Northern France, Le Havre, 1045 hours:
Smoke continued to rise from the city as a large formation of 15 Sherman Fireflies and 3 Black Prince Churchill's were moving towards the town in an arrow formation, with dark, thunderous clouds shadowing them from above. ARL's and SA50 M4A4's were seen running away, some scattered on the fields and roads with white flags on their roofs.
A young man was standing on the cupola, watching from the Churchill in the middle of the formation towards the fleeing tanks through his binoculars. Wearing a thick wool tank suit with a Scottish flag patch on the right shoulder and the Black Watch team's symbol patch on the left shoulder. He's also wearing a balmoral bonnet with an ANGSCOT union pin attached to it, coupled with a headset placed on top of the hat, and a pair of black boots as his footwear.
That man is William McNab; he watched as the M4A4's and ARL's ran away, some crashing into each other before being fired at by the Fireflies or the Black Princes. It was chaotic and unorganised.
"Blimey, I bet first-year students crewed those tanks. I never saw them this disorganised before. Firing!" His gunner commented in a thick Scottish accent before he fired off a shell from the 17-pounder. The shell flew for a few moments before hitting the tracks on an ARL, causing the ARL to drive in circles before stopping. "Load me another."
The loader immediately went down and grabbed a fresh shell from the lower ammo rack before going back up to the gun chamber, shoved the shell inside, and sealed it close. "Up!"
"Firing!" The gunner pressed on the cannon's trigger, causing another shell to spew out from the barrel and hit the rear turret of the ARL, causing the immobile tank to flinch forward before a white flag popped out.
"Well, we're going to be aces before the end of the year." The gunner chuckled. "They're such easy targets; this is like... What do those yanks call again?"
"A turkey shoot." William looked back and forth from his binoculars before dropping them and then pulling the mic close to his mouth. "All units, listen up. We're about to enter the town of Le Havre. We've been here hundreds of times already, so you all know what to do. Form up on three files with the Churchill leading up front. We'll be fighting in close quarters, but you all already know that."
William's orders were disrupted when another voice in an English accent came in. "This is Stingray 1-9 to Cavalier Actual; do you copy?"
William halted, hearing a new voice in the background. He then responded back. "Cavalier Actual to Stingray 1–9, I can hear your voice crystal clear; go ahead."
"Stingray 1-9 to Cavalier Actual, I'm here with Stingray 1-10. We got lost during our airdrop, several kilometers away from the drop zone. Stingray Actual ordered us to regroup with your force. Permission to fall in?" He requested.
William heard the words coming in from Stingray 1–9, dropping off kilometers away. What are the odds? Though he read some reports of today's weather the day before, the wind would be quite strong. He then responded to his request. "Stingray 1–9, permission granted. What's your current location?"
"We just passed by a group of Bishop SPG's. I'm seeing a formation of what seems to be Churchill's and Sherman's." The young man described.
William looked back towards the rear of the formation after the mention of his force, where he saw two Tetrarch Mk. VII's passing by a column of Bishop's on the main road, speeding closer. He then leaned back to the mic. "Right, I'm seeing you two now.."
The Tetrarchs began approaching closer and closer to the formation, their dirty tracks sending chunks of wet earth flying to the road. One Tetrarch then got close to William's Churchill, and one young man popped out from the cupola. Wearing pretty much the same clothing as him, with the difference being the patches and the headwear, with him wearing a black berret instead. He then stood straight before saluting him.
"I'm Lance Corporal Alex from St. Bennett's 5th Para Unit. I'm ordered by Captain Tom Smith to regroup with your force."
William looked at him before saluting back in response and dropping it. "Right, I'm assuming they're in the objective already," he asked.
"Yes, Fort de Tourneville. They just need to wave a flag and hold it for at least half an hour." Benjamin answered.
"Alright then." William leaned back to his radio when suddenly he felt a sudden jolt of pain as a loud static noise came through the frequency.
The formation came to a halt as the force's radios were filled with loud static noises. William took the radio off his ears, groaning in pain. "Sweet Jesus, what was that noise?"
"I have no fucking idea, Captain." The gunner groaned, taking the radio set off.
"Ah, that's probably our captain's radio jammer. Usual stuff." Alex took off his radio, setting the frequency to another.
