Near Hanau, Federal Republic of Germany
1423 hours, 11th November, 1983
The low hum of engines filled the air as French AMX-30s lined up in staggered formations, their camouflaged hulls blending with the charred and muddy landscape. Smoke from the morning's assault still lingered, curling around broken trees and shattered buildings. Éclair stood in her commander's hatch, her gloved hand gripping the edge as her sharp gaze swept over the lines of tanks and armored vehicles.
"Fondue, report," she ordered, her voice steady and clipped.
Fondue, perched slightly below in the loader's position, glanced at her notes. "2nd Platoon is in position. Fuel and ammunition are sufficient for the push. Galette's rechecked our optics; everything's aligned."
"Good," Éclair replied, her gaze narrowing as she spotted movement ahead—a pair of engineers clearing debris from the road. Her jaw tightened. "We'll need every advantage to punch through this time."
Across the staging area, the faint hiss of static buzzed through the radio before Asparagus's voice cut through. "Éclair, 2nd Platoon ready?"
Éclair keyed her mic. "Ready and waiting, Captain."
"Andou's recon report confirms fortified positions ahead," Asparagus continued. "Expect dug-in T-80s, BMPs, and infantry with anti-tank capabilities. Precision will be key. 1st Platoon will spearhead the assault. 2nd Platoon will cover the left flank and exploit any breaches."
"Understood," Éclair said sharply, her eyes flicking to her crew. Fondue nodded silently, while Galette adjusted the controls with practiced precision.
A crackling laugh broke over the comms as Marie's voice chimed in, languid and amused. "Exploit breaches, hmm? Sounds like Asparagus is finally letting us have some fun."
Oshida's voice followed with a sharp retort. "Maybe if you'd focus for five minutes, Marie, we wouldn't have to carry your weight."
"Andou," Asparagus's voice cut through the banter like a whip. "Status on recon?"
Rena Andou's voice came in crisp, professional. "Forward elements confirm enemy armor entrenched around grid point Bravo-Two. Infantry positions near the treeline, supported by BMPs. They're regrouping after the earlier push, but they're ready for us."
"Noted. Return to formation," Asparagus replied. "All units, prepare to advance."
Éclair exhaled slowly, her grip on the hatch tightening as her tank's engine roared to life. She glanced at Fondue, who offered a calm, reassuring nod. "Ready to show them what France is made of?"
Fondue smiled faintly. "Always."
Éclair keyed her comms, her voice steady and clear. "2nd Platoon, form up. On my mark, we advance. Let's show these Soviets what happens when they underestimate us."
Galette smirked from her position. "Bold words. Let's hope they don't come back to bite us."
"They won't," Éclair replied firmly, her resolve unwavering. "Not while we're here."
In the distance, the faint rumble of Soviet artillery began anew, the ground trembling under the promise of another brutal engagement. Éclair's AMX-30B2 growled steadily as it rolled into formation with the rest of 2nd Platoon. Inside the tank, the atmosphere was thick with tension but laced with the kind of camaraderie that came from countless drills and missions together.
Mousse, Éclair's driver, leaned back slightly in her seat, her hands steady on the controls as she guided the tank into position. Her voice came through the intercom, low and steady, with the slightest lilt of her Breton accent. "We're good to go, Lieutenant. Tracks are running smooth, though I'd kill for a proper road instead of this mud."
Galette, Éclair's gunner, smirked from her station, glancing toward the driver's seat. "Ah, poor Mousse, longing for paved streets like a city girl. What's next? Complaining about the rain?"
Mousse let out a soft chuckle, her tone light but firm. "You're one to talk, Galette. Aren't you the one who said you'd trade your optics for a roof the last time we camped in the open?"
"Touché," Galette muttered, though her smirk didn't fade.
Fondue chimed in from her loader's position, her voice warm and teasing. "Let's focus, ladies. The Soviets aren't going to care about the weather when they see us coming."
Éclair's voice cut through the banter, sharp and commanding. "That's enough. Save the jokes for after we've cleared the line." Despite her tone, there was a faint edge of amusement in her expression as she glanced down at Fondue. "Mousse, take us to the rally point. Galette, be ready to sight targets the moment we crest the hill."
"Aye, Lieutenant," Mousse replied, her hands steady on the controls as the tank rolled forward. Despite her cool demeanor, the faint hum of Breton pride crept into her voice. "And don't worry, Galette. I'll keep us steady enough for you to actually hit something."
