West Virginian Tankery Field, Boston College Tankery FOB, 12th of September 2015, 1000 hours:
It was all nice and sunny in the skies over Virginia. Birds chirping and leaves shaking on the trees as the wind blew through. People were walking around the base doing their usual tasks. A large camp could be spotted, built near a wide dirt road, where tents and mobile toilets could be seen stationed. CCKW trucks passing by, carrying with them important cargo onboard, covered by dark-coloured tarps.
Somewhere in a hill just half a click away was an RV van, laced over with a symbol, with the writings indicating it belonged to Boston College of Massachuttes. There was a young man sitting on a chair, and in front of him were tonnes of electronic hardware and broadcasting equipment. His eyes were on a screen as he watched the drone give a display of a battlefield, where he could see both teams' preparing for an upcoming battle.
"Good day, dear listeners, and this is John Brown, your favourite caster. Welcome back to Boston College Media, reporting live on the settle-down match between our boys from the Massachuttes and the newly created team, The Alligators, which once was just a racing tank team from the south now trying to challenge our beloved team to you all back home. The match would start in a few minutes, and by then, let's play a few songs to boost morale for our folks over there."
Murphy was viewing over the entire team from the cupola. His tank, along with five to ten others, being M4 Shermans, dug in as they remained on the high terrain. wearing a khaki shirt with a thick leather jacket, the tankery team's shield emblem with a white star on the right top sleeve, and trousers with boots and a tanker helmet.
He watched his subordinates, fellow tankers, some still loading the last remaining munitions that were brought over by the supply truck. It seemed that some forgot to fill their ammunition boxes. His tank, along with many others, being mostly M4 Shermans, dug in as they remained on the high terrain.
He eyed left and right, formations filled with Sherman M4's with the variant of either A2's or A3's, all equipped with the 76mm guns. Many of them were split into multiple groups of either 5 or 10 in an arrow formation. He then looked towards the rear—15 or so Sherman Calliopes after doing a quick look—some could be seen with their launch tubes still being loaded by the crews.
He then looked over to the other group of tanks, the M24 Chaffee's stationed on top of a higher elevation belonging to the ISR section, while holding a cable that was flying over a balloon over them. He figured that they were still trying to collect as much information as possible just moments before the match started.
Murphy then looked down inside the cupola towards the radio section. "How are the wiretapping girls doing?" He asked.
Bill looked up towards him from the radio section of the tank before then responding. "They're still listening on their net. It'll take a while." Bill answered before he looked back down, focusing back on the radio.
Murphy nodded, acknowledging the information that he had just received before releasing a sigh. "Gosh, we should've gotten their information before this."
"Well, can't blame them. Our case officer was sick a week prior to the match and cannot get that much information." Bill then heard a transmission coming and began focusing on the messages that were being transmitted. "Hang on, they're sending in traffic now."
Bill took a piece of paper and a pen and started writing down the information being relayed over the radio; before then, he handed it over to Murphy.
Murphy took the paper and read it, reading the information. "So... fifteen Panthers and three Tiger I's. Last time I heard, they used M6A1's and some other converted old junk racing tanks. What happened?"
"Well, they got fed with wehraboo propaganda from Reddit, I assume." Said Bill in a sarcastic tone before giggling. "Nah, just joking. You were sick, so you probably didn't know. The ISR told us that the Alligators' had been training and funded by some Japanese team that practices the Nishizumi style for the last few weeks ever since the ATA signed an agreement with the JSF, if you forgot. They also got some pretty good funding from the Mitsubishi Group. Guess those Japs' are really trying to expand their influence to the states'."
Murphy nodded as he received the information said by Bill. He then yawned, feeling dizzy. "Fuck, I forgot to drink coffee."
"I hate this... I was planning to go on a date with one of the girls from St. Betty; she is so nice and cute as hell, but those bastards ruined it!" Bill punched the radio in annoyance, which received an immediate response from Murphy.
"Hey, watch the radio! I'm not reporting to the council that one radio broke because someone's raging for no reason again." Murphy scolded, but then he saw Bill getting serious again with how he was hearing closely to the headset, probably hearing into some new information.
