Jeder und Panzer

Guest Chapter! IV – Snow Drift

"We are born of the cold, and yet our heart knows only warmth. That is the paradox of life." – Kliment Degtyarev

You never saw this blizzard coming, one minute you were on your way to see your best friend aboard Pravda's academy ship, the next you're looking out into a wall of falling snow going at least fifty knots. You can hardly see the lights of the strip mall directly across the street. There are no cars going around, and the buses aren't running, which means you're stuck right where you are with nowhere to go.

That's where you see her, a tall brown haired girl dressed in the school uniform of the girls' high school with a thick wool overcoat on with specks of snow melting away into small droplets. She has a fur cap on as well and she takes it off, letting her long brunette hair spill down over her shoulders and absent-mindedly strokes it down. The first thing you truthfully notice is her regal beauty, she holds herself with a stoic grace befitting a Czarina, and she certainly would looks great in that attire. But you see where this train of thought may lead and you immediately stop your mind in its tracks. But the hot rush of blood into your cheeks causes you to look away, as you usually did whenever an attractive girl of your own age was around.

You see her walk up to the flight list on the wall and stop. She is looking at the digital screen showing the list of flights and arrival times on it. In front of every one of them is the word "Delayed" and she seems quite irritated by that word.

She must be waiting for someone as well, you immediately think to yourself, if only my own friend did that.

You leave the thought alone as you feel a slight disturbance in your belly. You hadn't eaten at all on the long flight from home, airline food is way too expensive. But you see an open coffee shop off to your right which is mostly full of girls of mostly the same age as the tall brunette you'd noticed earlier. Many have their bags with them, fresh from off of a plane ride to start school in a few weeks. So you carefully navigate your way to the counter and order a hot chocolate and a few slices of freshly baked black bread, which is a real specialty on Pravda's ship.

There are looks from the girls around you accompanied by a few giggles that are quite obviously directed at you make you a bit uneasy. It was the first time you'd seen such a lopsided male-to-female ratio in your own favour. After all, this was the girls high school branch of your own school, Pravda Boys High School, so you might be the first boy of their age they'd seen in quite a while. But you'd always been shy around girls, and being in the presence of so many girls forces you, subconsciously, to take the only available booth built right next to the window. The window is, by now, just a façade of caked on snow and ice from the howling blizzard which makes you cherish the hot chocolate in your hands all the more.

You take a few tentative sips of your hot chocolate and reach for a slice of the black bread and butter a slice and took a bite. As you chewed the bite of uniquely tasty delight you could feel a presence next to you. At first you think that one of the girls in the café is there to ask a question or two at the request of one their friends. But when you look up you see that a familiar face is looking down at you.

"Is this seat taken?" the girl asks, her face completely stoic and unemotional.

"Uh, yes."

Your response is one of surprise, why would she want to sit here?

But you look around and you see that all the other spots are taken. You had snagged the last empty table in the little coffee shop. She nods in acknowledgement and sets her own cup of hot chocolate on the table and pulls out a magazine with a tank on the cover, a tank you recognize as an M4 Sherman. And the only reason you know is because your big sister had been on Pravda's Sensha-dou team and graduated several years ago. She'd been quite an ecstatic prophet for the most famous of the battle sports and you couldn't help but absorb a few things over the years.

You can't help but feel the uncomfortable awkwardness of sitting at the same table as the tall brunette. You don't have your own book or magazine, and your phone has no service because of the snow storm outside. So there's only one thing you can do, might as well talk to the only person at the table with you.

"So…are you on the Sensha-dou team?"

Without putting the magazine down she replies, "Yes."

Another uncomfortable moment passes before you try again.

"Are you uh…waiting for someone?"

"Yes," she states again, not putting the magazine down.

"Well I'm waiting for a friend. He was supposed to pick me up but then this storm came around. I've never seen a storm like this."

"It happens from time to time, especially this far north," she says, this time lowering the magazine and looks at the white faced window, "Are you not from Pravda Boys High School?"

You look down at your olive green woollen coat with a red four-pointed star on your collar and you see why she would think that. Pravda students have to be fairly hardy because of the normal northern placement of the two ships' respective patrol routes like all ships tend to have.

"Oh yeah, it's my first year," you respond.

"It's mine as well," the young girl responds, "I'm Nonna," she states as she holds out her hand.

"Ivan, nice to meet you."

"What's that patch?" Nonna asks you, pointing at the newly added patch that shows a pair of crossed rifles with the Pravda insignia behind it. It's your only visible proof to being on the Combat Team, the boys' equivalent to Sensha-dou. It's basically an advanced paintball match with simunitions loaded into specially crafted replica weapons of the World War Two era. You had already gone to the two-a-days getting into shape for the team and have seen your first scrimmage against St. Gloriana's, a match your team won, but that's beside the point.

"Oh, I'm on the Combat Team," you respond with no small amount of pride laced through your voice, "My first year."

"Mine as well, we haven't had our first practice yet, the weather you understand."