Galette snorted, adjusting her optics. "Careful, Mousse. Keep talking like that, and I might start thinking you're useful."
Fondue shook her head with a soft laugh, leaning back against her seat. "You two are impossible."
The tank settled into formation, the rhythmic rumble of engines filling the air. Éclair allowed herself a brief glance at the horizon, her grip tightening on the edge of the hatch. The Soviets were waiting, and the battle ahead would demand everything from her crew. But in the moments of calm before the storm, she felt a flicker of confidence in the people she shared her tank with.
The French line advanced steadily, the AMX-30s cutting across the battered landscape like predators on the hunt. The ground was churned mud and ash, a testament to the morning's brutal combat. Overhead, the faint drone of jet engines marked the combined effort to break the Soviets' hold on the region.
Éclair's tank led 2nd Platoon, her voice crisp over the comms. "Galette, keep your sights on that treeline. Fondue, watch for infantry with RPGs. They'll be waiting to take advantage of any gaps in our formation."
"Copy that," Galette replied, her tone clipped. The gun swiveled slightly as she scanned the shadows ahead.
From the right flank, Marie's voice chimed in, dripping with casual confidence. "Oshida, how are we looking on your side? Not planning to let Andou show us up, are you?"
Oshida snorted audibly over the comms. "As if. Unlike some people, I don't take naps between orders."
"And yet here I am, carrying the weight of brilliance," Marie quipped back, the smirk audible in her voice.
"Enough chatter," Asparagus snapped, her stern tone cutting through. "Stay focused. We're approaching the Soviet perimeter."
The tension ratcheted up as the first shots rang out. A Soviet BMP fired its autocannon from a concealed position in the treeline, the sharp rattle of its rounds cutting through the afternoon air. Éclair's grip tightened on the hatch as she shouted into the intercom.
"Galette, target that BMP! HE, on my mark!"
"Got it," Galette replied, her sights locking onto the flicker of muzzle flash in the distance.
"Fire!" Éclair ordered.
The AMX-30's gun thundered, the high-explosive round streaking toward the BMP and slamming into its side. The explosion sent smoke and debris flying, and Éclair allowed herself a brief nod of satisfaction as the vehicle erupted into flames.
Fondue's voice cut through. "Contact on the left! Infantry moving to flank!"
"Turn us to cover!" Éclair barked. The tank shifted slightly as Galette adjusted the turret, locking onto the advancing Soviet infantry. She fired again, the round striking the ground in front of them and sending dirt and shrapnel into the advancing troops.
Across the comms, Andou's voice came through, steady and professional. "Enemy armor is repositioning—T-80s moving up to reinforce. They're holding their secondary line just ahead of us."
"Understood," Asparagus replied. "1st Platoon, maintain pressure on their right. 2nd Platoon, keep the left secure. Don't let them envelop us."
Éclair keyed her mic. "2nd Platoon, hold formation! Galette, Mousse—keep us mobile and responsive. They'll be gunning for anyone lagging behind."
Behind her, Marie's tank fired a shot, and Isabe's calm voice came through the comms. "Enemy BMP destroyed. Targeting infantry next."
Oshida's voice followed, sharp and tinged with adrenaline. "Incoming fire! RPG, ten o'clock!"
Éclair twisted in her hatch, spotting the telltale smoke trail of a rocket streaking toward Marie's tank. She tensed as the round struck the AMX-30's sloped armor, deflecting off with a loud clang but leaving a visible dent.
"Still standing!" Marie announced, her voice carrying a mix of relief and pride. "Sofue, let's reposition—give them something else to aim at."
Éclair's tank surged forward as Fondue barked a quick update. "Another BMP in the treeline! They're covering a fallback position!"
"Galette, HE again—fire!" Éclair commanded.
The shot rang out, slamming into the BMP's turret and silencing its autocannon. Éclair keyed the comms, her voice cutting across the chatter. "Keep up the pressure, 2nd Platoon! Don't let them regroup!"
Through the smoke and chaos, the French tanks pressed on, their disciplined formations and precise coordination carving through the Soviet positions. Éclair's pulse pounded in her ears as she scanned the battlefield, her focus narrowing to the immediate threats and the rhythm of her crew's efforts.
"Fondue, how's our ammo?" she called down.
"We're holding steady," Fondue replied, though her voice carried a faint edge of tension.