"I thought the Austin's would help them." Said Bill as he continued hearing messages over the radio.
"Well, their commander died in a car crash. Guess what? The driver who drove was playing Pokémon. Poor bastard... Why ask?" Asked Murphy, feeling some remorse from his words earlier, wondering what Bill was about to say.
"Huh, well, they just said there's not a single presence from those guys."
Then, in the distance, a high-pitched sound could be heard as a red streak could be seen climbing up high in the blue sky before then exploding several hundred feet above the air. The crews went back inside their tanks, and later the crew of the T34 Calliopes loaded in the last rockets before hopping back inside.
The engines roared as they were turned on by the crews. Launchers and cannons alike were adjusted, shells loaded inside the chambers, and tanks ready for combat at any moment.
"Alright, final checks, everyone." Murphy grabbed the handset and leaned it towards his mouth. "All units, check in."
"First company, standby."
"Second company, standby."
One by one, each platoon started to check in on their unit's status, and finally, after a few minutes, all of the units had checked in on their readiness.
"All units standby, boss; your call now." Bill looked back at Murphy, saying that all was set, waiting for his command.
Murphy reached towards the radio handset; he was quiet for a moment, waiting for everyone to quiet down. He waited until the net was entirely quiet, and he then spoke up.
"One day, there was a young man called David. He went to the frontlines to deliver food to his brothers. When he arrived, he saw the Israeli soldiers weakened; he wanted to join the fight, but his body's too weak to wear armour and carry weapons. Instead, he fought with his slingshot and rocks. He reached up to Goliath and hit him with the rock or sword, killing him. What is the point of the story?"
He paused, letting the story sink into those who were hearing. They were all confused about what he was talking about, but just as they were about to think further, Murphy continued. "The point is that our enemy used that story, used Goliath as a metaphor for us, and David as them. We are seen as devils, typical southerner rhetoric against northerners. We shall conduct ourselves in this battle in good will; we shall treat them as our almighty God has told us to. But I'll tell you all, we will be the ones that will lead America to the international stage and overthrow the Japanese off of their decades-old reign over this sport and end their abuse of power through the so-called winners' privileges."
There was another moment of silence. Murphy looked at his handwatch, waiting for the exact time that was originally planned beforehand. Waiting for the exact time that they should begin their move. Then, as the time struck 1016, he said a single word, signalling the start of their offensive. "In the mood."
"Roger that, in the mood. Operation is a go." One voice replied back, and after the word was said, the once blue and calm sky thundered and turned bright as the Calliopes from the rear fired off their munitions off the rocket tubes, launching them off to the sky.
Tanks began to roll their tracks and move down the hill; files of 5 tanks each moving across the large field in single-file lines, each of the tanks in the unit aiming at every possible angle as they were trained.
Wind blew in from the north and against a column of Shermans that was marching on the dirt road. Booming and howling sounds of cannons and rockets were fired could be heard throughout the forest in high volumes, a non-stop relentless fire it was.
Jonathan could be seen standing on the cupola of the Sherman; his tank was on the 2nd line of the formation, traversing on the single-lane dirt road. Like the rest of his subordinates, their heads were looking around for any potential threats that may await them.
He was holding a binocular in his hands, observing until he saw something some yards ahead in the distance, a black smoke rising. He zoomed in closer to see a Tiger I and the environment surrounding it , being entirely wrecked and on fire, with the white flag out. Probably victims of the initial bombardment.
"They sure are reliable in making guesses." He remarked. "Better than before."
"Man, those fires really are concerning." His gunner commented, and just after his remark, a buzzing sound could be heard from above.
Jonathan looked up towards the sky, where he saw a prop plane flying in close, coloured in a mix of red and white. It flew closer and was flying just above the trees before then flying past his formation, where it then released huge drops of water at the area that was burning.
"That was fast."
Then, a distressed voice could be heard over his headset. "Tank, ahead!"
