September 15th, 1983

Eastern Delos

Rizo Defense Line

88th Armored Battalion

Bravo Company

“Another Day Another Ration”

“So…” Grinston sighed to break the silence. Connor groaned at the man’s second attempt at conversation and adjusted his helmet lower on his face to block the sun. The rumble of armored vehicles and artillery droned in over the grassy countryside.

“So what?” he grumbled.

Grinston nudged his shoulder “So how’d that meeting with the Major go yesterday?”

“I go to the one place where there aren’t eighty bajillion things going on and you follow me to question me,” Connor shuffled his back against the shaded oak tree which he had decided to nap under, or had tried to. The occasional passing APC or truck on the nearby road didn't add to the distraction. A cool fall breeze washed through the surrounding fields that the two tankers resided in, the bustling base was left far ahead over a hill through the sounds of distant tank engines and artillery fire broke the natural calm. The blue sky above was nearly devoid of clouds and enemy aircraft, both a good boon by anyone’s standards.

“Hey, not my fault that I have to hide from Wallace who is hell-bent on rebuilding our tank from the tracks up, or that I haven’t seen Wade in the past day- geez I hope she hasn’t killed her sister.”

Connor nearly had a heart attack and jumped from his drowsy haze, “Wait, Wade has a sister?”

Grinston smiled, scratching the stubble on his face, “Yep, and she’s a whole ass 1st Lieutenant.”

“Is she hot?” Connor didn’t miss a beat.

Grinston chuckled loudly and patted Connor on the shoulder, ‘Not a good sign’ the man thought; removing his helmet from his face and placing it upon his lap. The cool wind bit at his eyes as it drifted through the fields.

“Imagine Wade, but with a higher education and blonde.”

‘Yep, fuck that.’ Connor couldn’t help but laugh at the thought.

A short silence hung in the air between the two men broke out into laughter together.

“So, meet any of the guys around here?” Grinston wiped a tear from his eye and gestured towards the base; its small sea of tents could be seen in the distance along with the myriad of vehicles that were milling about.

Connor thought for a moment, the only people he had talked to since his arrival were Wallace, the Major, and the gaggle of officers asking him probing questions during the briefing “Nope, not really. How 'bout you?”

“I hung out with the Cav guys the whole afternoon yesterday, they seem like cool people.”

“Oh god, you didn’t get stabbed did you?” Connor chuckled, fishing a pack of cigarettes from his cargo pocket.

Grinston’s eyes widened as he shrugged, “Whada mean?”

“My only experience with Cav Scouts is that they are elitists.”

“Well- Well fuck that explains a lot.”

Connor snickered, lighting a cigarette in cupped hands to shield it from the wind.

“So, how’re you enjoying the promotion?” Grinston asked, grabbing up a clutch of grass in his gloved hand; then letting them fall and blow away in the wind.

Connor had nearly forgotten about his hasty field promotion yesterday, a trio of stacked chevrons adorned his flak jacket’s collars-- the ranks of a sergeant.

“Haven’t noticed too much had changed, I think my pay is most likely fucked up,” he shrugged, taking another rip of his cigarette.

Grinston’s eyes lit up, “Fuckin hell am I getting paid?” The man put his hands on his head “Oh hell is Rachel getting the money?!”

“Rachel is your wife right?” Connor smirked and took another drag.

“No, she's some back alley hooker I have a tab with. Yes, of course she's my wife!” Grinston stammered, Connor couldn't help but smirk at the man’s external crisis.

“She’s probably fine, she would’ve sent you a letter if- fuck when was the last time we had mail?” the thought hit Connor abruptly.

Grinston started to visibly break down from worry, Connor rose from his seat with a loud grunt.

“Come on, let’s go meet your Cav buddies before you have some mental breakdown,” he patted his companion on the shoulder reassuringly.

“Gah, ok.” Grinston sighed, the thought of his family still in the back of his mind.

***

“Aw fuck, we have company!” Connor heard a woman’s voice bark as the pair approached. A feeling of dread grew as he neared the trio of Bradleys that were nestled under a grove of trees. Their positions provide not only cover from the sun, but also shielding from aerial reconnaissance.

‘This may have been a mistake,’ Connor mentally grumbled. Scores of mechanized crewmen began to appear amongst the vehicles. Many scowled or crossed their arms.

Connor glanced at Grinston who didn’t seem all too bothered about the reception.

“I still have my Colt if this goes bad, I got seven of em at best-“ Connor whispered to his companion.

“That won’t be necessary.” Grinston assured in a whisper just before the two came to a stop a few yards from the group.

“Whadya want?” One of the women in the group spoke up, a glare of disapproval in her eyes and a wrench in hand. Oil stains dotted her face and clothes. Connor tensed up, a drop of sweat starting to make its way down his cheek as the animosity started to rise amongst the group.

“Ey, where's Sergeant Walker?” Grinstion smirked.

