>‘All units, this is Odin Actual. Ivan’s Mechanized Division is arriving in 5 mikes. All armored assets are to head to the north and establish fortified positions. Hit them in the open ground. I don’t want to hear a single BMP getting through to the town. Odin out.’ >‘Sir, the town isn’t clear yet! We still need to finish securing the town!’ Warhorse 1 radioed. >‘Negative! If you don’t take out those BMPs, they’ll drop more infantry inside the town! Hoplite will clear the town. That’s final!’ >‘Yes Sir. Moving now.’ the M60A3 commander replied defeatedly. >‘Driver! Get us to that hill! Bearing 007! 100 meters! I want us hull down behind that hill! Full speed!’ I ordered. >‘Moving now, Sir.’ A monotone voice responded. --------- Our tanks lie in wait, as gunfire rang out from behind us in the town. House-to-house, room-to-room, fierce close quarter combat ensued. Bradleys fired into houses, as RPGs were fired at them from different buildings. A squad of infantry took cover behind a porch, as a GP-25 went off nearby. The automatic rifleman laid a suppressing stream of 7.62mm rounds from his M60, as another soldier armed a M72 LAW, took aim, and blew out the wall of the house containing russian soldiers wide open. 40mm grenades followed shortly after, leaving bits of russian splattered all over the interior of the house. Over the radio, panicked squad leaders constantly requested fire support, while calm Bradley commanders issued fire orders. >‘Contact in the yellow house! Requesting fire support! Jefferson, get a 40 in that window! Max! Get down! Shit!’ >‘Affirmative! Hoplite 1-4 is engaging your target.’ ---- Back to the periscope, I scanned with the thermal optics. Through the heavy woodland, I picked up no less than a dozen thermal contacts, maybe more. Alerting the other tanks, I ordered weapons free on all hostile targets. >‘Warhorse, this is Paladin! I got 10 plus enemy BMPs and BTR-80As north-northeast of my position, bearing 037! They’re about 500 meters out! We’re engaging now!’ I radioed. I heard Sara shout ‘On the way!’ before a 120mm HE round slammed into a BMP-2, lifting the front of the vehicle nearly vertical, before gravity slammed it back down, wrecking it. A large plume of snow was kicked up from the blast, obscuring visuals, but not our thermal optics. Immediately, inaccurate HE 30mm flew wildy in our general direction, detonating nearby, felling trees, and some even reaching the town behind us. The M60A3s unleashed a volley of 105mm AP rounds, knocking out 3 different vehicles. The enemy BMPs had finished dismounting their infantry, and were zeroing in on our positions. The BMPs ripple-fired their ATGMs in an attempt to overload our APS. The Metal Storm APS, with difficulty, handled the 3 AT-5 Spandrel missiles aimed at us, but couldn’t intercept another aimed at a nearby Patton. A PG-7V HEAT warhead impacted the leftmost armor skirt of the XM1A1E7 while the APS was reloading. The impact jarred the tank, causing me to panic slightly. Desperately scanning for the source of the launch, I spot a single thermal contact in the town’s church tower, well beyond 500 meters behind us. >‘Gunner! Get the M2 CROWS to target that RPG gunner! And get that Mk. 19 firing on those dismounted infantry in the open! Prioritize the BMPs, try to disable their ATGMs with the coax!’ I ordered. >‘Already on it, Sir!’ Laughing uncontrollably. >‘On the Way!’ >‘Huh?’ >‘Misfire! I-I’m clearing it now!’ Stephanie shouted in a panic. >‘I-It’s stuck! I can’t get it out!’ >‘Main gun is jammed!’ A red warning light flashed onto the commander’s console. In big red letters, it showed a model of the tank, indicating the gun was inoperable. >Autoloader jammed >120mm Offline Whilst attempting to clear the console of the warning, another popped up. >M2 CROWS disabled >M2 CROWS offline >‘What’s the status of the CROWS?’ I shouted into the turret. >‘The M2 CROWS has been hit with a 3UOR6 HE-T 30mm round fired by a Soviet BMP-2, Commander. The Mark 19 Automatic Grenade Launcher CROWS is still in operating condition.’ Taylor’s nonchalant voice replied. >‘Driver! Pull us back 50 meters, and put us out of view of those BMPs! I’m coming up there to unjam the 120!’ I ordered, as I stood from my chair and clambered into the turret. Surprisingly roomy for a turret, I snuck a glance at Taylor, whom I had yet to see. Also in M81 Woodland, and a tanker’s helmet, she was unusually tall in her reclined driver’s seat. She glanced at me, and nodded, simply acknowledging my presence in this supposedly empty turret, whilst continuing reversing back into defilade. Sara fumbled with some joysticks and a triple computer monitor, one of which was static. I could make out some words on the screen. The leftmost screen read [M2 CROWS .50 BMG], while the center read [M256A1 120mm - M240H 7.62mm] and the right read [MK.19 CROWS 40mm]. The center screen had red text scrolling across it, telling us the gun was not ready to fire. Taking another look around, I spotted Stephanie; she was struggling with the stuck round. She was unable to extract the round due to her hands not gaining enough purchase on the case. Weakly grunting with effort, she attempted to pull the casing out, to no avail. >‘Step aside. I’ll extract this one,’ I ordered. She blushes with embarrassment, and relinquished her grasp on the casing. I pulled my knife from my waistband, and pried the case out from the breech. >‘Here.’ I handed the spent casing to Stephanie. >‘T-thanks. I-I appreciate the assistance Commander. I’ll continue loading now.’ She said timidly, blushing hard. As I was leaving exiting the turret, a BMP crested the ridge in front of us, on the flank of Warhorse. Those 30mm AP rounds would shred the M60A3s’ thin side armor. >‘Gunner! Priority Target! BMP-2, 50 meters! Hit him now!’ I shouted with urgency. I felt the turret rotate and snap to the BMP, as Sara didn’t even say ‘On the way!’ before the BMP was obliterated by a HE shell, blowing half the the IFV apart, and throwing the track. >‘Driver! Advance! Let’s go punch a hole in their formation!’ The tank revved in preparation. The turbine engine goes into overdrive as it pushes all 65 metric tons of tank up a 45 degree slope at 20 miles an hour. We crest- no, we get a little bit of air time as we go over the hill. >‘Driver! Ram that BTR! Full speed! Gunner! Weapons free! Open on on anything you can see! Prioritize closest first, then BMPs! Loader! Load HE! Rapid fire!’ I order. Without missing a beat, I start transmitting on the radio as Sara unleashes a 120mm M908 HE-OR-T round into the front of a BTR-80A. The front of the APC caves in, sending lethal fragments of shrapnel throughout the crew compartment, painting the insides red. >‘Warhorse, this is Paladin. We’re attempting to punch through enemy lines. Can you cover our flank? Over!’ >‘Roger that, Paladin! All tanks, cover his flanks! Ram them if you have to! We’re going to punch a hole in Ivan’s lines!’ 30mm rounds are flying wildly through the air, while soviet missiles streak all around. The Metal Storm APS is constantly firing, intercepting ATGMs left and right. Chaos ensued, BMPs being annihilated, M60A3s detracked by 30mm, Soviet crews bailing from their burning BTRs, and in the midst of it all, an experimental XM1A1E7 Abrams expending ammunition like it was going out of style. >‘AT Infantry Right! Gunner! Hit them with 40 mike mike!’ I order, just as Sara finishes emptying the 120mm’s revolving cylinder. >‘APS is reloading! We don’t- Ahhh!’ Stephanie screamed as an RPG hit the reactive armor panel. >‘W-We have 60 seconds until the APS is loaded again, C-Commander!’ She shakily informs me. >‘Commander. The engine is unresponsive. Allow time for it to cool.’ Taylor says, uncaring. >‘That’s fine, as long as we finish off those last BMPs, then we only need to worry about the infantry! Load HE! Manually!’ I command. >‘Yes Sir! Loading HE. Up!’ >‘On the way!’ The 120mm M910 SAPHE-OR-T round exits the barrel, traveling at speeds upward of 1000m/s. It reaches the BMP’s lower glacis in less than a second, punching through with ease. The timed delay fuse on the warhead waits until just after penetration to detonate, causing catastrophic internal damage and disfiguring the outside of the tank from the explosion inside. The BMP begins to cook off after having been dealt a fatal blow, the orange flames illuminating the dark, snowy field. HE 30mm rounds and spare AT-5 missiles begin to detonate inside the wreck, orange flames licking the wreck from every crevice inside the BMP, a bonfire under the night sky. Through the thermal optics, I could see the infantry retreating, having lost all of their armor pieces and no hope to retake and reinforce the town. On the radio, I heard the rest of Warhorse cheering and celebrating a much needed victory for American forces. >‘Warhorse, this is Paladin. War’s not over yet. I got infantry in the treeline. Put a few WP rounds in there for me will ya? Bearing 287, 70 meters.’ I radio. >‘Sure thing, Paladin! All tanks, get some WP in these woods, flush those commies out! I want them dead! Squirt the treeline with .50’s if you see any of ‘em!’ Warhorse responds. -------- Next part: https://pastebin.com/hMhbn2KH