Jonathan immediately turned back towards the front of the formation, his eyes still on the binoculars. He saw two or three Panthers right in front of him. Multiple flashes of light could be seen, followed by an explosive sound. A distinctive sound of a projectile coming in could be heard in his ears.
"Shit, brace for impact!" yelled the commander of the Sherman that was leading ahead as he dove down towards cover inside the cupola.
A shell slammed onto the sloped surface of the leading Sherman, causing the tank to be knocked back slightly, followed with a white flag popping out.
"1-2 is out!" A yell was heard over the net.
Jonathan was shocked by the impact that occurred on the leading Sherman, but it only took him a few seconds before he eventually recovered. "Stop!"
The tank came to a halt and stopped just right before it clashed with the knocked-out Sherman at the front.
He then reached towards the handset radio, pressing on the pressure button and toggling it on. "Thunder 2-1 Actual, this is Thunder 1-1 Actual, come in?"
"static- This is Thunder 2-1 Actual; getting a bit busy right here; you're on your own, Out." The line was then cut, leaving Jonathan no room to talk back.
"Damn it.." Jonathan looked at the surroundings. They're not getting fired at; strange.
"Uhh, Thunder 1-3 to Thunder 1-1 Actual, what are your orders?" His subordinate's voice could be heard, coming from the rear part of the formation.
Jonathan heard the transmission, but he was still confused. Was this it? Is this the only ambush they gave to his platoon? He had to admit, while they surprised him at first, it was pretty lame; he expected to be ambushed from the thick bushes from the flanks and be wiped out completely. What a waste of the element of surprise. Unfortunately for them, they were about to find out what a couple million dollars spending on tankery looks like.
He then got out of the cupola, bringing with him a map in a plastic wrap and his binoculars. He got down before crawling down, taking a peek from behind the wrecked Sherman. He observed through the binoculars at the tank that he recognised as a Panther and later saw other tanks beside it that were sitting there, menacingly at the road's edge, ready to claim another prey.
"Should've relocated you motherfuckers..." He looked down towards the map, trying to guess his location by searching for landmarks and his position as a reference to track the panther's exact location down, only to see an endless stream of trees around him.
"Damn it, no landmarks around here…" He then decided to try using the LOD line, or the Line of Departure, as a reference instead and tried guessing how long it had been since they passed it until the exact point they were in.
After a couple of seconds guessing and marking down the possible coordinates, he walked back inside the Sherman before reaching towards the handset radio, pressing on the pressure, and turning the radio on. "I hope this is the right one…" He thought to himself.
"OP, this is Thunder 1-1 Actual; do you copy, over?"
"This is OP; copy, send in traffic."
"Destruction fire mission at Grid 667164." He relayed the coordinates over the radio. "Target is possibly two or three armoured vehicles located somewhere in the east side near the border of the playing area, around a couple of minutes from the entrance of the forest with a ninety-degree-shaped curved turn, over?"
"Right, hold one. Destruction fire mission, Grid 667164, confirm, over?"
"Confirm, OP."
"Copy. You might wanna duck down and sit tight; it'll take around 3-5 minutes."
"Acknowledged OP, over and out." Jonathan let off of the pressure before then placing the handset back in its place. He then turned towards the other three tanks in the rear. "We got some explosive rain coming in; get inside!"
He dove down inside the cupola, only showing out his head, waiting for the bombardment that was about to come. Half a minute later, a wheezing sound could be heard coming in from above his head, wheezing through his tank platoon's column before impacting the ground ahead.
A few projectiles landed near the tanks, missing them by a few meters to the left, and it all went silent for a moment until another wave of projectiles landed directly at the Panthers. One attempted to break off but then soon, a massive wave of projectiles began to arrive, impacting the earth before exploding. Soil and shrapnel were sent all over the place; it was relentless.
The bombardment lasted for a few seconds before stopping. Dust and smoke began to settle, and the commander stood back on the cupola, looking back at his binoculars at the sight where the Panthers were once aiming at the road.
"Alright, get us around the wreck." Jonathan ordered the driver before raising back the handset. "All Thunder 1 units, follow me."
