The scent of smoke and char, oil, iron and black powder. All that was missing was that of char, and I'd be right back in the taiga of Russia. Of course, the surroundings also missed the iced mists and frozen blades across the land, but the truth of the matter was that it was cold, and I did love some heat.

"Fire for effect."

Two deep eruptions to both my sides reverberated and resounded bouncing off all kinds of surfaces, as the 95mm howitzers let loose their next volley. Yes, fire for effect was an artillery command, and we were in Churchill tanks, but I was technically directing artillery. I then brought my watch up, and stared into its hands. Illuminated through some night light chemical, the clock hands slowly ticked on for twenty or so seconds.

"Splash, over."

"Splash, out." I replied.

Adjustments were given from the observers in Glen, and relayed to the team. My gaze adjusted to the large howitzer to my left, as it moved ever so slightly by the smallest of degrees. No hydraulic whine was heard, as firing adjustments were made with manual traverse.

"Fire for effect."

I should really consider cutting and dying my hair. It often got caught in the wind or on parts inside the vehicle, and whilst my family had an ashen background, it wasn't the most tactical or practical colour. Especially in this situation, it was almost luminescent as the great blinding blaze that bore from the bores almost reflected off my hair's surface, lighting me up like a street vest, all the whilst lifting the long annoyances in the air as if I flipped them back. The wind itself blew right into my face. I looked on at my watch, unflinching. Another twenty seconds passed by.

"Splash, one Chi Ha, over."

"Splash, out."

"Repeat, over."

No callsigns, just commands. I relayed, and the barrels around me once more ruptured with ear-shattering sounds. Perhaps being close to them was to my detriment, as whenever these guns fired in succession, I often was unable to detect anything. I couldn't see due to the flashes and smoke, I could not hear due to the rumbles and roars, and I certainly could not smell as the odour of smoke and black powder invaded my nasal cavities in their entirety.

At least, that's the excuse I give for the following blunder.

Successively, three shots rang out from behind me. Causing me to instantly turn around. The first was accompanied by a cloud of dirt far from me, from the location of the shots. The second sent a round flying straight into what was probably the angled side near the rear of my vehicle, as a great vibration shook the tank, yet no flag emerged. The shot glanced and smacked into the ground, leading to another cloud of dirt emerging. The third shot missed my vehicle, but unfortunately it seems I was not the target, as the shot flew straight into the rear of the Churchill to my left, one of the howitzer tanks. The vehicle jostled forwards by an almost unnoticeable amount, and with no fanfare or ceremony, with a smoking rear, from the tank emerged a white flag.

Hastily, I switched my microphone to the IC channel and shouted. "About face! Target, Eight-Zero-Zero Yards! Quick!" I could not see our assailants, but I did see the area from which the guns sounded, especially after one of them hit the ground in front.

I didn't need to inform the remaining Churchill 5, which already pushed forwards to kick its turning in quickly. Our tank attempted the same, but we found moving much more difficult. Perhaps the second shot missed our rear and hit our tracks, for as we turned, the vehicle's right began to sink into the ground. As we were just halfway through completing our about face however, another round slammed into the side of our tank. A clang rang out and the entire world seemed to shake. But it hit at such a distance and angle that miraculously, we were fine. The hydraulic humming of the turret was far more audible now, as our gunner tried to get on target.

The Churchill to my right seemed to just line up a shot, as for just a split second, it stopped turning and opened fire. Not a moment later, two shots slammed into its side, as its gun lifelessly depressed down again, and a second later, the second Churchill 5 let its white flag out.

It seemed to have taken one with it, as just after firing, the round from the 95mm seemed to make some contact as a great fire exploded from one of our masked assailants. The impact must have been harsh as it was sent backwards, just enough for me to see what sort of vehicle it was, before protruding its own white flag. I even heard the impact, some sort of metallic explosive knock. The burn from the strike illuminated the vehicle's front just enough for me to make out its distinct features.

A small low profile boxy case mate, fitted with a muzzle break and sideskirts, as well as bushes and extra applique tracks on the front. A stug.

