"Hey."
No acknowledgement.
"Hey."
Still nothing.
"Bitchass, are you gonna keep clicking that thing or what?"
"What? You want some?"
"I'd rather you not jeopardise our position."
A weighty sigh escaped my lips. Though, I probably shouldn't have let it. Breathy noises in such times like these let out a large cloud, although considering we weren't being shot at, it wasn't a fatal mistake.
He was always like that, just, calmly retorting in whatever ways he wanted. Honestly he could be such a piece of work.
"Noah just put it away for fucks sake."
At least this time, he acknowledged my request. Though not before using it to light the end of the paper that he had just rolled up a moment ago in the dark, pouring god knows what into it. You could see the tar and char within the fire, lit warmly by the burning light, and with quite the amount of smoke rising. A million times more than my new second, more exhausted sigh made.
"Hey." I could now at least see his face, thanks mainly to the lamp he had just made, protruding from his mouth. "I gotta calm my nerves somehow."
I would wish he would just fold sometimes. His relaxed laid back attitude was welcome in stressful situations, but those 'good vibes only' thoughts certainly didn't help in this instance. Nevertheless, without a care in the world, he took another puff and stroked his shaven beard.
"Well, our surprise is now ruined. Big target on our backs, huh." I turned away and into my binoculars. Ahead of us was our target, who ironically had a similar problem, though it seemed to be with a vape instead of some freshly rolled joint. The smoke could be seen for miles, but without a light, I couldn't quite make anything out, with or without glasses. Though the smoke did seem to just stop. Guess they talked some sense into the living target, but a bit too late.
On the other hand, next to us, we have Noah, the massive ass stick, in excess of six foot, with half of their person sticking out of the top of their commander's cupola, holding in their hands what as far as I was concerned amounted to nothing more than a massive torch, lighting their figure and the top of their tank up. That was probably the worst of it, to be honest, considering the their vehicle was, at face value, the most important of the company, if not the entire team.
Over the intercom, a screech came out.
"This is Lynval One to Glen One, Lynval One to Glen One do you receive, over."
I raised my handheld microphone up, all the channels already preset, and spoke.
"Glen One to Lynval One, crystal clear, over." This was my job. The comms, not really the binoculars part. That fell with my commander, who was fast asleep after sharing a couple of bottles in the afternoon with the massive 'kick me' sign next to us, so it lay with me to take his duties, until the time was right to kick his balls awake.
Okay I know I shouldn't joke about those sorts of things. Really I'd just poke his face or something and he'd probably wake up. He was a light sleeper.
"Well, my company is in position. We're ready to commence the diversion phase. Phosphorus and tracers have been loaded, awaiting signal, over."
And so it was about to begin. I wasn't really the one to give these commands, and also if we're about to charge headass into a group of Shermans and Panthers, I'd rather the brain of the vehicle wake up to make sure we don't get shot.
I leant over to wake him up. I could see Noah calmly still smoking the 'heavenly shit he spun'. Man, he was effectively as pale as the snow beneath us, but the warmth of the joint actually coloured his face a nice faint yellow. Well, anything looks warm in these times, with these colours around my hand, I go to repeatedly poke David in the cheek, when it happens.
My eardrums erupted as a large loud clang abruptly discombobulated me. Forgive me for there are no good words to say how surprised I was, to the point where my finger landed in David's eye out of shock, making him more than awake. Though I really didn't need to poke anyone anymore. Noah was also, for once, caught slightly unawares, as his tank rocked back from the momentum of the projectile that seemed to collide with the roof of his tank's turret.
The resulting ricochet might have almost killed him, was the shot placed slightly differently.
"You little shit- Now you've done it!" I hastily chastised the man who, very quickly, grew once more unfazed, slowly descending into the vehicle.
"It happens. Just reverse the roles." And with that, his commander's cupola closed. I turned to David, who, also for some reason unphased about the finger that just poked his eye, immediately grabbed the binoculars and looked hard.
"Two Shermans, Three Panthers. All guns pointed in our direction. Did'ya tell 'em that?"
I regret to say, I do not possess the superhuman night vision that half of this school seems to have, and quickly relayed our situation to Oliver, Lynval One's commander, over the radio, all the while our tanks backed up. The bombardment of shells bracketed our solid steel box, which really, was no more armoured than a tin can. If a Panther's shell landed, it was over.
"Ah, can't see them anymore... The smoke is too much." David, still unphased about the entire situation, gave commands for me to relay to Oliver, who, seemingly neurally connected to David, responded over the radio that he was already carrying the orders out. Was I even needed as a radiowoman?
"Darcy, be dear and load shell rather than shot, as well as telling Noah the usual. We're gonna have some fun running away. Gracie, shoot the ground in front of them. Mason, go wild."
I ducked back into the turret, hurriedly slamming a shell into the breach, only delaying to check it was a shell. Then, immediately, I scrambled to the intercom and switched to the B set.
"Glen 1 to all Glen Units, proceed in tactical withdrawal with covering fire. Lynval will arrive behind them with ETA in two minutes. Glen 5, load sabot and go ham until then before withdrawal. Expect pursuit. No ESS so Noah doesn't stand out. How copy?"
"Glen 2, copy."
"Glen 3, copy."
"Glen 4, copy."
"Glen 5, you got it."
"Glen 6, received."
"Glen 1 to all Glen Units, proceed. Out."
I felt the spin in the vehicle as the hydraulics of the turret propelled it to the rear of the tank whilst Mason slammed his foot on the pedal, yanking the left gear break, and turned the entire vehicle around. Slightly disoriented, I hate to deal with bullshit at night after all, I picked myself back up after a metallic chug filled the turret with smoke and the crew's ears with tinnitus, with the shell casing drop barely audible. Another shell was slammed into the breach, as Mason began to accelerate. And since this was a Cromwell... Boy did it accelerate.
Just out of curiosity, my head poked out the turret, as I saw Noah's tank also open up. A blinding flash threw my vision off in the dead of night. Every time I saw that thing fire, it was no wonder they nicknamed that gun the "Firefly". Though that gun wasn't actually a firefly, and more a modified version of it. It still was a far superior gun than any of the rest of the company though, capable of more reliably punching through whatever was found. If only someone more responsible would be in such a capable and precious vehicle...
A Comet. Hawley's only Comet. Arguably the most capable tank on the team, able to both eat rounds for breakfast and deliver a kick, as well as being lightning fast as the rest of the team. Honest to god, that thing was quite the work in sport. If only it could be used better...
...Or so I somewhat wished to say, as a reported kill of a Sherman came over the intercom. Whilst not a Panther (that thing was CERTAINLY capable of knocking out a panther) it was certainly less for Oliver's encroaching Valentines to deal with. And quite frankly, with Oliver's punching up superpower, the panthers might give them less trouble than the Shermans. So I guessed it worked out, begrudgingly.
As Noah's Comet could be seen to slowly reverse, I quickly ducked down to slam another shell into the recently unloaded breach, rinse and repeat, until the quiet returned with daybreak. It looks like the swift surprise raid David wanted would be gone, and another night of manoeuvre and noise was here to stay.
If only he'd just have put it away.