"Good. We'll need every round if we're going to break their line," Éclair muttered.
Over the comms, Andou's voice came through again. "Soviet armor is repositioning. T-80s moving to counter. They're trying to box us in."
"Asparagus, we need those flanks secured!" Éclair urged.
Asparagus's response was calm and resolute. "Hold your position, Éclair. 1st Platoon is already moving to intercept. Focus on clearing the left."
Éclair clenched her teeth, her grip tightening on the mic. "Understood."
The battle raged on, the French AMX-30s weaving through the battlefield with precision and purpose. For every Soviet vehicle destroyed, another seemed to take its place, the relentless push of both sides colliding in a brutal contest of fire and steel.
Through it all, Éclair's voice carried through the chaos, rallying her platoon with sharp orders and unwavering resolve. They would hold. They would press on. The Soviet line would break, no matter the cost.
The rhythmic pounding of cannon fire echoed across the battlefield as Éclair's AMX-30B2 roared forward, weaving through the churned-up terrain. The air was thick with the acrid smell of smoke and burning metal, mingling with the faint tang of diesel fuel. Her eyes flicked between the battlefield and her periscope, the chaos outside blurring into a sharp focus through years of practice.
"Mousse, take us closer to that ridge," Éclair commanded, her voice firm but calm. "We'll get a better angle on the treeline."
"Acknowledged, Lieutenant," Mousse replied, her hands steady on the controls as the tank lurched forward. The AMX-30 navigated the uneven ground with practiced ease, its engine growling under the strain.
"Movement, eleven o'clock!" Galette's voice cut through the comms, her sights locked onto a group of Soviet infantry sprinting between cover. "They're trying to regroup behind the BMP wreckage."
"Fondue, HE ready," Éclair ordered, her tone clipped. "Galette, take the shot."
The tank's main gun thundered, and the high-explosive round detonated in a plume of fire and dirt, scattering the infantry. Éclair watched as the survivors scrambled back toward the treeline, their retreat momentarily halting the pressure on 2nd Platoon's left flank.
"Nice shot," Fondue murmured, a rare smile tugging at her lips. "That should keep them from getting too bold."
Galette snorted, her hands deftly adjusting the turret. "Let's see how bold they feel when the next round lands closer."
Before Éclair could respond, the radio crackled with an urgent message from Marie. "Contact! Enemy armor on the ridge—two T-80s moving to intercept!"
Éclair's heart tightened as she keyed her mic. "2nd Platoon, prepare for armor engagement! Hold your positions and target weak points—don't let them push through!"
From her vantage point, she could see the Soviet tanks cresting the ridge, their dark silhouettes cutting through the smoke. The lead T-80 fired, its shot slamming into the ground just short of Marie's position, sending a shower of debris against her tank's hull.
"Marie, pull back and reposition!" Éclair ordered sharply.
"I'm on it!" Marie's voice came through, uncharacteristically serious as her tank shifted into reverse, her crew scrambling to adjust. The T-80 fired again, its shell glancing off the AMX-30's turret with a deafening clang.
Éclair twisted in her hatch, scanning the ridge as another T-80 maneuvered into position. "Galette, target the one on the left. Mousse, keep us moving—don't give them a clear shot."
"On it, Lieutenant!" Galette responded, her sights narrowing on the Soviet tank. The AMX-30's gun roared, and the AP round streaked toward its target. The shell struck true, punching through the T-80's side armor and sending smoke billowing from its engine compartment.
"Hit!" Fondue called out, her voice laced with relief.
The remaining T-80 retaliated, its round slamming into a nearby French tank and igniting its fuel reserves. The explosion lit up the battlefield, and Éclair felt the shockwave rattle through her own tank.
"Stay focused!" she barked, her voice cutting through the comms. "We've got them on the ropes—don't let up!"
From the right, Andou's voice came through the radio, steady and precise. "Enemy infantry massing near the ridge. They're moving to flank the lead elements—recommend immediate suppression."
Éclair keyed her mic. "1st Platoon, shift fire to the right and support Andou's position. 2nd Platoon, maintain pressure on the ridge!"
The AMX-30 surged forward, its tracks grinding through the mud as Mousse expertly navigated the battlefield. Galette fired another shot, the AP round striking the second T-80's turret ring and disabling its gun. The Soviet tank shuddered to a halt, smoke pouring from its hatches as the crew began to bail out.
