text: Standing on the turret of his tank, the “Shining Lance”, Sir Jerrod looked out across the dusty sun blasted plain. It was midsummer, and the land had not seen rain in nearly a month. Normally green fields were brown, the soil baked and cracked, the soft gusts of hot wind kicking up dust devils across the gently sloping valley. Looking along the line of waiting tanks, each decorated with unique heradly that had faded over the long campaign, Sir Jerrod saw the signal flags go up from the Lord-Commanders vehicle. “It’s time to advance, mount up!” “At your command Sir. Ready?” “Ready!” “Ok, spool her up!” Gunner Fio took hold of the crank handle at the rear of the tank and started to turn it. Driver Rik, hearing the sound from the driver's seat, began to feather the throttle, the engine coughing then roaring into life, dark smoke puffing out of the rear exhausts. Fio hopped up the back of the tank and went through the rear turret hatch to settle himself in the gunner's seat. Sir Jerrod got into the commander's position in the turret, standing for the time being exposed out the top of the hatch. He pulled on his earpiece, then his Sallet over the top. “This is Lead, test test test, you all receive?” “This is Driver, all received.” “Gunner, all received Sir.” “Ok, standby.” Sir Jerrod glanced with faded blue eyes across at the Command vehicle. This time he heard the command as well as saw the signal flag; “All units, this is Main, standby advance half speed; advance, advance.” “Driver, half forward towards the crest.” “Received.” The Shining Lance gently began to move forwards, it’s worn tracks digging into the hard dirt and kicking up dust as the tank slowly accelerated. Sir Jerrod looked out across the line, 33 tanks in total and 120 hand-gonners, all advancing in line. With all this dust, it would be hard to disguise their approach. The land before them gradually sloped down towards a shallow valley where a small drovers' path sided by low wooden fences ran across their route.Past the path the slope began to slope up again. At the end of the valley to their left, where the slope began to rise, was a small wood that ran up over the crest of the hill and beyond. From scouting the previous night, they knew that the Silano forces were arrayed on the plateau at the top of the slope, where they had set up a staging camp. Not the strong defensive position one would normally choose for such a thing, it was believed that they had chosen it for convenience, to speed their way inland towards the Eastern hinterlands where the frontlines were. Lord Commander Phelief had led his force on an exhausting flanking maneuver for the last three nights, a daring move aiming to get into the underbelly of the Silano forces and gut them, finishing this conflict before it really started. If successful, they would cut the main Silano force off from their reinforcements, but it was a risk; three days of travel had nearly emptied their tanks, the extra cans of fuel they had taken with them all empty. If this attack was not successful and they could not capture the enemy's fuel reserve, they would not have the fuel left over to return. Sir Jerrod knew that all strategy depended on the balance of risk and reward, but this particular situation made him nervous. But he could also feel this desperation fuel him, fuel all of them. They were like wolves, hungry, stalking their prey. “Loud wolves”, Sir Jerrod said quietly to himself, with a smirk. Tanks are not good for sneaking up on much. The Lord Commanders voice came on over the radio; “1st Company, veer left into the woods, 2nd and 3rd companies continue straight, then stop short of the ridgeline. Do not be seen”. “Driver, veer left”, Sir Jerrod instructed, “we’re heading into the trees”. “Received, Sir”. As the woods spilled out onto the plateau, they would be trying to use them to mask the movements of the 1st Company long enough for them to get into a flanking position. Based on the location of the camp, having 1st company in the treeline and 2nd and 3rd companies on the ridge, the enemy camp would be caught in the crossfire provided by the “L” shaped deployment. At least that was the plan. Most units didn’t like operating in wooded areas, but the tanks of the Dolmet Royal Army were better suited than most for such a task, designed for use in the narrow mountain passes and small meadows and villages of their homeland, the three man Galator model tanks had shorter gun barrels with good elevation and depression, making it easier to swing them around in confined environments, but it did come at the cost of power and range. As they drew into the woods, Sir Jarrod reached for the pintle mounted machine gun, and pulled back the charging lever. “Gunner, load HE rounds, don't stop visual scans”. “Loading HE.” Sir Jarrod felt the clunk and snap of the round being fed into the breach of the main gun. He wanted their first shot into the camp to cause as much confusion and panic as possible. If they could, they’d target an ammunition dump. Just not the fuel. The trees drew in around them, reflecting the sound of their engine back at them. It sounded deafening. He wondered what types of trees they were, they had lots of small teardrop shaped leaves on the branches