“Why-“ one of the tankers spoke up but paused at the racket of an ammo can falling to the floor in the back of one of the Bradleys.

“Ah shit,” a man spat. Connor craned his neck to see past the gaggle that stood between him and the vehicles. Soon enough a blonde man’s head popped out of the infantry compartment’s gaping hatch. His black aviator shades obscured his eyes.

“What's with all the ruckus?” he barked, his drawl immediately rearing itself. The thought of Brooke when she attempted to mask her accent came to mind.

“Visitors, sarge,” one of the crewmen responded; the sergeant soon enough stepped out.

“Well well, didn’t expect you to bring friends,” Walker smiled, placing his hands on his hips.

Grinston chuckled; glancing about the platoon of agitated mechanized crewmen, “I didn’t expect the warm welcome.”

“Well, you know how we are about line tankers- ouh who is this??”

The man’s focus fell upon Connor, the mirrored black shades that adorned his face made it impossible to ascertain what he was looking at. A wave of unease flowed over Connor as the towering man began to size him up.

“Uh- Sergeant Connor McNeil, 310th Armored,” he stiffened up.

“Oh, yeah, you’re with the guys who limped in yesterday?” Walker rubbed his chin in thought. A smile pursed his lips.

“Well- Welcome to the home of Corsair platoon, fastest tracks on this side of the continent,” the man waved his hand behind him to the gaggle of Bradleys parked among the trees. Connor's eyes widened as he counted roughly ten.

“Geez looks like you’ve never seen a Mechanized Cavalry…” Walker smirked at Connor’s expression. The tank commander straightened up “Heck, I've seen a couple when the 310th had 113s attached to us.”

Walker’s expression soured a little “Don’t lump us in with those tracked lunchboxes.”

‘Don’t piss him off…’ Connor mentally groaned while he met the man’s piercing gaze.

“Ok, so what kind of stuff have you guys been doing since you’ve been here?” He attempted to redirect the subject. The man leaned back and smiled, “Mostly short-range recon and shoring up the defenses. A waste if you ask me.”

Grinston crossed his arms, “You don't say.”

“Yep, Cav should be doing Cav shit, not none of this static defense hullabaloo,” Walker grumbled. Connor and Grinston stood quietly while the man reminisced.

“So yeah-“ Walker snapped out of his distant thought “Get any kills behind the line?”

Connor furrowed his brow, “Do you mean vehicles or…”

“Tanks,” Walker flashed a grin; placing his hands on his sides. Connor took a moment to inventory ‘Was it three or five…’

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

He held up a hand in front of him and started counting digits. Grinston leaned in and tapped his thumb “Don't forget the one outside of Moro.”

“About five,” Connor smiled slightly.

Walker leaned back and chuckled “Welp seems like I can only claim two amongst my squad- Unless I count Spooky’s group.”

Grinston’s forehead scrunched up in confusion, “Spooky?”

Walker didn’t hesitate as he looked over his shoulder.

“Hey Spooks! Git over here!”

Connor watched as a lackadaisical infantryman clambered out of one of the Bradleys, her helmet looking a tad too large for her head.

“Waht?!” she bellowed.

Elsewhere…

“So how's dad?” Kinzler broke the silence between the two women as they watched yet another column of transport trucks laden with civilians drive past. The ground-shaking when they rolled by.

Wade rested her face in her palms; still silent.

Kinzler pursed her lips and sighed before speaking “Aw come on, you can't be mad at me still?” A cool breeze whipped through the field, the rustle of grass and the leaves overhead providing any semblance of sound amongst the silence.

Wade didn't react to the woman; her gaze still fixed a hundred meters ahead of her.

“Wait- you’re still pissed, aren't you?” the lieutenant gumbled at the notion. Wade for the first time glanced over; her piercing light green eyes seemed to burn a hole through her sister’s head.

“You chose mom,” she muttered.

Kinzler threw her arms up “Well what did you expect me to do?”

Wade’s expression went from empty to sour in the snap of a finger “Choose Dad- the man working himself half to death! For what!? For us and a woman who spent her days drinking wine and rubbing shoulders with some rich pricks?!”

“I- uh,” Kinzler felt the words stop dead in her throat.

“Speaking of that! How is dear old mom? Still fucking that banker that she used to go to work parties with?” Wade’s expression was that of pure fury.

“I had no choice!” her sister spat back.

“You left me- you left dad!”

“I- I didn't see a future for me- beating up other kids at school- stealing from convenience stores! For fucks sake, we were sixteen! What was there for me- for us!?” Kinzler screamed, jabbing Wade in her flak jacket with her gloved hand.

Wade seemed on the verge of throwing a fist as she spoke “We had eachother damn it… We had eachother…” her tone softened towards the end.

“I’m- I’m sorry,” tears began to well up at the corners of Kinzler’s eyes.