"Another one down," Galette reported, her voice edged with grim satisfaction.
"Good work," Éclair replied, her eyes scanning the battlefield for the next threat. She keyed the comms again. "2nd Platoon, advance to the ridge and secure the position. We've got to hold until 1st Platoon finishes the flank."
The platoon moved as one, their tanks advancing in a tight formation that showcased their discipline and coordination. Soviet infantry fired sporadically from the treeline, their resistance faltering under the relentless French assault.
As they crested the ridge, Éclair's tank came to a halt, the battlefield spreading out before them. Smoke and fire marked the Soviet positions, their once-formidable line now fragmented and in disarray. But the fight was far from over—more Soviet reinforcements were visible in the distance, their silhouettes emerging like shadows through the haze.
Éclair exhaled slowly, her grip on the hatch tightening. "We hold here," she said firmly, her voice carrying over the comms. "No matter what they throw at us, we hold."
The French tanks settled into defensive positions, their guns trained on the advancing Soviet forces. The ground trembled with the distant rumble of engines, a stark reminder that the battle was far from decided. But for now, 2nd Platoon held the ridge—and Éclair was determined to keep it that way.
The Soviet reinforcements surged forward, their dark shapes cutting through the smoke like predators stalking prey. Éclair's heart pounded in her chest as the first shells screamed through the air, slamming into the ridge and kicking up plumes of dirt and fire. The French line adjusted swiftly, tanks fanning out into defensive positions while maintaining overlapping fields of fire.
"Enemy armor, incoming!" Fondue shouted, her voice sharp with urgency as the first T-80s appeared on the horizon. "At least six, with infantry support!"
"Stay calm, stay focused," Éclair replied, her voice steady as she keyed her mic. "Galette, target the lead tank. Mousse, hold us steady."
"On it," Galette muttered, her hands already adjusting the optics. The AMX-30 shuddered as its cannon roared, the AP round streaking across the battlefield. The lead T-80 jolted as the shell struck its side armor, but it continued forward, its thick plating absorbing the blow.
"Damn it," Galette hissed, quickly reloading. "They've reinforced their flanks."
A new roar echoed across the battlefield, deeper and more resonant than the others. Éclair's blood ran cold as she spotted the unmistakable silhouette of a command T-80 pushing forward, its gun swiveling with predatory intent. Its first shot rang out, the shell slamming into an AMX-30B2 to Éclair's right. The French tank erupted in a fiery explosion, its crew scrambling to escape the inferno.
"Command tank," Fondue murmured, her voice tight. "That's going to be trouble."
"It already is," Éclair replied, her gaze narrowing as the T-80 repositioned with practiced precision. "Galette, prioritize that tank. Fondue, HE ready—we need to break their infantry support."
"Loading," Fondue said, her movements quick and efficient despite the tension gripping the crew.
The command T-80 fired again, its round punching through an AMX-10 RC from Andou's recon detachment. The light armored vehicle exploded violently, the force of the blast sending debris flying across the battlefield. Andou's voice crackled over the comms, a mix of frustration and alarm.
"They're targeting us specifically!" Andou snapped. "What do they have against recon?"
"Stay mobile, Andou!" Éclair shouted back, her eyes tracking the T-80 as it adjusted its position. "Keep their attention divided—don't let them pin you down!"
"Easier said than done," Andou muttered, her AMX-10 weaving through the chaos as another shell narrowly missed her position, tearing a crater in the ground just meters away.
Marie's voice broke through the comms, tinged with her usual bravado despite the rising tension. "Oh, come on, is that the best they've got? Oshida, Isabe, get that gun ready—I want their turret spinning by the time we're done."
Her confidence was short-lived. The command T-80 shifted its sights toward Marie's tank, its barrel lowering with deadly precision. Éclair's breath caught as the Soviet gun fired, the shell streaking toward the AMX-30 with terrifying speed.
"Sofue, move!" Marie shouted, her driver reacting instantly. The AMX-30 lurched forward, its treads catching on uneven terrain and sending the tank into a shallow depression just as the shell arrived. The round skimmed off the sloped turret, striking the ground behind the tank with a deafening explosion.
"Close call!" Oshida yelled, her voice ringing through the comms. "That thing's out for blood!"
Marie exhaled sharply, her usual poise shaken. "Noted. Sofue, keep us moving—I don't want to give them another chance."
