Despite having American origins, the XM1A1E7 had a Japanese nickname. On paper, the tank was exceptional. The eggheads had outdone themselves. Incorporating a 120mm smoothbore L/44 M256A1 autoloading cannon in a unmanned turret, they had welded ERA panels all over and put cameras on the roof mounted MG’s, allowing remote operation. They put something called an ‘Active Protection System’ on it, something I’d never even heard of. Supposedly, it shot down missiles that came within range of the tank with a wall of bullets. I thought I’d get assigned new crew along with the tank, but apparently DARPA had put in some kind of Artificial Intelligence inside, meaning I was the supervisor needed. I wasn’t exactly too keen on working with a robot, especially if it turned on me or even worse, defected to Ivan. They assured me that I had overrides, and that I’d be fine. In field testing, there were a few issues with the powerplant in the short time I had to get acquainted with the vehicle, but they were solved by allowing the engine to cool off after intense maneuvers. Overall, the tank was superb, in a league of its own. Soon after learning that Oregon was being overrun, High Command ordered us to deploy to the frontline once more, and assist in an upcoming skirmish. We loaded up inside a C-141 Starlifter, and began our long flight to the frontlines. ---Inside the Starlifter--- I reclined in my seat, anxiously awaiting for the alarm that would signal the airdrop. >‘Paladin, huh? Not a bad callsign.’ I thought to myself. ‘If only I wasn’t so bored in here, alone. I wonder if DARPA programmed this thing to talk.’ I switched the AI on. I was greeted with a faint blue light, which flickered and died. >‘Huh? That didn’t happen before? What’s going on?’ I thought aloud. Red light flooded into the tank through the viewports as the jump light came on. I felt the tank lurch back, sliding down the ramp, before jerking violently to the rear. I experienced weightlessness as the tank was in freefall, and was pushed into my seat as the parachutes opened. As I landed, the AI housing started fritzing out, casting sparks all over the interior of the Abrams. >‘Shit! Shit shit shit shit shit!’ I yelled in frustration I ‘gently’ smacked the AI housing, hoping it’d fix itself. Otherwise, I’d be stuck in a steel coffin. The hatches wouldn’t unlock without the AI. Of course, my physical encouragement did nothing. >“Goddamn worthless piece of shit! Fuck! How am I supposed to get to the rally point now?” >“Commander, is everything alright?” said a quiet, timid voice from behind me. Spinning around in my chair, my eyes fell upon a beautiful female through a hatch that lead to the turret that wasn’t there before. She was dressed in M81 BDU, with a tanker helmet that obscured most of her blonde hair. Her bright blue eyes gazed at me in concern. ‘What the fuck’ was the first expression that came into my head. Luckily, I was composed enough to ask, >‘Who are you? What are you doing here? And how are you inside the turret?’ >‘O-oh! I’m Stephanie, Sir! I’m the loader!’ She said as she snapped a salute. >‘What? How even? You know what, I don’t even care anymore. I-’ I was cut short by a laugh coming from the turret, but not from Stephanie. Another female tanker poked her head from out of the hatch, obscuring Stephanie in the process. With a smug grin on her face, she introduced herself as Sara. >‘Yo! I’m Sara! I’m your gunner! Anything you want destroyed, just tell me!’ She smugly smiled at me, her bright green eyes glowing with egotistical pride. Before I had a chance to react, she disappeared from view, back into the turret. A third voice spoke from inside the turret. >‘Commander. I am your driver. Taylor. Pleased to meet you. Where is our destination?’ She said with nonexistent emotion. Not even as much as a glance at her either. Albeit confused, I simply accepted the situation for what it was. These were my new crew members, and I’d treat them as my own crew. >‘Driver, take us to Rally Point Foxtrot. Full speed.’ I ordered. What was I getting into? -------- We rolled to the rally point in silence. Upon arrival, I turned out in the driver’s hatch. The XM1A1E7 caught many stares from the infantry, and looks of jealousy from the M60 and Bradley crews. >‘This is Paladin 1, standing by at rally point Foxtrot. Awaiting Orders.’ I radioed in. >‘Affirmative Paladin 1, good to see you arrived in one piece. Ivan’s got a Motorized AT Platoon ahead. You’re being tasked to assist Warhorse 2 in punching a hole in their line. Hellfire squadron has reported that there’s an Mechanized Company inbound to reinforce. Ensure they get an American welcoming party. Odin out.’ >‘Driver, form up on Warhorse 2. Leftmost side.’ I ordered. The quiet hum of the engine starting up again was the only response I got. >‘All units, this is Odin Actual. Bombardment has ceased. All units are to advance. I don’t need to tell you what’s at stake here. Make Uncle Sam proud. Odin out.’ With that, the quiet snowfall was interrupted by dozens of engines revving at once. >‘Driver. Forward, stay in line formation with the rest of Warhorse 2,’ I ordered. >‘Get that APS ready! Loader! Load HE! Gunner, prepare to fire!’ As a Bradley from Hoplite 1 crested over the hill in front of us, it was greeted by no less than 3 ATGMs; which blew the turret off - landing 20 feet away. Thankfully, the infantry had already dismounted, and had crawled up the hill. Our turn to crest, we motor’d up, cresting the hill as friendly infantry lit up the town with their M60s, red tracers flying through the purple twilight. The wreck of the burning bradley illuminated the nearby trees as green tracer streaks from PKMs returned fire. >‘Gunner! Light that diner up with coax! Bearing 357! 400 meters!’ I ordered quickly. >‘On it Sir!’ Sara yelled with enthusiasm. The rapid bursts of 7.62 from the 240, and the heavier ‘CHUG CHUG CHUG’ from the Browning reverberated inside the tank. I watched in amazing clarity through the commander’s periscope as our tracers flew into the diner, chewing through the brick and mortar. An especially brave (or stupid) russian brought up a RPG with a PG-7VR warhead, and was promptly ventilated by a dozen rounds of 7.62x51mm. >‘Gunner! Bring the Browning down 6 inches! Same target!’ My order was punctuated with a new burst from the Browning, a new line of tracers raking the brick diner with .50 BMG; a friendly M60A3 put a WP round into the diner, setting it aflame, and forcing the offending russians out, who were quickly cut down by rifle fire from American infantry. Spotting a small flash from the peripheral of my view, a ATGM streaked towards us from a still intact hotel. >‘READY APS!’ The Metal Storm APS had already identified the 9M133 missile and locked onto it. Once within 50 meters, it fired a single burst at once, a wall of 5.56, which detonated the ATGM mid-flight. >‘Gunner! Blow a damn hole in that hotel with HE! Third window from the left, Fifth story! Bearing 003! 800 meters!’ I ordered quickly. >‘On the way!’ Sara yelled as a boom resonated, and sent a 120mm HE round towards the hotel. >‘Miss! Adjust 15 meters right, 5 meters down!’ I order. Within seconds, Stephanie’s voice signaled another round was ready. >‘Loaded!’ >‘Fire!’ I order. >‘On the way!’ The 120mm round entered through the window, shattering it, impacting the drywall in the room which detonated the HE shell. Through the periscope, I witnessed the detonation. The 120mm HE tore the room inside out, leaving a gaping hole in the hotel, initiating multiple secondary explosions, probably extra missiles for the launcher. Enemy BTR-80s rolled forward, out of the town, attempting to suppress the infantry in the treeline, but were quickly met by TOW missiles fired from Bradleys. After a few minutes, the intensity of fire died down; many soviet soldiers retreating deeper into the city to escape the WP rounds fired by the M60A3’s and 25mm HE rounds from Bradleys. Warhorse 1 through 3 pushed into the town, as Hoplite 1 through 5 loaded infantry and held overwatch. We rolled into town, at the rear of the formation. Everyone was nervous. The road was narrow and claustrophobic for a tank crew. Urban tank warfare usually didn’t end well for the tanks. >‘Eyes up! Ivan’s in this town somewhere! We gotta hold this place til Hoplite gets here and they clear these houses. Watch those roofs.’ Warhorse 2-1 radioed over the net. >‘Gunner, get on the CROWS. I want that Mk.19 ready to unload on anything. Double check the APS is working correctly. I don’t want an RPG up my ass today.’ I order nervously. Not a minute later, a rooftop RPG struck the thin roof armor of the lead M60A3, Warhorse 2-1; which burst into flames immediately. >‘Gunner! Open up on the bastard!’ I yelled. >‘Gladly!’ Sara shouted back. The Mk.19 chugged for what seemed like a few seconds, sending a burst of 4 grenades arcing to the top of the building, throwing bits and pieces of flesh, metal and gravel into the air. Over the radio, panicked tank commanders yelled, >‘AMBUSH! OPEN UP ON ANYTHING THAT MOVES!’ >‘CONTACT LEFT! CONTACT LEFT!’ >‘THERE! 12 O’CLOCK! HIT HIM!’ >‘RPG! SECOND STORY!’ Disorganised gunfire ensued, .50 BMG ripped into stores left and right, and the library had its door kicked in with a WP round. 105mm HE tore walls off buildings, and the occasional RPG flew into the armored column. >‘Gunner! Weapons free! Driver, Reverse! Get us off this road!’ I ordered. >‘On the way!’ Sara yelled, estatic. >‘Loaded!’ Stephanie shouted. The engine roared to life, reversing quickly. --------- Next part: https://pastebin.com/YV6fpE3U