We managed to traverse the hull front to face the enemy now, as I peered through the commander's gunsights, a module fitted to most British vehicles so the commander could guide the gunner when the target was on.

"Headlights! Now!"

Intense light began to streak out of the front of the vehicle, brightening the darkened surroundings. An orange haze could be seen in the far distance, obscured by most of the trees, but it wasn't enough for me to quite see anything ahead. These lights however, would show me at least enough for me to see the enemy ahead. And I could see them. They were much closer than I thought though.

"Target acquired!" My gunner shouted.

"Fire!"

A loud crack and a whiff accompanied by even more light in this night dissipated into smoke, as a round flew from our barrel and headed straight towards one of the remaining Stugs, which attempted to back up. It was behind some sort of ridgeline clearly, and wanted to get away to a place where they could penetrate us. The shell continued its course and flew straight into the ground ahead.

It's alright though, we weren't aiming for the tank.

A set of high-pitched cracks and fizzles sounded as the White Phosphorus worked its magic. Hopefully, this would stall them long enough so that the relief force I was to call for would arrive in time. "Lights off. Get me on the A set!"

My loader acted quickly, and I brought my binoculars to my eyes, scanning the smoke. The enemy was obscured, but I did give them a window of opportunity to escape and approach my sides or rear. It was now a race. And we had to slow them down so our friends could catch up.

"Glen One this is Wynstow Actual, we are under attack from three Stug casemates. All our artillery has been compromised. Requesting support from Bronté, over."

Bronté group, a set of four Cromwells, were currently the ones searching for the Stugs, as well as the enemy command vehicle and scouts. Now that we'd found the command vehicle, with our Cruiser on the way to eliminate it, as well as the more potent of the remaining undiscovered threats, they'd hopefully rendezvous with us. Two Stugs against a Churchill and four Cromwells would not win that engagement, and up with Ollie and David were the rest, where they would probably be able to somewhat outfight the remaining enemies.

"This is Glen One, Loud and clear, detaching the observatory from you, directing Bronté. Out."

Now all we had to do was wait and stall. But we wouldn't be able to do so for long. We could only fire off so many smoke grenades before they just closed in, and we could only fire in one direction. Turning and quickly engaging both vehicles also was not an option, as the tank couldn't turn anymore either. It wasn't so bad that the vehicle would be a red flag, but if we continued to move, one would pop up, and then we would have to resign ourselves to our fate.

"Wynstow One this is Bronté Actual, we're on the way, ETA 7 minutes, over."

"Bronté One this is Wynstow Actual, what the fuck? Remove your limiters and get here as quick as you can, out."

A shot was loaded into the breach. I had kicked my loader, indicating that we're here to kill now. And like cockroaches, the small little buggers emerged from the smoke simultaneously. However, unlike cockroaches, they came with such speed that I thought we'd quickly be overrun.

"Fire."

Another shell flew from the gun and glanced off the top of one of the Stugs. They shot back, and the shell slammed straight into the hull's front plate, much to my discomfort, but it was nothing that the Churchill 7 could not handle. The other one shot, with the round grazing the roof of the turret, narrowly missing my face.

My hair flew in the air once more, obscuring my face, as another round was sent into the track of the closer one of the Stugs. No good, their speed and pattern that they moved in was throwing our shells off. They seemed to have mastered the dodge too, stopping just as we fire, or turning at the very moment, so that we wouldn't land a proper hit, and more a glancing blow. But this target was now stationary to take out. The lower glacis was hidden with a small mound, but our weapon should be able to liquify the vehicle from the front anyways.

Another shell was loaded, and fired straight into the front of the tank. But somehow... They fired right back, this round taking out our other track. By this time, the remaining mobile case mate began to make its way around us. Did they augment the armour of their vehicles? What was making these things unkillable?

Never once in battle have I lost my cool. Never before. But at the sight of such depravity, such insolence, such horrid sportsmanship, I began to feel my blood boil. My clothes heated, and beads of sweat began to form on my forehead. I was no stranger to depraved and vicious tactics, but everything I did was always legal, even if bending the rules. But at least within this tourney, the modification of tanks beyond original design properties was illegal. They had to break the rules to win. I wouldn't lose to these bastards.