Éclair clenched her jaw, her grip on the hatch tightening. The command T-80 was systematically dismantling their formation, its crew displaying an unnerving level of skill and precision. "Galette, take the shot. Fondue, be ready with HE if they press their infantry forward."
"Lining it up," Galette replied, her voice tense but controlled. She adjusted her sights, her focus narrowing as she tracked the T-80's movements. The AMX-30's gun roared, the AP round streaking toward the Soviet tank. The shot struck its frontal armor, leaving a blackened scar but failing to penetrate.
"They've reinforced their front plating," Galette muttered, her frustration evident.
"They're not invincible," Éclair replied firmly. "We'll find a way through."
The command T-80 fired again, its round slamming into another AMX-30B2. The French tank's turret spun violently as the shell detonated inside, the crew's screams lost amidst the chaos. Éclair felt the loss keenly but pushed the emotions aside, her focus laser-sharp on the task at hand.
"Mousse, reposition us," she ordered. "We need a better angle. Galette, keep the gun trained on that tank—we're not letting it run this battlefield."
The AMX-30 rumbled forward, weaving through the churned earth as Soviet and French shells crisscrossed the battlefield. In the distance, Andou's recon vehicles darted between cover, their lighter frames allowing them to evade the brunt of the Soviet assault. But the T-80's crew was relentless, its turret swiveling with unnerving speed to track and fire on any target that strayed too close.
"Éclair, we need to neutralize that command tank now," Asparagus's voice came over the comms, her usual calm edged with urgency. "They're tearing through our line."
"We're on it," Éclair replied, her jaw tightening. She keyed her mic again, her voice cutting through the chaos. "2nd Platoon, focus fire on the command tank. Everyone else, suppress their flanks—don't give them room to maneuver."
Galette fired again, her round striking the T-80's side armor as it turned to engage another target. The impact staggered the tank, but it recovered quickly, its gun swiveling back toward the French line.
"They're too well-coordinated," Fondue muttered, her hands gripping the loader's controls. "It's like they know what we're going to do before we do it."
"Then we'll have to outthink them," Éclair replied, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the battlefield for an opening. "Galette, switch to HE—if we can't take out the tank, we'll cripple their support."
The French line held firm, their disciplined fire keeping the Soviets at bay despite the mounting pressure. But the command T-80 loomed large over the battlefield, its relentless assault threatening to break the fragile balance Éclair and her platoon had fought so hard to maintain.
Éclair's jaw tightened as she gripped the edge of the hatch, her mind racing. The command T-80 was systematically dismantling their line, and every second they spent trading fire brought them closer to collapse. Her platoon couldn't afford to lose any more tanks—or time.
"We're closing the gap," Éclair said abruptly, her voice sharp with determination.
Fondue's head snapped up from her loader's position. "Wait, what?"
"We're moving in. Point-blank range if we have to," Éclair replied, already keying her mic to relay the order. "Mousse, take us in! Stay low and fast!"
Mousse hesitated, her hands steady on the controls but her voice tinged with uncertainty. "You're serious? Closing on a T-80? That's madness."
Galette spun toward Éclair, her face pale despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. "It's not just madness—it's suicide! That thing will rip us apart before we get within fifty meters!"
"It's focusing on the others," Éclair snapped, her voice cutting through the commotion. "If we hit it hard enough, fast enough, it won't have time to react. Fondue, AP at the ready. Galette, track it—don't lose sight of that tank!"
Galette let out a sharp breath, her hands already adjusting the optics to keep the T-80 centered. "This is insane," she muttered. "Completely insane."
"But you're still tracking it," Fondue pointed out, her voice calm despite the chaos. She reached for the next AP round, her movements practiced and efficient. "AP loaded."
"Because I don't want to die blind," Galette shot back, though her tone held grudging acceptance. "Mousse, you better keep this thing moving. One clean hit, and we're done."
"On it," Mousse said, her Breton accent thicker under the stress as she jammed the throttle forward. The AMX-30 lurched ahead, its engine roaring as it tore across the battered terrain. Mud and debris flew in its wake, the tank weaving erratically to make itself a harder target.
Ahead, the T-80 loomed like a steel juggernaut, its gun swiveling toward another French tank as it absorbed a barrage of fire from Éclair's platoon. The coordinated assault was forcing it to reposition, its crew under relentless pressure. Éclair gritted her teeth as the tank's turret rotated, the barrel swinging dangerously close to their path.