"Wilco."
The column continued moving, leaving behind the knocked-out Sherman. The same prop aircraft could be seen flying ahead and above the column, spraying water over the area that was devastated by the bombardment earlier.
As the column passed through the wrecked site, he looked over the result of the bombardment. Three Panthers with their white flags waving over their turrets, all of them being close to each other. Perhaps too close. He saw the crews that once manned the tanks, with mixed emotions, some giving a dirty look at them.
"Shouldn't have bunched up, ya goons!" The commander of the Sherman from the rear mocked them, followed by the driver from the hatch.
"How are those Panzers doing to y'all? Haha!"
Jonathan looked back towards the Sherman at the rear after hearing the mockings. He shook his head in disappointment before then looking back forward, "They're definitely getting scolded after this."
—-
Wind blowing, the sun shining down upon the earth. The leaves were shaking and instead of the sound of mother nature like birds chirping or whatnot, instead replaced with the relentless roaring sound as cannons boomed and rocket platforms howled.
Molly could be seen standing on the Chaffee's cupola as it sat down on a high hill, observing with her binoculars the sight ahead, where smoke was rising, coupled with the sounds of cannon fire across the fields and forest.
She then lowered it, sighing. "Gosh, I'm bored."
"Yeah... this is soo boring... just sitting here and doing nothing but some forward observer shit..." Her gunner remarked.
Then, a male voice came in from the radio.
"Thunder 1-1 Actual to OP, do you copy, over?"
Moley picked up the handset, answering. "This is OP... Copy, send in traffic."
"Destruction fire mission at Grid 667164. Target is possibly two or three armoured vehicles located somewhere in the east side near the border of the playing area, around a couple of minutes from the entrance of the forest with a ninety-degree-shaped curved turn, over?"
Once hearing the coordinates, Moley began writing it down on a piece of paper using a pen. "Right, hold one, uhh…" She then pulled out a map in a plastic wrap from the compartment below and placed it on the tank's roof and looked at it before looking back at the view overlooking the entire playing area in front of her with the binoculars, using the references and other descriptions being told over the radio. She then eventually saw a glimpse of a column of Shermans along with the aforementioned enemy tanks. "Thunder 1-1, repeat your last."
"Destruction fire mission at Grid 667164. Target is possibly two or three armoured vehicles located somewhere in the east side near the border of the playing area, around a couple of minutes from the entrance of the forest with a ninety-degree-shaped curved turn, over?"
"Copy... Fire mission is inbound. You might wanna duck down and sit tight; it'll take around 3-5 minutes, out." Moley cleared her throat before then switching the frequency. "Hammer, this is OP. Do you copy, over?"
"This is Hammer; copy, send in traffic."
"Hammer, destruction fire mission at grid 667164; target is possibly two to three armoured vehicles, over?"
"Destruction fire mission at grid 667164; target is possibly two or three armoured vehicles. Confirm, over?"
"Confirm, fire in one barrage, fire for effect, over."
"Copy that, destruction fire mission at Grid 667164, firing for effect."
Moley raised back her binoculars and looked down the hill while still holding the handset radio. The 15 Sherman Calliopes' were protected by the Sherman's, which were well dug in, with their cannons aimed down the field and the surroundings.
A single Calliope could be seen lifting its rocket launcher up as it adjusted the angle needed to aim at the target that was requested earlier. Seconds later, a loud howling sound was heard as its upper rack tubes fired off their content and lit the sky up into bright yellow.
"OP, Hammer. Shot, over."
"Hammer, OP. Shot, out."
The rockets that were launched off left white trails behind as they flew off. The young woman zoomed in at the target location, waiting until the moment she heard another word from Hammer.
"OP, Hammer. Splash, over."
"Hammer, OP. Splash, out."
Seconds later, an explosion could be heard, along with a mushroom cloud. Moley zoomed in with her binoculars, looking at a scene where explosions were everywhere, sending dirt and shrapnel up in the air. It missed by a few meters to the left.