"Goodness gracious.. Switch to backup frequency." William went towards the radio placed on his rear, rotating the wheel to switch the frequency to 32.0 MHz. Afterwards, he leaned into his mic before speaking. "This is Cavalier Actual to all units; report in."
Soon, reports started coming in from units that had just changed their frequency.
"Cavalier 1-2, reporting."
"Cavalier 1-3, reporting."
"Archer 1-1, reporting."
and so on.
"Longbow 1-3, reporting."
"Longbow 1-4, reporting."
"Longbow 1–5, reporting."
"All elements, standby for orders." He went on to grab a plastic-wrapped map inside a leather cover, opening it to reveal a recently printed map inside. "Right. Fort de Tourneville." He looked around, spotting a helicopter field and an airfield just beside the main, large road where his force was standing at the moment. He looked back towards the map, using the objects as references on the map, dragging his index finger along the roads, looking for the shortest possible route to reach the objective.
"Right, uh, all units listen up. We'll be going down south of road D940 and towards D32. Cavalier 1-2 leads Archer 1-6 to 1-10, your task will be to spearhead along D32 after passing the roundel intersection and straight towards the fort. Tank any shots those buggers shoot at you."
"Copy that Cavalier Actual."
"Cavalier 1-3, you lead Archer 1-11 to 1-15; you go as far as road D232, go through Rue de I'Alma, and head straight towards the objective. Understood?"
"Copy that, will do."
As orders went through the radio, fireflies were seen setting their formation right behind each Black Prince Churchill's. Commanders are seen on their cupolas giving orders to their comrades. It wasn't long until a column was formed—two columns of a black Prince Churchill with a long line of five Sherman Fireflies just right behind. Rain continued showering down the earth and began to intensify, with the sound of drops becoming louder and louder by the second. The two columns hit hard on their controls as they began making their way towards their intended places. The loud sounds of engines were deafened by the intense rain shower, followed up by the sounds of thunder and lightning striking down several steel poles.
"All Longbow elements form up on the roads near the coast. Remaining Archer units set up defensive positions around the corners." William ordered through the frequency, coordinating units on what to do. It was until lightning struck a nearby electric pole, causing a small electric explosion to occur and him to flinch. "Fucking hell.. Yeah, I'm not staying up here."
William hopped back inside the tank, closing the hatch. His hair was wet from rain showering down from above; the wind contributed to pushing the rain water against him, causing sharp feelings as if the water were sharp needles.
"That was dangerous being out there for too long." His gunner commented on William staying out during the harsh weather.
"I feel more control while being outside; being inside the tank makes me feel suffocated." William grabbed the mic once more as he began communicating with his separated forces.
Gunfire was heard throughout the town as both sides engaged with each other. The fires that emerged were quick to be extinguished by the intense rain. Yellow lights emerged on random blocks and roads from cannon fire. All of this was recorded by a flying MQ-1 drone, flying just several hundred meters above the sky, with cameras rotating 360 degrees as it was observed from multiple perspectives.
"All Stingray units, come in." Tom leaned the radio's mic to his mouth, checking in through the radio and checking the status of all of his units.
"Stingray 1–5, reporting."
"Stingray 1-6, reporting."
"Stingray 1–8, reporting."
"Stingray 1–9, reporting."
"Stingray 1–10, reporting."
Tom listened in to the reporting units that were left; only three responded, aside from 1-9 and 1-10 being with the main force, as far as he knew.
"Well, what now?" Bill sat on his driver's seat, looking outside through the driver's hatchhole as rain continued showering down the earth. "Raining cats and dogs out there."
"Nah... More like raining knives. The wind is hella strong in this match, unlike before." Benjamin yawned. "This boredom is killing me."
"Well, you gotta keep frosty, yeah? Otherwise, we'll fail this one objective." Tom placed the mic back on top of the radio before releasing a heavy sigh. The rain was quite heavy and loud. If it weren't for the crew's radios, they'd be hearing nothing at all due to the heavy rain hitting the armor of the Tetrarch. Outside, in a colorful square, is a flag pole with a red flag waving up high in the sky aggressively, pushed by a very strong wind from the east of the fort.
There was then only silence inside the tank, with only the sound of rain hitting the surface of the tank. The crew waited for several minutes, until Bill decided to whine.
"This is so fucking boring." Bill groaned.
"Oi, oi. Rule number five, remember? You don't want to get into trouble with the Sergeant Major, do you?" Tom reminded him.