"They're pulling back!" Galette shouted. "It's trying to disengage!"
"Not if we get there first," Éclair replied, her voice cold and steady. "Mousse, keep us steady. Galette, be ready to fire the moment you have a shot."
The command T-80's engine growled as it began reversing, its crew clearly aware of the threat posed by the advancing French tank. Shells from other AMX-30s rained down on it, several glancing off its armor but keeping its crew off-balance. Still, its gun tracked toward Éclair's tank, the muzzle dipping as it lined up a shot.
"Evasive!" Éclair barked.
Mousse jerked the controls, the AMX-30 veering sharply to the left as the T-80 fired. The Soviet shell screamed past them, kicking up a geyser of dirt and smoke just meters away. The tank shook violently from the near miss, but Mousse didn't falter, pushing them even closer.
"We're in range!" Fondue called, gripping the loader's controls tightly. "Galette, fire!"
"Hold!" Éclair snapped, her eyes locked on the T-80 as it tried to retreat further. "Not yet!"
The Soviet tank fired again, this time striking another AMX-30 on Éclair's left flank. The French tank shuddered under the impact, smoke billowing from its engine as its crew scrambled to evacuate. Éclair ignored the chaos, her focus narrowing to the command tank as it continued to reverse.
"Closer!" she urged. "Mousse, push it!"
"I'm pushing it as hard as I can!" Mousse shot back, her knuckles white on the controls.
Just as Éclair opened her mouth to give the order to fire, the T-80 swiveled its turret back toward them. Éclair's stomach dropped as the Soviet gun fired, the shell striking their tank's right track with a deafening clang. The AMX-30 lurched violently, its right side dropping as the track was shredded. The tank skidded to a halt, tilting awkwardly as it ground to a stop.
"Track's gone!" Mousse shouted, her voice tight with frustration. "We're immobilized!"
"Smoke launchers—now!" Éclair ordered.
Fondue hit the controls without hesitation, a volley of smoke canisters bursting from the tank's sides. Thick white plumes billowed into the air, enveloping the AMX-30 in a dense, obscuring cloud. The battlefield vanished in an instant, the smoke cutting off their line of sight—but also shielding them from the T-80.
"We're blind!" Galette snapped, her hands frozen over the controls. "I can't see a thing!"
"Neither can they," Éclair replied, her voice steady despite the pounding of her heart. "Hold position. Wait for the smoke to clear."
Inside the tank, the crew held their breath, the seconds stretching into an eternity. The roar of engines and the crack of gunfire echoed dimly through the haze, the chaos of the battlefield reduced to muffled noise. Éclair's hand tightened on the edge of the hatch, her mind racing through contingency plans.
Finally, the smoke began to dissipate, the swirling clouds thinning to reveal the battlefield beyond. Éclair scanned the horizon, her eyes darting to where the command T-80 had been moments earlier.
It was gone.
"Where is it?" Fondue asked, her voice low and tense.
Galette frantically adjusted her optics, sweeping the area for any sign of the Soviet tank. "It's not here," she muttered, her tone disbelieving. "It's just… gone."
Éclair clenched her fists, her frustration simmering beneath the surface. The T-80 had slipped away, its crew retreating under the cover of smoke and chaos. But she couldn't let that distract her. There was still a battle to win.
"Fondue, reload. Galette, keep scanning. Mousse, keep the engine running—we're not out of this yet," Éclair ordered, her voice steady despite the tension gripping her crew.
The command T-80 might have escaped, but Éclair's determination remained unshaken. The fight wasn't over, and she would see it through to the end.
Near Hanau, Federal Republic of Germany
1503 hours, 11th November, 1983
Asparagus's AMX-30 rumbled to a halt atop a small rise, its turret swiveling to track the Soviet line as it began to crumble. The once-organized Soviet defensive positions were falling apart under the relentless pressure from the French assault. Smoke and flames erupted from BMPs and disabled T-80s as her 1st Platoon hammered the retreating forces with disciplined precision.
But even as victory loomed closer, her sharp eyes caught Éclair's tank in the distance, stalled amidst the chaos. Smoke hung heavy around it, a gaping wound in the right track exposing its immobilized state. Her hand clenched the edge of her hatch.
"Éclair," Asparagus said into her mic, her tone biting despite the relief in her chest. "What in God's name were you thinking?"
