Contact ...

Source

The tank commander swore he saw movement to his front. He looked away from the spot he'd been staring at, sometimes his peripheral vision would pick things up faster, especially at night.

He was looking across a field towards another forest, with patchy fog in the area it was tough to see anything at a distance. But there were gaps ...

There! Something big, no, two or three "somethings."

"Driver, fire the engine up." He barked over the intercom, the crew would recognize his "don't ask" voice.

As the engine rumbled to life, he switched to the frequency which would connect him with the infantry next door.

"Blue Three, Firebird One, you guy's up?"

The reply was staticky but understandable, "We're here, what's going on to our front?"

"Don't know, there shouldn't be any of our guys forward of our position. Get your boys up and ready."

"Copy."

Source

"One, Three, infantry in the trees just up that next rise."

"I see them."

The commander of the lead tank had been glassing the treeline ahead and as the light increased he had seen men running towards what had to be dug in positions overlooking the field they had to cross.

"Gunner, I see a tank and some infantry, just like the recce team reported. No halftrack, no second tank, you seeing this?"

The gunner's optics were very good, better than the commander's field glasses and in a steady mount. He had seen the infantry shifting into position. There!

"Second tank, farther back in the woods. Want me to take him?"

"On my signal. Wait for it ..."

Source

The commander winced as he looked through his forward facing vision block, the sun was coming up in the east. Though the sky was overcast locally, to the east it was clearing and the bright sunlight in his eyes was painful. In minutes the sun would be obscured by low scudding cloud, for the moment it blocked his view to the east, where the enemy was.

To his left he heard the scream of an incoming shell, blinking he turned to that direction. An instant later that shell exploded to the rear.

"Firebird Two, report!"

"Firebird Two here, we're up, damn near shit my pants. That was HE, my gunner has the shooter in his sights."

"Take him out!"

Source

"Three! What the hell are you shooting at?"

There was no response. "Radio, get me the artillery frequency. Things are going to hell too fast."

"You're connected."

As the commander began to call in a fire mission, it struck him that his gunner had not fired.

"Gunner, hit that tank!"

"Which one?"

The commander overrode the gunner's controls at that point. Pressing his face into his own sight, he saw the tank back in the trees, but not the one he'd seen earlier to the front. Damn it. He got the gun on target and fired.

"Loader! AP!"

"Loading!"

"Woodpile, fire mission!" The commander needed to get artillery down on these guys across the field.

"Jesus!" One of his crew shouted over the intercom.

The gunner's shot was on target, he saw sparks as his shot hit the enemy tank then apparently ricocheted off into the blue. He was starting to panic, then he heard his loader scream, "UP!"

He hit his trigger after making a few minor adjustments to his aim point. This time his shot "stuck." Sparks, then a glowing hole in the enemy's lower hull.

"Three's hit!" The radioman called out, he had had his periscope turned to the right for some reason. When he'd noticed he reached up, looked through it and saw tank Three hit twice in succession. The first round had glanced off, the second had struck home. He could see flames issuing from the turret ring. His best friend was the gunner in Three.

The platoon commander watched in horror as the turret hatches on Three flew open. One man, wreathed in smoke, nearly leapt from the hatch then fell out of view on the other side of the vehicle.

A second man climbed out slowly, he was beating his trousers, which were on fire. The commander lost sight of him when the last man out pushed that man off the tank. This third man seemed to pause and look around, flames were starting to issue from the hatch he was in.

The man, probably the gunner, placed both hands on top of the turret and looked to be trying to heave himself out of the turret.

The commander lost sight of him when Three exploded.

He stood there in shock, then he heard, "Shot out!"

It puzzled him for a moment, then he remembered, the artillery!

"Skipper is dead." Came as a screech over the infantry frequency.

"What, who is this?"

"Blue Three, sorry boss! Firebird Two is dead. Our platoon sergeant is dead. We need to get the f**k out of here!"

The commander of Firebird One looked back, indeed, there was the hulk of Firebird Two, enveloped in flames, the turret missing. He hesitated. Looking through his vision blocks he could see the infantry running for their vehicle, which they'd parked about thirty meters behind Firebird Two.

He yelled into the radio, "Blue Three, get back to your positions!"

As he said that, artillery began to impact where the infantry had been.

He announced, to no one in particular, "We're f**ked, damn it. Driver, reverse, get us the hell out of here!"

Source

"They're pulling back!"

Once again his gunner was on top of things. The commander's mind felt like it was running in slow motion. He shook his head.

"Woodpile, Woodpile, mission complete. Enemy is falling back."

"Copy."

Switching frequencies he called regiment. "Roadblock is clear, we're going to advance to the position and hold."

Though the response faded in and out, the terrain played havoc with their communications, the commander heard the acknowledgement. He thought he heard that the main attack would go in elsewhere, he was to hold and await orders.

"Chief, looks like one guy survived from Three. He looks pretty messed up."

Standing in his hatch, he looked down to the ground. A wounded man staggered up, it was Three's loader, the legs of his tanker's coveralls were still smoldering.

"Radioman, loader, dismount and help this man."

Then he got on the platoon frequency, "Two, move up to the enemy position, I'll cover."

"Copy."

The commander shook his head, four dead on his side, who knew how many across the field. And for what?

Source

With his head out of the hatch, the driver felt better. Though the occasional rain squall was making that position rather uncomfortable, it was better than being buttoned up while people were shooting at you.

They'd driven by the remains of Firebird Two, still burning, the turret off in the woods somewhere. He'd known those guys, not well, but well enough. Now they were dead, all five of them.

What was left of the infantry, they had two wounded and three dead out of their squad, followed in their halftrack.

"Where to, Skipper?"

"Checkpoint London, about three klicks farther on. The rest of the company is there."

The driver shook his head, maybe they had a spare hatch seal. Something cold touched his face, the rain was turning to snow.

"Wonderful," he muttered to himself.