You nod, knowing first-hand what she meant. The snow was still coming down by the ton outside, and you try to think of some way to continue the conversation so you decide to continue with the Tankery subject.

"What exactly happens with you girls and tanks? I never really understood what the appeal is for girls to use tanks for sport," you ask.

Nonna looks at you with a face that says, you really don't know? But then she furrows her brow in thought, as if she too didn't know exactly.

"I suppose it really depends. Some girls believe that it makes you a better woman, or a better mother, or a better wife. Others just want the thrill of such an activity as Sensha-dou."

"And you?" you ask, noticing she didn't say why she had chosen the sport.

"Me? Oh I suppose it's because of Katyusha," Nonna shrugged.

"And who's Katyusha?" you inquire, taking ever more interest in this beauty sitting before you.

"My best friend, she wanted to join because of the feeling of power and importance she got from being in such a tank. We're assigned to the KV-2, and she really likes it because of how tall it is. You see she hasn't exactly had it easy, it's kind of how Katyusha and I became friends, with me looking out for her."

The slight sorrow on her face as she says this intrigues you, and you can't help but feel that same feeling right along with her. But you don't know this girl Katyusha, you have no reason to pity her. What is it about Nonna that can make you feel this way just through a snippet of a conversation.

"What's wrong with your friend? Is she sensitive about stuff?"

"Katyusha isn't exactly the tallest girl around, and growing up she was made fun of by the other girls, especially during games, she'd be picked last, people would shun her, and worse just making fun of her size day in day out, the poor thing," Nonna whispers, gently toying with the cup of cocoa in her hands.

"I know how that feels, I suppose everyone has experienced it at some point," you say, keeping your voice at a respectful tone.

"Not like Katyusha," Nonna says sternly, looking you dead in the eyes, like a mother defending her child.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-," you stutter.

"No, it's alright, I find myself doing that sometimes. Me acting like Katyusha's mom, I have gotten so used to being there for her, even if she isn't around to hear."

"You're a good friend, I would assume you're here waiting for her then?"

"Yes, Katyusha had to attend her sister's wedding. She's a bit of a heavy packer and she'll need me to help get her bags back to her room."

"Oh, I see," you respond.

The conversation sort of dies right there with neither of you really knowing what to say. It seemed obvious to you she wasn't much of a talker, and the current conversation was more than likely the most she'd talked in a long time. It was also the longest conversation you've had with a girl your own age in quite a while. So once the current topic dried up that unbearable silence enveloped both you and Nonna. You twitter your thumbs around your cup and look down into your hot chocolate, seeing the light brown liquid was definitely starting to cool off and soon wouldn't be all that great to taste so you take a quick sip.

"Why do you boys join Combat Teams?" Nonna asks, "What is it that appeals to you boys?"

You hear it, and open your mouth to answer, but then you think about it a moment. The promotional videos never really said anything aside from strength, toughness, and leadership were learned by those who joined. Others did it for the thrill, and still more did it because of the idiom "girls love a man in uniform" which was why you had done it. But you can't say that to Nonna!

"Well, I guess it depends on the guy. They said in the intro video that it teaches strength, toughness, and leadership, which I suppose it does. I mean we carry a ton of stuff into each match, my rucksack alone is like sixty pounds and then I still have my rifle and ammo, an entrenching tool, four grenades, a smoke grenade, and we rotate carrying the extra boxes of spare ammunition. Then we actually get hit with simunitions of many different sizes, and I'll tell you one thing, they hurt if they don't knock you out."

"I heard about that. Is it true that you boys start to develop a resistance to the effects of your weapons?" Nonna asked, her eyes starting to twinkle as she becomes incredibly interested in the correct topic. You halfway sigh in relief, you don't want to sit in silence with her, especially after already having a fairly decent conversation with her.

"Well I don't know about that. We only had one scrimmage, and you don't really see the enemy as you see flashes, I mean unless it gets close quarters or you get them caught in the open. But there are some seniors on the team who were able to take some shots."

"Were you hit?" Nonna asks, leaning forward with intrigue written all over her face.

"Yeah I was," you chuckle remembering the half dozen welts on your legs from when you got hit running across a street from cover to cover, "Someone with a PPSH lit me up when I was running across a street. I've got the bruises to prove it."

"So they do leave marks?" Nonna states, more of a question than an epiphany.

"Yeah, well if they were downsized they wouldn't be able to knock someone out like they're supposed to, and if they were slowed down they would be about as accurate as a nerf gun."

Nonna giggled slightly, her hand shooting to her mouth to stifle the slightly girly outburst. You try not to notice it, as it seems she didn't mean for it to come out.

"Are…are you any good? On your team I mean?" Nonna inquires, having regained her composure.

"Well I was good enough to get immobilized for the round. My legs were sore for several days. But I guess I'm average, it's my first year doing it so I suppose I'll earn a few battle scars along the way. At least I'm not like my platoon leader, oh man he's a bullet magnet," you laugh, remembering the numerous times that junior had gotten plastered with simunition.

"Doesn't sound like he's much of a platoon leader," Nonna observes.