"Kiss me goodnight, Sergeant Major!" Benjamin sang; his voice is that of boredom and a bit of insanity.
"Tuck me in my little wooden bed.. We all love you, Sergeant Major." Bill followed along.
"When we hear you bawling, 'Show a leg'!"
"Don't forget to wake me up in the morning!-and bring my 'round a nice cup of hot tea!"
"Kiss me goodnight, Sergeant Major. Sergeant Major, be a mother to me!" Bill pulled out a small harmonica and continued singing the song.
Tom watched as the two sang just to fill the void. Oh well, what can he do? It was until he heard the sounds of tank threads from the entrance. Have the French found their position finally? He fixed his sitting position. "Get back up, you two. I think they're here."
Bill and Benjamin fixed their sitting positions and are now back in their positions. Tom looked out from the cupola, looking at the entrance of the fort. He heard the sound of tank threads getting closer to their position, until there was a sudden silence. He could hear the faint sound of an engine despite the heavy rain outside. He grabbed the radio's mic before speaking through it.
"Stingray 1-1 actual to Stingray 1-9. Can you hear me over?" Tom awaited a reply.
"Static: Stingray 1-9 to Stingray 1-1 Actual. I can hear you loud and clear. Go ahead." A response came in, and Tom immediately asked.
"Stingray 1-1, actual to Stingray 1-9, what's the status of the cavalry?""
"Uhh, give me a minute." There was then silence from Stingrays 1–9. Tom waited for a few minutes for a response to come in. One minute and five seconds later, it came. "Stingray 1-9 to Stingray 1-1 Actual. Cavalry is just 8 minutes into the objective."
Eight minutes, he can wait that long without being caught, but who knows if the opposing team found out about his tank's position? It's been a while since they landed, and he's pretty confident to say that they might've already tracked the jammer's signal to this location. But last time he remembered them having a quicker reaction time to respond to such jamming along with finding the source, this is different. He then looked towards the entrance, it's quite narrow, but a Sherman with a skilled driver can fit inside. Skilled.. He remembered that the opposing team's best had already graduated a year prior, could it be that they're using inexperienced personnel? Maybe..
The rain began to reduce in volume, and the aggressive sound of droplets crashing to the tank's surface began to lessen in sound. The storm was about to be over. Tom was still deep in thought. Maybe he should call in artillery? But that would risk him getting caught in the fire. Calling in a dead-accurate strike is a big no in this kind of weather without getting deviated due to the wind.
Tom looked to his left at the open, wide field inside, and an idea popped into his mind. He then leaned into the mic once more. "Relay a fire mission request to Cavalier Actual. Grid F3, coordinates: 1450 6780."
"Grid F3, 1450 6780, enemy infantry platoon with light vehicles. Confirm, over?" Stingray 1–9 asked.
"Confirm; bring it in."
"Copy, relaying this now to Cavalier Actual."
Tom then looked down toward Bill. "Get us out of here."
"What? Where?" Bill asked with a confused look.
"Called in a danger close fire mission, drive us out of here before we're hit." Tom ordered.
"Right, Sir." Bill acknowledged and pushed the controls backwards, driving the tank backwards.
Tom went out from the cupola, looking at the rear of the tank to look for any obstacles the tank may collide into. "Keep reversing."
He continued looking around for possible hiding spots for his tank to hide. He stared at the colourful houses just near the open field. Maybe they could go there, but it would risk the Tetrarch being compromised from the entrance and the soon-to-come artillery barrage. A crashing sound could be heard from the entrance, as could the sound of a roaring engine. Something seemed to be trying to force itself in.
His time was now limited. The enemy is now at the doorstep. Maybe he could pop some smoke to conceal their movement, but they'd compromise their presence the moment they did and let hell loose on whatever's on the other side of the fort. Then he remembered one piece of advice from the instructor, the Sergeant Major.
"If you're stuck like this, pop a smoke and drive against the wall for a few seconds. The smoke and the sound of the engine will make the enemy think you're passing through and shoot whatever's in front. Then after the first shot, take the opportunity to move up."
"Deception.." Tom figured. He immediately looked down toward the driver's seat. "Move forward and crash against those railings."
"What?-"
"Do it." Tom pressed on a button just on the right side of his inner compartment section. Causing a tube to be launched off from one of the tubes attached to the tank before then exploding, causing a thick white smoke to form. "Hurry up! We don't have much time!"