There was a pause before Éclair's voice crackled back, breathless but resolute. "Closing the gap, Captain. We forced the command tank to retreat. They're falling back."
Asparagus exhaled through her nose, her jaw tightening. "Falling back isn't the same as being defeated, Éclair. You put your crew at unnecessary risk. That kind of gamble won't always pay off."
"Understood, Captain," Éclair replied, though her tone held an edge of defiance. "But it did pay off. 2nd Platoon held, and the Soviets are retreating."
She couldn't argue with that. Asparagus watched as the last of the Soviet vehicles disappeared over the horizon, their once-formidable line now a disorganized mess of smoke and wreckage. Her fingers tapped the edge of the hatch as she weighed her next orders.
"Moule," she said, glancing toward her gunner, "keep the turret trained on their rear. If they decide to counter, I want the first shot."
"Understood," Moule replied, her voice cool and composed as her hands worked the controls.
"Asparagus," Bordeaux called from her loader's position, "what's the word? Are we pushing, or are we holding?"
"We hold," Asparagus replied sharply, keying her mic again. "All units, maintain positions. 1st Platoon, consolidate and provide covering fire for 2nd Platoon's recovery. Éclair, get your crew ready for extraction."
"Copy that," Éclair responded, her voice steady but subdued.
Asparagus scanned the battlefield again, her critical eye catching the movements of the other French tanks as they adjusted their formations. The Soviets were retreating, but this wasn't a victory to celebrate—it was a brief reprieve in a battle that was far from over.
"Captain," Andou's voice broke through the comms, clipped and urgent. "Recon confirms enemy forces pulling back to secondary positions east of the river. Looks like they're setting up for a counterattack."
"Understood, Andou," Asparagus replied. "Good work. Return to formation and keep an eye on their movements. If they're regrouping, I want to know where and how many."
"Copy," Andou said, her AMX-10 speeding off to reposition.
Marie's voice chimed in next, her usual lighthearted tone tempered by the adrenaline of the fight. "Well, Captain, I think we've given them quite the scare. Don't suppose we can call it a day?"
"Not a chance," Asparagus replied, her tone sharp. "This fight isn't over until the Soviets are out of Hanau completely. You'll rest when I say you can rest."
Marie sighed dramatically, though there was a faint smile in her voice. "Understood, Captain. You're as merciless as ever."
Asparagus ignored the comment, her focus shifting back to the larger picture. The French line was holding, but the cost had been high. Several tanks from both platoons were damaged or destroyed, and the battlefield was littered with the smoking remains of Soviet and NATO vehicles alike.
She keyed her mic again, addressing the entire company. "All units, regroup and rearm. This isn't over. We've forced them back, but they'll return—and when they do, we'll be ready."
As the French forces began to consolidate, Asparagus leaned back in her seat for a moment, allowing herself a rare moment of reflection. The weight of command pressed heavily on her shoulders, but she couldn't afford to falter—not now, not ever.
"Bordeaux," she said, her voice softer but still firm, "check our ammo and fuel. I want a full report within five minutes."
"On it," Bordeaux replied, already moving to take stock.
Moule glanced back at her, one eyebrow raised. "You're thinking ahead again. You don't trust them to stay gone, do you?"
Asparagus shook her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. "No. This retreat isn't a rout—it's a regroup. They'll come back, Moule, and when they do, they'll be ready for us. We can't afford to be anything less than perfect."
Moule nodded, returning to her controls without another word.
The radio crackled again, and Éclair's voice came through. "Captain, our tank is immobile. The track's gone, but we're still combat-effective. Requesting orders."
Asparagus's voice was clipped but steady. "Stay where you are, Éclair. Recovery units will reach you soon. In the meantime, keep your crew alert and your position secure. You've done enough for today."
"Understood," Éclair replied.
Asparagus let out a slow breath, her gaze sweeping the battlefield one last time. The smoke was beginning to clear, revealing the full extent of the destruction they had wrought. But the battle wasn't over yet, and she knew the Soviets wouldn't give up so easily.
"We'll be ready," she murmured to herself, her hands tightening on the edge of the hatch. "No matter what comes next, we'll be ready."
As the company regrouped and prepared for the next phase, Asparagus remained vigilant, her eyes fixed on the horizon. The Soviets might have retreated, but the war was far from over. And if they thought the French would give them an inch without a fight, they were sorely mistaken.