Viewpoint Sierra, 16:07 Local

As our tank finally touched down hard, with a thud, I quickly opened my commander's hatch, allowing the smell of fresh, sea air into the interior, and observed our surrounding. We had landed, although at an angle, almost perfectly on a road, while around us there were short, compressed apartments and other buildings, with a sleek modern style unlike the dusty, ancient buildings of home. While all around us people were going along on their daily business, a few glancing at our tank as they past.

"This is a nice little coastal town." I said, mostly to myself. The chute was stirring in the slight breeze that was blowing by, lifting it off the ground and obstructing the view ahead of us. I asked inside of anyone had a knife of any sorts. Captain shuffled around in his seat for a moment and then produced a small pocketknife. I reached down and took it, I thanked him and then lifted myself out and onto the cold steel of the tank. As I sat there, I heard, very faintly over the din of the crowd, the sound of a engine starting up, and then another, and another. Such a sound was somewhat disconcerting, but I ignored it, and blamed it on the aircraft, which was still visible above, although only a speck, for I needed to disconnect the parachute before it became tangled with anything or caused trouble. I opened the knife and started to go to work on cutting the dozen or so straps that held the parachute to the tank and the tank to the platform along its sides while balancing on top of our bags, the endeavor forced me to keep my head down, unable to pay attention to my surroundings. I kinda wished the knife was serrated too, it was have great difficulty digging itself onto the cloth of the straps. After I finished about half the ropes, I looked up to find the previously lively streets were now almost empty, and a young child, likely around the age of ten, standing and watching with a expression of interest in my actions. Her eyes darted to the knife and she took a step away. I smiled, hoping that would calm her, gave her a little, three fingered salute, to which she copied to me, and continued to give me an expression of intrigue, I then continued to work on the rope. I was almost done when I looked up again, to find the child being tugged away by her parent, much to the child's active chagrin, her expression one of her wishing to be helped in her predicament. I decided to not get too involved and give her another little salute, to which she reciprocated with the hand which was not being hauled off. It also seemed that the engine noise had grown louder, but when I looked up, there was no airplane above, but I decided, again, to ignore the sound. As I finished the last of the ropes, the parachute came free of the tank, all of the straps snapping past me, and the chute swirling in the air like a giant jellyfish away from the tank and on down the street. As it passed a intersection a few hundred yards from us, a tank swung out of the side street on the left, stopped and traversed towards the billowing main chute. But before it faced completely away from us, it stopped, paused, and begun rotating again, this time towards us. I tried to make out what type of vehicle it was, but the distance was too great for my eyes. I continued to kneel upon one of the gunny sacks strapped to the back of the Stuart for a moment before rising, and sliding onto the turret.
"We're free of the chute, however, we may have some company. Salt, can you check what make and model it is?" I called, while causally loading the M3's main cannon almost out of habit. Salt, who was still wasn't wide awake, replied through an oncoming yawn.

"Looks like a Panzer 38. Weapons free?"

"Not yet." I stated somewhat caught off guard by his question, while struggling to slam the gun's breech closed. "Rules of engagement are don't fire unless I say so with what I say so. You got it?"

"Yessir!" Replied Adley with great vigor. I had almost forgot that he was in control of a ball-mounted machine gun. Who thought it was smart to give somebody who can't work a radio right a machine gun?

"Whatever." Salt sounded dejected,

"Sad about not getting to kill anything?" I laughed, toying with him, which probably not the best idea.

"Ah hell to you!" he retorted. Without removing his vision from the eyepiece, he kicked me with his booted foot, a little harder then I would have exactly liked, especially since I was trying to hand Captain his very sharp knife. Captain took the knife and thanked me, before placing it in one of his hip pocket. Salt kicked me again, now trying to attract my attention.

"Hey, hey, I got some movement downrange!" Salt announced. I found the eyepiece, and began examining through my periscope the tank I had seen outside. It was a Panzer 38(t) alright, and unusual one at that. It was neon yellow, making it almost painful to look at with the sun reflecting off of it, with something that appeared like a insignia on the side of its turret, although the details of it were still masked by distance. It had traversed itself so it was now facing directly at us, as we were to it from a distance of about three hundred yards. We sat there for a moment, just at a stand-off. Then I remembered something.