"Hammer, OP. BDA 2 out of 3, one tank remaining. Adjust fire, right 10. Fire for effect, over."
"Copy, adjusting to right 10. Firing for effect."
The same Calliope fired yet another barrage of rockets from the lower yet empty shelf, yet a loud howling sound could be heard as it launched them off to the sky and lit the sky once more.
"OP, Hammer. Shot, over?"
"Hammer, OP. Shot, out."
Seconds and moments went by; Moley observed as the rockets flew in a parabola towards the designated grid. She saw a Panther steering 180, trying to escape fate from the incoming barrage, and then another word came over the radio.
"OP, Hammer. Splash, over?"
"OP, Hammer. Splash out."
The barrage landed onto the earth, slamming the soil and against the Panther that was trying to escape, along with the already wrecked tanks, creating another spectacular explosive scene, lasting for a few seconds before eventually stopping, letting dust settle in. Moley looked closely and saw the white flag finally waving over the last Panther and smirked at the sight before speaking through the handset, confirming the damage that was done.
"Hammer, OP. BDA 3 over 3, all targets destroyed. End of mission, OP out."
"Copy that OP, Hammer out."
Moley released a sigh and placed the handset back onto its place, on top of the radio and placed the map back into the compartment. She then sat back on the commander, releasing another sigh as boredom entered back once more. Another howling sound could be heard from outside, probably from another observer like her delivering fire missions.
"Yo, Molly, wanna go rogue again? This is getting boring as hell." One feminine voice came through her net from her friend, Alexandra.
Molly heard the voice before then answering through the handset. "Nah. Not getting scolded again."
"Oh, come on! I could really use some action down there.."
Should she go rogue again? Molly thought. Well, are there any harms in leaving your post anyway? Not like anyone's going to die or be put on trial. Plus she's bored as hell; there's no way she's going to spend her entire college career in the club just collecting information and calling in fire missions.
"Alright then! Stacy, you stay here and do all the observer work. Alex, change your frequency."
"What?! Hey! Don't leave me behind-" Stacy's voice was cut short as Molly changed channels.
"Driver, take us down!" Molly ordered in an enthusiastic tone and went down the cupola, sitting on the commander's seat, her hands holding onto the walls.
"Right!" The driver switched gears forward, stepping on the pedals, and drove the tank forward.
The Chaffee drove off from the cliff, followed by another Chaffee on the far left. It descended down the steep hill before eventually touching the ground. Molly went back up, standing on the cupola, holding her head as she had just slammed her head against the rear wall of the turret.
"Gosh... It hurts..." Molly's vision went blurry for a moment, along with feeling intense pain in her head. But then she shook her head and ordered to the driver once more. "Alright, keep moving." Molly ordered once more.
The Chaffee's tracks began rolling, its engines roaring as it began traversing across the terrain. Its driver drove through and around obstacles like trees, holes, and large logs before eventually uniting with the other Chaffee that descended earlier.
Moley went out and stood on the cupola, overlooking the environment. She then heard the sound of another engine slowly approaching her moving tank. Then emerged from the bushes, another M24 Chaffee bearing the same symbol on its hull as hers, the white star insignia in low visibility colour matching with the tank's colour.
Another young woman emerged from the cupola of the M24, a silver-haired one that was Alexandra, Moley's colleague, her buddy in the ISR unit. She began waving at her as the two tanks continued being in motion. Moley waved back at her and grabbed the handset from below and used it to talk to her.
"It's all on you if we get killed by Murphy, you know." Moley said jokingly.
"Eh, fuck Murphy. Anyways, wanna hunt some big cats?" Alexandra asked in an enthusiastic tone.
"Hell yeah, time to fuck around." Moley replied with an excited tone before looking down to her driver below. "Full speed ahead!"
The pair of Chaffee's continued traversing through the forest grounds, and on some occasions hitting some puddles of mud, causing them to splash onto them. The ride went on for a couple of minutes until eventually the radio crackled as a voice came over the net on their frequency.
"OP 1 and OP 2, return to your post immediately-" The transmission was soon cut as Moley switched it to another frequency.