that appeared a very light shade of grey. They all shook together in the slightest breeze, as if the tree was shivering. The Shining Lance was set to be on the very end of the line, the extreme left. It was custom that more experienced crew go to the far flanks, as they held a greater responsibility for not allowing the line to be flanked. One by one, as the 1st Company and it’s supporting infantry advanced through the woods, a tank would peel off right towards the treeline where it would lie in wait, a small squad of infantry going with each tank. This continued until the Shining Lance was the last tank to turn. Sir Jerrod noted just before their turn that they were about to go into a small open meadow in the woods. As they did, the brilliant sunlight of the open sky dazzled him, so bright compared to the dark closeness of the woods. It so dazzled him that for a second, he did not first see the Silano soldiers all around him, staring slack jawed at the tank that had apparently materialised in front of them. Then he did see them. “Shit”. One of the soldiers screamed “Alarm!” and picked up his weapon. Sir Jerrod swung the machine gun in their direction and loosed off a quick burst that cut the soldier down, the sharp snap of gunfire cutting through the relative silence of before like a knife. Suddenly there were some men sprinting away in all directions, others picking up their weapons and firing at the tank, rounds ricocheting off it’s steel flanks, Sir Jerrod furiously returning fire with the MG. “Gunner, fire at will!” The main gun spoke, the tank vibrating violently as the propellant charge detonated within the breach, propelling the 50mm shell out of the barrel at just over 800 meters a second. The shell hit the ground near a knot of men firing at them from across the meadow, detonating and throwing several of them back, the force of the shell and shrapnel tearing their flesh and fragmenting bones. That seemed to end the last attempt at resistance, the last of the soldiers disappearing into the trees. The whole action had lasted less than 20 seconds. “Driver, hard right and full speed towards the treeline, they know we’re here! Gunner, load AP. Main, this is 1/11, we have enemy contact in the trees, infantry only, repeat we have been engaged.” As they drove quickly out of the meadow and towards the treeline, he noticed buckets full of small berries left abandoned on the grass. A foraging party. Just their luck. The Shining Lance drew to the edge of the forest overlooking the plateau to find chaos. A camp of tents, trenches, foxholes and parked vehicles sat approximately 300 meters in front of them.Fires and black billowing smoke rose from various parts of the camp, and men ran back and forth, trying to set up defensive positions in the sparse earthworks they had set up. The first few enemy armoured vehicles had started up, chunky rounded things with hull mounted main guns, called Rondels. The tanks of 1st company and supporting infantry were already firing at the camp, and the Shining Lance joined in. A Rondel had targeted them, but fired it’s round a touch high, the shell screaming above them, ripping and tearing through the branches of the trees before disappearing to detonate far behind them. Sir Jerrod had hunkered back down into the turret, closing the hatch behind him. “Gunner, target at 105 degrees, approx 300 meters, aim for the gun port.” “Target in sight.” “Fire!” The tank rocked as the shell arced out. Gunner Fio’s aim had been true, and the AP round with it’s hardened tip had penetrated the enemy gunner’s viewport, detonating inside the vehicle with a hail of shrapnel to kill the crew. “Adjust right 15 degrees, second target at approx 320 meters, angled armour.” “Target acquired” “Fire!” The second shell fell low and hit the tracks of the other tank, breaking it. As the Rondel turned to acquire the Shining Lance as it’s target, the tracks slipped off and the vehicles exposed drive wheel and running wheels began to dig into the earth, stopping it from rotating. After a second, the crew began spilling out of their immobilized tank, just before another shell slammed into it’s other side, this one penetrating the armour and fuel tank, causing it to catch fire. Sir Jarrod could see that despite the initial damage they had caused, more of the Rondels were being crewed and turning their attention towards the treeline. A shell struck the Galator tank nearest to the Shining Lance which must have hit the ammunition, for the entire tank exploded instantly. The infantry who had been firing from near it were cut to ribbons by scything pieces of metal coming from the destroyed tank. “Gods.” Sir Jerrod could see the Rondel that had fired that shell turning to take them next. “Gunner, on him!” “Standby” “Driver, ready to advance.” “Ready!” “Sir I have him! “Fire!” The shell struck the Rondel near the gun mantlet, wedging for a millisecond in the joint before detonating, bending the barrel. Fio whooped at such a lucky shot. At that moment, 2nd and 3rd companies emerged from the ridgeline and opened fire, tearing into the exposed flank of the Rondel tanks facing the treeline. “Driver full ahead, now!” \- I wrote this all in one go at 4 in the morning after I had 1 too many coffee's.