"Captain, turn the engine over." I asked, looking from the periscope down to Captain into the dark cabin. It was common sense to check to see whether our engine was still functional after we sustained such an impact, plus, why shouldn't we? Then again, I guess the whole load the cannon first, ask questions later mentality wasn't exactly the best way to handle this situation. Regardless, Captain pressed the ignition, the M3's radial aircraft engine revving a moment before it died. "Captain." I repeated, sounding irritated.

"I'm trying" Captain growled, turning the engine over again. It revved for a moment before there was a crack like a gunshot as the engine backfired, hard and loud, the engine coughing a couple of times before turning over, and then went into a low idle. Suddenly there was a second loud crack and then a sound like nails on a chalkboard that lasted for only a split-second, then a quiet thud, of something hitting the ground off to the side of us. The tank was completely quiet, save for the rattle of the engine. Adley was the first to speak.

"Did they just-"

"Yep." I cut him off before he could finish. They had fired, and the shot had ricocheted off of us. I could hear the sounds of the turret rotating as Salt refined his aim on the opposing tank.

"Salt. Rules of engagement." I said, irritated. Silence. "Salt. Salt."

"Cool yourself. I'm not gonna fire, I'm only gonna aim." He said, his face still glued to the gunsight. I felt uneasy about Salt training a gun at a unknown tank, especially since said gun was loaded. Although they had fired they didn't make any attempt to move, the Panzer just sitting at range and I hoped it was just an accident they fired at us. I hoped. Another few seconds passed.

"Captain, straighten out and then ahead slow." I commanded, not moving from the periscope, hoping to force their hand, and see whether that round had been launched in anger, watching for the telltale muzzle flash of another. It didn't take long for one to appear, as Captain traversed us slightly, paused, and then began forward at a walking pace.

This time I felt a surge of adrenaline with the whizzing of the shot as it went by, followed by an explosion behind us as the Panzer's shell missed.

"Captain, full speed ahead!" I yelled, eyes still glued to the jostling eyepiece. Captain responded immediately, a swell of engine noise that forced me to yell to be heard was accompanied by the tank lurched forward with acceleration. "Salt?!" I yelled again.

"Yessir!" He responded.

"Track 'em, but don't fire until I give the order! Same with you Adley!"

"Yessir!" They replied in unison. Salt took complete command of the Stuart's turret, turning it slightly so it was lined up with the Panzer. We were only a about about two hundred yards distant now, and the Panzer had started reversing slowly, but its gun was still training in on us. I continued to wait, planning to unleash hell once we had sufficiently closed the gap with machine guns blazing, since our cannon shells would likely ricochet off the front if it was reasonably armored, and although the machine guns wouldn't cause much if any damage, but would give the occupants an awful scare and allow us to get alongside them or behind them, where our 37 millimeter shell would go through them like butter. Hundred and fifty yards out. I opened the commander's hatch and stood up into it, the sounds of the tank intensified even further, compounded by the wind whipping past me.