"Sorry boss, but I can't hold it." She muttered.
The sound of gunfire began to ease down, and eventually die out. Moley wondered why but she figured it was probably either because them or they were running out of enemies to shoot, atleast to her experience playing on tankery matches.
The sound was soon reduced to only the sound of the two light tank's roaring engines as they continued traversing through the forest. It was until...
"Tiger I, up ahead, 200 meters!" Alexandra's voice was the first thing she heard as soon as she changed the radio's frequency.
Moley soon turned her head forward in the direction where Alexandra pointed out the Tiger I's presence, and she spotted the aforementioned Tiger I, alone and scarred with burns and scratches, probably from the previous preliminary bombardment or engagement with another unit. Last she remembered, when they entered this part of the playing field, the section fell under the responsibility of the 2nd Company, 1st Platoon.
"Moley, you take the left flank; I'll take the right. We'll do a little bit of trolling if you know what I mean." Said Alexandra, her Chaffee immediately shifting directions and beginning manoeuvring to the right and around the Tiger I while still being unnoticed.
"Heh, copy that." Moley then leaned the mic on her tanker helmet to her mouth and began speaking to her crew through it. "Driver, move a bit to the right, we'll be doing an envelopment right here."
"On it." Her driver acknowledged.
"Load that baby in with some shells, and be ready to fire."
"Wilco!" Her loader acknowledged.
The two light tanks began moving around the Tiger I, approaching it slowly from the flanks, without their prey knowing what was about to befall upon them. Soon, a word was shouted through the net from Alexandra as she said.
"Now!" She shouted.
"Move in!" Moley ordered to her driver.
The two tanks turned their direction without missing a single beat and began charging towards the scarred Tiger I, moving at full speed and with engines roaring as they pushed the tank to the absolute limit of their use. Molley hopped back in and braced herself inside the turret compartment, holding onto a bar as she prepared for what was about to come.
"Prepare for impact!"
The cupola from the Tiger I opened, revealing the commander controlling it. The commander was looking to the surroundings, only to see two light tanks charging at them like as if they were about to crash onto them. The commander's eyes widened and time frozen for a moment, as the commander looked at one of the tanks, in a state of shock, how could this ended so badly the commander wondered.
Then time unfroze, and the two light tanks slammed against the sides of the Tiger I, holding it in between two places and bringing it to a complete halt as the heavy tank was pinched. Its tracks was still moving, trying to escape from the two light tanks that was holding it in place but it was no use.
Moley felt a jolt of pain and dizziness streaming through her head upon the impact; their action was of pure craziness and maybe idiocy, out of adrenaline and excitement and thrill, they'd be scolded after this for what they've done but like it would matter anyways, it was fun.
"FIRE!" She yelled while still feeling dizzy.
The gunner was paralysed for a moment after the impact, but upon hearing the shout, immediately placed her fingers back on the trigger and pulled it, causing the gun chamber to lurch back as it spewed out a shell from within, before impacting the Tiger I at point-blank range, but closer as the tip of the barrel itself was touching the surface of the Tiger.
The two Chaffee's fired at the exact same time, spewing out a shell and impacting the sides of the Tiger I, breaking the previously silent forest. A thick smoke emerged along with dirt and dust as they went flying from the breeze the gunfire caused. Moments went by and dust began settling down, revealing the three tanks, each with their white flags popping out. The both light tanks themselves had their barrels turned into a shape of a peeled banana.
Up ahead in the sky, several hundred feet above the surface, an MQ-1 drone was lurking with the logo of the American Tankery Association attached to its surface. It's camera and its sensors was scanning the battlefield below and was particularly observing at the wreck of two Chaffee's pinching a Tiger I. Several signals came into the input; that was the signal of tanks being taken out of action.
"Eight M4A2/A3 Sherman's, 2 M24 Chaffee's, 15 Panther D's, and 3 Tiger I's have been destroyed. All Alligator Tankery Team tank have been destroyed; Boston College Tankery wins. End of report."