"On it." Bill switched the stick to move the tank to the right, facing against the railings, and went full throttle. The tank crashed against the rail, bending it slightly but still holding the tank from going further.
Soon, the roaring engine sound from the entrance stopped, and a yellow light appeared on the thick white smoke for a few split seconds, and a shell landed on a nearby house ahead of the field just near the colourful square. Not wanting to pass on the opportunity, Tom yelled out to Bill.
"Alright! Turn 180 and get us behind those houses!" Tom ordered.
Bill acknowledged and pushed on the sticks, moving the tank 180 degrees to the right, where he could see the colourful houses ahead. He jumped on the throttle pedals, moving the tank forward. Tom flinched and almost fell off, but his strong hands kept him on the cupola. Just as the smoke was about to clear up in a few milliseconds, a long barrel of a cannon appeared, followed by a Sherman tank lurching out from the fading white smoke, with scratches on the edges from the struggle of driving through the narrow fort entrance. Gun fire could be heard in the background; the source is not yet known.
A dark-skinned figure appeared out of the cupola, wearing a brown sweater with a collared shirt underneath, coupled with a dark brown beret and a radio neck. He stared at the escaping Tetrarch before pressing a button on the neck radio and yelling out, "Tirer!" Not a single shot was fired. The figure looked down to the inside compartment of the Sherman, yelling at its crew, ranting even.
As the Tetrarch made its way towards the square, the Sherman behind moved into the large field ahead, followed by an ARL-44 and another long barreled Sherman moving backwards into the inside of the fort's entrance, acting as a rear guard for its friends behind. The Sherman that entered earlier halted in its advance, its cannon swinging up and down, before it started to adjust itself, aiming towards the fleeing Tetrarch. The dark-skinned figure stared at it, and just as it was about to give out an order through the neck radio, an audible whistling sound could be heard above. The figure looked up; his face turned into that of horror, and he immediately went inside the tank, shutting the hatch.
The Tetrarch made it behind the colourful houses; the whistling sound got nearer and nearer by the millisecond, and soon a shell landed on the large field, causing a large explosion to occur. The Sherman was hit first on the right track, and later another shell impacted on the engine's trap door. Sounds of metal clashing into each other were barely heard as the explosion muffled it all. Then, the ARL-44 was hit by a shell on its roof, and a large explosion could be heard soon after. The large field where the Sherman and the ARL stood continued to explode, with shells raining down followed by rainwater.
The bombardment would later last for 45 seconds; before then, the volume of the explosion reduced bit by bit until only a single whistling sound was heard and impacted on the fort's upper structure. Dust covered the area for a few seconds but was soon erased by the rain that was slowly reducing in volume. There were multiple craters spotted on the craters, with the two tanks being in very bad shape. Scratched, burned, and cracked. Large chunks of metal from the tank can be seen scattered nearby. A white flag popped on each of the tank's flag holes.
The rain began to reduce further in volume, until only small droplets were dropping and later no more. The black clouds flew away from the town, replaced by the bright sun now shining upon the city. An MQ-1 drone was still flying high in the sky, just several hundred meters from the ground. Its camera's moving around, eyeing some destroyed houses, structures, and, most importantly, tanks. ARL's and M4A4's scattered across the streets, along with some Sherman Fireflies and a Churchill. White flags could be seen waving on every tank it saw.
The camera of the MQ-1 then rapidly moved towards the fort, the main objective of the match. 6 Sherman Fireflies, 1 Black Prince Churchill, and a Tetrarch VII's could be seen surrounding the fort; 2 ARL's and 1 SA50 M4A4 Sherman's were seen with their white flags on top of the roof. There was also an SA50 M4A4 Sherman seen blocking the entrance of the fort, now stuck inside with black smoke steaming out, before it disappeared. It would later spotted another Tetrarch VII hiding just behind the line of colourful houses.
The MQ-1 then eyed the line of Bishop SPG's just near the edge of the seawall fence, with a Black Prince Churchill with two Tetrarch VII's and five Sherman fireflies in multiple corners accompanying.
"Fort de Tourneville has been captured but has not yet been held for at least two hours. There are zero active units remaining from the La Marseillaise team. Victory condition has been met. ANGSCOT Union wins the semifinals. End of report."