"Oh no he's awesome don't get me wrong, he's just been hit so many times that he's developed quite a resistance to it. Our commander said it's like an inadvertent way to level the playing field but give the older members an advantage at the same time. If you're not all that good at not getting hit you develop a resistance and it takes more to bring you down. But if you're really skilled and have been hit much less it doesn't take that much to bring you down."

"Hmm…clever, if only there were such devices in Tankery," Nonna says pleasantly, seeing the advantages with that, "If that were the case Anzio would be unstoppable."

She laughs at her own joke slightly and you chuckle as well, but you don't quite understand the exact connotations. Your scrimmage had been against Anzio, and they were a tough nut to crack and bloodied your team fairly proficiently. But she must know something you don't, but you play along as if you know anyway. But you can't help but ask anyway.

"But you'd still beat them right? I mean I know your tanks are pretty good but I have to confess, I don't know a thing about Anzio."

"Well, those poor girls are so outclassed, there hasn't been a year when they advanced beyond the second round. Their tanks are hardly worthy of being called tanks, most are small tankettes with machine guns, and the few real tanks they have can barely penetrate their own thin armor much less that of a T-34 or a Sherman, much less the Tigers or Panthers that Kuromorimine uses so well."

"Can't help but feel sorry for them huh?" you observe.

"They and a few others, some schools just have trouble bringing themselves to adopt tanks that aren't of their adopted nation's design or historical use. The burden of pride I've heard it called."

"Nonna!" a voice calls out from outside of the café, and both you and Nonna turn to see the source. What you see you can't help but laugh a bit at.

A quite short young blonde girl in a woollen coat is walking down the hallway. She's got blue eyes like Nonna's and her face is one of concern and slight anxiety as she looks around, scanning the room for her friend. She's got a bulging backpack that goes practically to her thighs on and is dragging two large rolling bags with another bag hanging from her shoulder.

"I guess that's Katyusha?" you ask, knowing the answer.

"Yes, that's her," she says, with a sad tone to her voice you weren't expecting. She then gets up after finishing her hot chocolate, "It was nice talking with you Ivan, oh," she stops, and grabs one of your napkins and takes out a pen and writes down a phone number, "Call me."

"Oh, um…I will, thank you Nonna," you respond, a surge of pride coursing through you. You just got her number, it's not a kiss, but for just meeting her, not bad. You watch her walk out to greet Katyusha, who immediately beams in joy at not being stood up and Nonna immediately takes the bag hanging from her shoulder along with one of the rolling bags. As she leaves she waves slightly behind her and you can clearly her say.

" Do svidanya!"

You don't need anyone to tell you who she was waving to.

Author's Notice:

As you can see, I have fixed the DocX problems with this chapter.

This here is Big Z1776's chapter.

Originally, he wanted to write a chapter for Erwin, I told him that he couldn't as I wanted to get the list from chapter 2 out of the way, and at the time I was working on Aquitaine - that was meant to be longer, but that would take more effort out of me than I'd have liked, and without effort I give up on things - though I told him I was also asked to write a Nonna chapter.

He asked if he could write that, and I said sure. I'm glad I did so, really, even though I personally won't likely include many - if any - infantry elements in the story, due to me dealing primarily on armoured warfare, rather than infantry. It's worded to a standard I find more than acceptable, and while I personally dislike the love at first sight thing, I think it works here rather nicely. That's hypocrisy on my part, in a way, as if you take away the backstory from chapter 1, you get what surmounts to a love at first sight thing.

Among other news this week, I recently fond out that there is a dub of GuP. I watched a few episodes - they're not to my tastes, but I was surprised to hear Asuka Langely Soryu there. It's been a good while since I watched Evangelion.

Also, I've been thinking of trying out Warthunder - though I'll probably just use it to test out tanks. I hear it has a more bearable minimum graphics setting than WoT.

Speaking of which, WoT no longer works for me - my frames died and the graphics card built into my laptops processor was on the verge of combusting in 9.2. So I won't be able to play in 9.3, which is sad as my parting memories will be of the Hellcats and KV-1S dominating every single game I played to remind myself of tier 5. With my funding rather sparse, I won't be able to upgrade any time soon.

The tank that would have been introduced in this chapter in my old draft before it was deleted, would have been the Kliment-Voroshilov 220. Another mediocre premium with the potential for greatness in the right hands.

Post-publishing Editorial: After consulting the Sensha-dou rules once again, I have come to realise that the Löwe (which, if you're new to German, is pronounced 'loo-veh') is not alegal tank. The Löwe and its gun never got past the design paper stage - there were six designs, the most practical and tank looking being the Schwere 'heavy' version you see in WoT.

In regards to this, I have chosen a much more real tank, in the form of the Panzerjäger Tiger Ausf. B- replete with its overly complicated gun. Yes, that is a more legal tank, and yes, it has all the handicaps of a Königstiger, and more.

Special thanks to the following people for reminding me both to re-read the rules, and reminding me they actually posted them on the internet:

TK3997

ErwinYukari.