Reequipping, Refueling, and Rest

(Source)

"Hey Corp, what's all this junk behind your position?" Private Ian Sullivan was digging around through the interior of the tank. This was his first look inside. Behind the 75 mm gun position there was a lot of loose kit underneath a tarp. Though he was new to the tank business, even he knew that seldom was space wasted inside one of these expensive fighting vehicles.

McTavish poked his head inside the hatch next to the 75, "Just spare odds and ends, I 'spose, I ain't had a chance tae really dig into her yet."

At that moment, their new lieutenant was walking by, he was busy trying to get his new platoon organized and moving. So far he had three crews and was expecting one more. He had heard McTavish and wondered what "odds and ends" he was talking about.

"Corporal."

"Sah!"

Lieutenant Wellesley leaned into the hatch, then turned to McTavish, "Get that rubbish out of there. You're blocking access to the loader's seat and your ammunition stowage."

"I get a loader?" McTavish asked, somewhat puzzled.

"What, d'ye think the Yanks would waste space inside a tank? You've never crewed one of these, have you?"

"Nae, Sir, first time."

Wellesley shook his head, "I've got a manual for the beast, I'll get you one. Where's your tank commander?"

As he said that O'Connell came around the rear of the vehicle, "Right here, Sir."

"Ah yes, once you get your lads sorted, and get that mess out of your tank, come over to the gate. We'll be moving first thing in the morning. I'm expecting another crew shortly."

"Sir!"

"Get cracking lads, the Huns are coming this way."

(Source)

The fuel trucks had come up shortly after the sun had set. Hoffmeister and his crew busied themselves getting their own Panzer refueled, then Hoffmeister had seen to the rest of the platoon, telling his own crew to prepare their rations.

As he walked over to Unteroffizier Baumann's Panzer, he could feel the temperature start to drop. It didn't take long for that to happen after the sun went down. For the moment he let the cooler air wash over him, it felt good after the heat of the day.

Baumann climbed down off of his vehicle and met Hoffmeister, "So Willi, are we moving on tomorrow?"

"No, we're waiting for the Italians, from what I understand. Apparently the Commando Supremo in Rome has had a change of heart about supporting us. Benghazi fell quickly and the English don't seem to have much between here and the Egyptian border."

Baumann shook his head, "We never even came close to seizing Tobruk last year, we need it, Benghazi is a terrible port."

"Ah, so you're a sailor now?" Hoffmeister scoffed.

"You may laugh, Willi. Before the war I was a merchant seaman for a Greek line. We sailed these waters. I know every port between Tripoli and Haifa."

"I didn't know that Ferdinand. Were you drafted?"

"In '38, just in time to roll into Austria. Well, our Panzer broke down, we went into Vienna by truck. Still rolling though."

"That it is."

Hoffmeister reached into his tunic for a cigar, offering one to Baumann as he searched for his matches.

"That stuff will kill you, Willi." Baumann waved off the offer of a cigar.

"Before the English get a chance?"

Baumann laughed, "Probably not."

Willi smiled as he lit his cigar, "Gute Nacht, Ferdinand."

Baumann nodded as he turned to rejoin his own crew, "Schlaf Gut, Willi. Bis Morgen.¹"

Bonus content, inside the M3 Grant

¹ Sleep well, Willi. Until morning. (Can also be translated, "Until tomorrow.")