"Captain, pull up and stop beside them. Rest of you are MG's free!" I yelled into the interior. Without a moment to spare, the two machine guns thundered into life, covering the Panzer 38 in flickers of light from ricocheting bullets, while a tinkle was heard below as the casings were ejected from the guns and bounced about. Although we were beyond the range where richoties could be dangerous, I could still hear as rounds buzzed past me on their return journey. The Panzer came to an abrupt halt, the crew surely in total disarray. Perfect. "Cease fire! Cease fire!" I yelled into the cabin below, silencing the machine guns as quickly as they had begun and finishing the lightshow on the front of the still unanimated Panzer 38. We glided up to the left side of it, the engine quieting down to a loud purr and coming to almost a full stop, Salt beginning to traverse the turret towards the Panzer as I had instructed, hoping to blow right through the side of their turret. But, before we could fully train onto their side, I instinctively began scanning our surroundings. I lucky that I did, for down the street that the 38 (t) had came from, three, count 'em, three tanks were approaching, although in the heat of action I couldn't really identify them, save for the M3 Lee, due to its unique profile. All three of these tanks had halted the moment they saw us, and were likely lining up a shot at us at that moment. I howled down into the interior, not a moment to lose. "Captain, step on it!" Instantly, the Stuart launched ahead, shooting pass the sideroad and the Panzer, before halting again. As we did, I heard two horrendous concussions, one right after the other, causing me to spin about to find the source as the Stuart came to a stop again. The Panzer 38(t) had been hit, and was now encompassed by a massive cloud of dust and smoke. I almost lost my balance when the Stuart started once more, but slower this time, and I, ignoring the incapacitated Panzer 38, kept my head on a swivel looking for any new threats. The Stuart had gathered a considerable amount of steam and distance from the crippled Panzer 38 before I noticed one of the tanks, which I now realized was a German STuG III, had rounded the corner and was now probably lining up a shot on us with that nasty gun it had. I had no intentions of staying around long enough for them to get a shot in. I looked ahead of us and found that we were approaching another intersection. I decided that we would turn right, removing us from the STuG's line of fire and hoping to outflank the all three of these vehicles from behind. Tactical genius. I dropped back down into the turret, closing the hatch with me and shouted "Captain, I want a hard turn to the right on my mark!" He turned from his view slit and gave me a look that implied disbelief, however it quickly disappeared and he turned back around. I guess that the fact that Captain gave me such a look should have been a red flag about the maneuver I had asked him to perform, but I, under the influence of adrenaline, was blind to any risks regarding sharp turns. Turns that could be extremely dangerous for top-heavy vehicles with narrow bases moving quickly. A vehicle like a top-heavy M3 Stuart at speed. "Mark!" I shouted, bracing myself against the incoming turn. I heard the right tread stop, causing the tank to swing around sideways and a terrible screech as the tank slide sideways from its speed, which was expected, and began to tip over, which was not. This momentum continued, forcing the tank farther over and after what seemed like an eternity, till the tank keeled over onto its side. There was a horrible jarring as the tank slammed onto its side, still moving at a decent clip. There was a terrible screeching as the tank skidded across the ground on its side, before stopping in a cloud of dust. I felt completely disoriented, my ears ringing like church bells, while I rested on the cool steel, which was still fidgeting from the motion of the engine.

"Oliver, you good?" I heard Salt inquire, jabbing my leg with his booted foot. I replied with a quiet yes and felt a painful stinging sensation on my forehead and something hot running along the length of my right brow as I had bumped my head against something before coming to rest on the turret's side, and had got a bad scrape or something another, but I had bigger things to worry about.

"I'm good. Adley, are you ok?" I grumbled, pulling myself off the steel, and half falling, half sitting on the rear of the turret.

"Nothing broken." He replied, coughing from the dust that swirled about the cabin.

"Captain?" I spoke more assertively this time.

"Same." He acknowledged, his demeanor as calm as ever "But I fear our tank may not be in such a fine condition." At this his voice pitched up slightly, as if in amusement as he terminated the engine's heavy, loud purring, the tank finally coming to rest.

"Well, it's on its side for starters." Salt laughed, whipping his neckerchief off his neck, shoving it into one of his hip pockets and righting himself so he stood on the turret's wall, forcing me to share a very limited space with him and the expelled machine gun casings scattered all around. And we still had a live round in the breach of our main cannon to boot. His face suddenly turned serious "Not to alarm you or anything, but you've got a pretty gnarly gash on your face." Salt pointed out, tapping his forehead to show the location of my laceration, as if I would have trouble finding it. The wound wasn't too bad and the blood only made it about as far as my temple before stopping, it didn't even qualify as anything more than a really bad paper cut.

"It's nothing too major, anyway, everyone, dismount!"

"Don't have to tell me twice." Grumbled Adley as he opened the driver's hatch. I then proceeded to push open the sideways commander's hatch and crawl head first through it.