>“Hammer 1, this is Zeus Actual, we are pulling back to the 2nd line of defense. Soviet Mi-28s are inbound from the North-Northeast; fall back over the Keller Bridge, and link up with the Chaparrals. They’ll give you air cover as you fall back. Priority targets are the T-80Us, and T-62s; hit them as they cross the bridge. You will provide cover fire for Anvil 1 as they fall back. Don’t let those commie bastards take any more American soil! Zeus out.” >“Driver! Reverse to the bridge! Gunner, fire at will, prioritize nearest first!” I ordered. The Abrams lurched back, as 125mm and 115mm AP rounds ricocheted off and slammed against the thick armor. On our left, Hammer 1-3, began to cook off, bursting into flames when hit by two AT-6 Spiral missiles, from an Mi-24. >“Lt. James is dead! Driver, get our ass in gear! Get us across that bridge, NOW!” I yelled. >“Yes sir! Moving now!” The Abrams’ turbine engine whined in response from from being pushed to the redline. M2 Bradleys launched TOWs across the river, and dumped 25mm AP downrange. Friendly 155mm artillery batteries rained high explosive behind us, along with several A-10 strafing runs, attempting to slow the soviet charge. Through the commander’s periscope, I recognized the outlines of Mi-28s and Mi-24s rising above the setting sun as we drove over the bridge. Tracers flew, missiles streaked back and forth, smokescreens deployed on both sides of the river. Our ammunition rack only had 4 rounds left. We’ve been firing nonstop, as Anvil 1 was annihilated on the bridge. Ivan paid for those Americans though. Our Chaparrals shot down 3 of their Mi-28s, and another 4 of their Mi-24s. A makeshift supply vehicle rolled up to our position, and started handing out 120mm rounds, TOW missiles, 150mm Shillelagh missiles, and 25mm AP and HE belts. As CPL. Morgan, our loader, was returning with more 120mm rounds, a Soviet LGB dropped by a MiG-23 obliterated the Bradley next to us, and CPL. Morgan evaporated along with the Bradley. With a only a half load of 120mm ammunition, the radio crackled up again. >“All units, this is Zeus Actual. Retreat to Gridref 701839! I repeat, retreat to Gridref 701839! Olympia is lost! Those damn Reds got behind us! All units are to withdraw to RP Bravo! Zeus Out!” More explosions shook the Abrams, and Soviet 152mm HE rounds started to bombard our fortified position. Reversing out of our hull-down position, our armored section conducted a fighting retreat. Without a loader, our M1A1’s combat capability was significantly reduced; that didn’t matter much when we were retreating. En route to Oregon, the rally point, we were constantly harassed by SU-25 Frogfoots and MiG-23s, strafing our loosely organised convoy of armored vehicles. 2 Bradleys were mobility-killed, forcing us to abandon them, and a M60 was knocked out by a lucky rocket into it’s engine compartment. Whatever spaces were available were filled quickly by the crews of knocked out tanks. With nowhere else to fit inside, the remainder rode on top of the armor, exposed to enemy fire. Arriving in Portland, after 6 hours of constant aerial harassment, a National Guard base was a sight for sore eyes. We’d been up for more than 36 hours; everyone was too nervous to catch any sleep, and no one caught more than 15 minutes of rest. ------- F-15s conducted CAP around the Washington-Oregon border, warding off the harrassing SU-25s and MiGs. They didn’t dare cross into soviet occupied territory, as AAA, Tunguskas, MANPADs, along with multiple tracked SAMs had already locked down the airspace surrounding Northeastern Washington. Soviet MiG-29s and Su-27s ruled Washington airspace, and earlier SEAD attempts were shot down with no survivors. There were still pockets of fierce american resistance trapped in Washington, but with no way to resupply them, they were cut off and surrounded by Reds. Despite this fact, they fought on. Guerilla fighters inspired by movies such as Red Dawn, and veterans of Vietnam, wreaked havoc behind enemy lines. The Soviets were wary of such fighters after their experience with Afghanistan, and moved quickly to suppress the guerillas. Day after day behind enemy lines, a BRDM or BTR was ambushed with an IED or a GAZ was hit with an AT4, or the russian-controlled docks were hit with mortars. However, as much as they annoyed the russians, the attacks started to dwindle slowly. ------- Hopping out of the turret, I inspected the tank. Frontally, the tank was covered in dents, with a few that penetrated the surface, but not the rest of the armor layer. Some kind of pink foam was oozing out from in between the layers of Chobham armor. I knew the armor was laminated, but foam? I didn’t care enough to inspect it, as I was happy to be alive, and it seemed to hold up well against combloc AP. The left tread skirt was completely blown away, and bits of shrapnel still stuck out of the side armor. One piece of shrapnel was about a foot long, probably from the nearby Bradley. The half of the right tread skirt was gone, and what remained of the skirt had 25mm holes in them. The coax 240 barrel was struck head-on by an AP round, which now could be used as a floral decoration in an art collector’s museum. The pintle mounted M2 Browning was completely gone, and the loader’s 240 was missing it’s receiver. The gunner’s sights were cracked in 3 places, and I found what appeared to be a 14.5mm AP core embedded inside the reinforced plexiglass. The driver’s viewports were struck by 25mm rounds, forcing him to turn out while retreating to Oregon, while still being strafed by SU-25 Frogfoots. The tank was mission-killed, but you can bet your ass that I’d still fight inside it against Ivan. Hearing footsteps behind me, someone called out my rank and name. I turned around, and a full-bird Colonel greeted me. I snapped into a salute. >‘Sir! 1SGT Anon of Hammer 1-2. We are green and ready to fight. Just tell us where!’ >‘At ease, son. Where’s the rest of Hammer and Anvil?’ >‘KIA, sir. Me, PFC Johnson, and Sgt. Hyde are the last remains of Hammer 1. We’re still good to go.’ I knew deep down that if we were to go out again, we’d probably go down with our tank, but I’d be damned if I didn’t take Ivan down with me. >‘In this condition? You’re in no condition to fight Ivan, and I’m not about to throw away your lives,’ After a short pause, he spoke again. >‘In fact, I need a commander. Sergeant, pack up your things. You’re headed for California. I’ll inform you en route. You’re in for surprise.’ >‘Sir, what about my crew? I can’t just leave them,’ I argued. >‘They’ll be transferred to Bannon’s platoon. I’m sure Bannon will take any reinforcements he can get ahold of.’ I was conflicted with leaving my crew behind, but orders are orders. Whoever this Bannon was, he probably needed them more than me. But why was I going to California? Surely I didn’t need R&R? >‘Yes sir. I’m ready to go.’ I replied. >‘Good man. Wheels up in 10. Get moving.’ >‘Sir.’ --- Aboard the C-130, I learned I was heading to California to field test a new experimental M1A1 Abrams, labelled ‘XM1A1E7’. Supposedly, this thing could turn the tide and halt Ivan. I was skeptical, but field testing a new experimental tank sounded cool as fuck. Next part: https://pastebin.com/C4K5BTgu