Join the new world

Hello dear readers. This is the next installment of the Tank Nation Chronicles. If you enjoy it let me know in the comments below and please shout it to spread the story.

Much love folks.

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I have no doubt that I would have plunged that blade into DeepFryd’s heart if a hand hadn’t suddenly grabbed a hold of me.

“Just like the old times hey Sarge?”

“Huh?” When I opened my eyes Axeell and DeepFry were staring at me with genuine concern on my face, as if they thought I was mad. And maybe I was. Hell, there’s no maybe about it. I had been a brief second away from stabbing to death my commanding officer and being carted off for a summary execution. “Oh right ye. Old times.”

My hands were shaking as I tried to reload my rifle. I almost dropped the magazine twice. Luckily no one was paying me anymore attention. The Captain was moving along the thin line of men, splitting them up into the three assault squads.

S**t.

“Right men, when the whistle blows I want you to give them hell, ok? Show them that Britain and the Tank Nation cannot be messed with. Do you hear me?” The collective response pierced through my skull as my shaking legs carried me to the front of my squad. Most of my men looked scared to hell and back, but a small few were grinning as manically as the Captain had been. I guess some men just excel when their death is right around the corner. No sense of self-preservation.

“Ready yourselves.” I finally managed to click in the magazine, the noise was oddly settling and brought a small island of calm into my swirling sea of f***ing terror. Here goes nothing.

A few of the more ‘enthusiastic’ soldiers had already clambered over the top of the ridge, screaming at the top of their lungs and already loosing off a few bullets on the run. Eager for glory? Or eager for death?

Then the whistle rang out, louder than the artillery fire, louder than the beating of my heart hammering away in my ears. Crap.

I rushed onwards with the rest of my men. I stayed at the front, as was my job. I may not have wanted to waste my life here on some god forsaken hill in the middle of Wales. But I wouldn’t use my men as a meat shield just to save my own life. At least not yet.

I stuck to the treeline, trying to keep out of sight from the Irish emplacement as much as possible. Their machine gun fire had picked up a notch at the sound of the whistle and the subsequent roar from a hundred different throats.

The bullets whipped through the leaves above me but I kept my head down and rushed deeper into the darkness. I could hear my men following me, no doubt confused that we weren’t heading directly up towards the enemy.

“Sir?” I ignored the shouted questions. I wasn’t running away. I may not have wanted to die but I followed orders. I’d just find the best way to fulfil those orders, hopefully in a way that doesn’t end up with me lying in a giant pool of my own blood.

It didn’t take long for us to reach the first machine gun emplacement.

“The hell are we doing Sarge?” It was Corporal Marton, a new soldier in my squad but a promising soldier, if a little too by the book for my liking.

“Shut up Marton. Right boys and girls the first defence is just a few meters to our left if I’m not mistaken. We go in hard and we go in fast. Kill everything you see and move on. Anyone got a flashbang? We need this to be quick and easy.”

“Here Sarge.” I grabbed the offered weapon, pulled the pin, inched forward and threw it between two branches towards the origin of the noise.