here Wilcox was, utterly useless. His eyes went hollow, the world around him was losing its color. His holy weapon had been shattered. He had failed his noble charge.
2-3
I enjoyed writing this chapter, but I admit, I'm not the savviest when it comes to armored warfare. I'm more knowledgeable with the infantry.
I hope I did this chapter justice.
It was interesting research the methods in which the Wolverines would take out enemy tanks, including actually using white phosphorus to disable them from the inside thanks to the Panther's poor ventilation.