"Cheating bitches, load smoke! Fire at the viewports!"

A round was discharged straight into the Stug and burst on the armour, hitting its mark perfectly. Dashes and traces of white and grey created a thick cloud that could not be seen through, as the hydraulics of the turret horizontal drive screamed being pushed to its limits. The basket swung around as our gun turned to face the other Stug approaching our sides.

Just as we got a shot off, it swerved and the shot glanced off the angled front, creating a large plume of dust and dirt where it ricocheted into. The enemy gun erupted, and a moment later, my eyes were filled with a grey and white mist. My lungs were crowded with a burning cloudy substance, and it felt like I would for a moment, cough my insides out, as my body uncontrollably began to jerk and wheeze. My eyes clouded with both the dense substance and tears. They threw smoke in front of us. I could hear their engines rumble once again.

Our own turret began to turn once more to our rear, ready to engage if the smoke would clear in time. I remained outside the tank, even if it were dangerous to inhale the smoke for me and my crew. With my body low and close to the turret roof, one hand on the side and the other hand on the roof front, I glared hard into the smoke, squinting for just a hint of the enemy. I would win this damned fight. It was a matter of pride against these cheating bastards at this point.

Eventually, the rumbling grew louder and louder. I directed my gunner to the rear, as I heard the vehicle approach. Then, suddenly through the smoke, emerged the side of their vehicle, quickly turning to face us. My hoarse voice yelled with all my might.

"FIRE!"

The round flew through the air and slammed straight into the angled side of their tank, tearing the side skirts off and leaving a glancing blow, but their consecutive shot as a result was thrown off too, shattering on the turret roof. Fragments of the shell flew straight into my hand and hair, covering me in gashes of blood, as I screamed to reload. Their hull lower plate was right in front of us, if we could get the gun on target, we could take them out. Provided that also wasn't illegally reinforced.

But then they began moving again, straight towards us, zigzagging to throw us off. From side to side they dashed, in one last attempt to save their vehicle. My vision was red, dyed in blood sweat and tears. My head was pounding, as was my heart. I felt like ripping my clothes off with how hot I felt. My vocal chords burst.

"KILL HIM! KILL HIM! COME ON PUT THE GUN ON HIM AND SHOOT HIM! SHOOT HIM!"

As our gun fired once more, the shell finally made its mark and slammed into the side plate of the Stug, and it moved no more.

"YES! Now quick, TURN THE GUN ON THE OTHER ONE!"

But just as I cried my orders out and turned my attention to the remaining cockroach, the phosphorus had cleared. A bang, a flash, a hiss, and a metallic crunch. Then, moments later, the sound of a flag waving.

The impact sent me tussling into the tank, as my already bloodied head painfully slammed into the commander's cupola on the way down, with an intense jerk of pain and stinging erupting from my left temple.

They wouldn't have won that engagement if they weren't such bastard cheaters. Their tactics were all over the place, as was their marksmanship. But because they armoured their fronts into oblivion.

They say you can't tell when someone has gone insane, but you can tell just at the moment that they snap. I think my crew managed to encounter that exact phenomenon.

"Maddie...? Are you okay?" My gunner asked. "You're smiling..."

"A smoke. Give me a smoke."

My crew never questions my orders. Even if delayed, they always comply. A smoke grenade was placed into my hand, and with faltering vision, as I clambered weakly out of the hatch, just enough so that I could somewhat see the enemy. Their track was still out. My usually strong legs seemed like they were just about to give in too, as I felt that I was a building supported by noodles. My arms were ringing phones, my head was a drum that was eternally beaten.

My vision was going slightly hazy now, quite blurry in fact. But I tried my hardest to focus. All real control was lost, but my impulse poured every ounce of willpower that I had into this one act. I looked hard, and my vision concentrated on a vehicle with a crew rapidly turning out their hatches.

And then, on instinct, I pulled the pin and threw the phosphorus, before my entire body gave out, slumping back into my tank.

Shame. I conked out before I could even hear their screams.