An uneasy silence gripped the air between the two. Kinzler pulled her knees close to her and started to quietly sob. Wade’s heart pounded in her chest…

“Dad’s- Dad’s fine, he got a job at a defense plant before I left,” Wade sighed, breaking the silence. Kinzler didn't even react as she continued to sob; unbenounced to her Wade had shuffled closer until they were side by side.

Wade slowly threw her arm around her sister’s shoulder and pulled her close, running her hand up and down her bicep “How's mom…”

Kinzler glanced up, tears streaming down her face still. “Still drunk on wine.”

Wade chuckled softly.

“That's mom.”

Kinzler chuckled; making an effort to wipe the tears off her face, “Remember Thomas?”

“What? That snot-nosed dumbass that kept trying to fight us after school? The same dumbass who kept bringing his friends and we still folded them every time?” Wade laughed at the memory of coming home with bruised fists.

“Yeah-” Kinzler managed a smile “He commissioned with me.”

Wade couldn't hold in a cackle “Gods I could have beaten his ass with one arm- heck I have.”

“I bet you could’ve…”

“Hey LT!” a voice called out in the distance; the pair leaning forward to catch a glimpse of the person. A gruff faced man jogged towards the two, a clipboard in hand.

Kinzler hefted herself to her feet, “Staff Sergeant Porter!” Wade soon followed and stood up. Porter slowed his pace as he approached.

“Whadya-” Kinzler paused and cleared her throat “What do you need?”

Wade elbowed the woman mockingly.

Porter held out the clipboard “It’s the supply roster for the stuff that’s moving out tonight to the FDL, need your signature ma’am.” Kinzler took the board and scanned it up and down.

“Enough ammo for full combat loads tomorrow… We have plenty of fuel to make it to the Faus Defense Line tomorrow…” she muttered while she went through the list which had everything from tank shells to spare parts.

“FDL?” Wade placed her hands on her hips “What the hell is the Faus Defense Line?”

Kinzler swiveled around from her thoughts as she nearly forgot about her sister’s presence for a moment.

“Oh uh- it's our objective to get to tomorrow after we withdraw.”

Wade furrowed her brow “Is it a place-”

“Need to know for now,” Kinzler cut her off before scribbling a signature at the bottom of the paperwork with a pen from her sleeve. Porter the whole time glanced back and forth between the women, somewhat aghast at their near identicalness.

“Are you two-” he blurted out.

“Yes.”

“Yeah,” The sisters answered at the same time.

Porter scratched his stubble “Oook then…”

Handing back the clipboard, the Sergeant made his retreat; leaving the two alone once again.

“Two questions,” Wade started with.

“Oh Gods what?” Kinzler rubbed her nose bridge.

“Who the fuck was that?”

Kinzler chuckled and crossed her arms, “He’s my Platoon Sergeant.”

“Also why do you talk all fancy-like?”

Kinzler’s face grew red, “Waht- I mean what?”

Wade broke out into a laughing fit “Like that!”

“Hey! Hey! Don't you laugh at me!”

“Is- is’it because you went to a nice college or sumthin?” Wade managed to say in between gasps as she rested her hands on her knees.

“I-I sound more formal- or professional! What's so wrong with that?” her sister stammered.

“Sure…”

Meanwhile in the maintenance bay…

“Water break!” Corporal Wallace barked, throwing water bottles to the beleaguered maintenance team which sat sweat-soaked in the poorly ventilated room. Brooke was drenched even with her tanker’s fatigues rolled down to her waist. A water bottle careened into her gut though she was too tired to care. The underground lighting threatened to bake her alive before she began to gulp down the plastic-tasting liquid. She plopped herself down against one of the road wheels. The smell of diesel and grease filled her nostrils. Sounds of power tools danced off the barren concrete walls within the subterranean facility.

“Fucck!” she gasped in between chugs. With a labored huff, she dumped the spent waterbottle over the side of the engine deck. The lukewarm liquid offered a small reprise under the baking heat of the overhead lights.

“I’m there with you,” one of the mechanics grumbled; laying splayed out over the M60’s engine deck. The tank itself was in relative pieces, its tracks removed with its couple-ton turret sitting on the floor next to it; still attached to the crane.

Wallace crouched down and chugged a water bottle before tossing it aside “We’re right on schedule folks, hang in there.” Brooke looked around the sea of loose parts that they had ripped from the vehicle. In the past day they had torn the tank almost completely apart nearly down to the last bolt; its engine sat in a myriad of pieces behind it.

“Davis- get the other crane, we gotta tear out the gun,” Wallace panted for air and pointed to one of the dolly winces that was usually used to remove humvee engines.

Brooke groaned, “Don't we just have to replace the barrel?”

Wallace grunted as he moved himself to his feet “Naw, we’re swapping out the whole thing for an M68A7 we happen to have in stock.”

Brooke’s eyes widened in confusion, “What the hell is an A7?”

The corporal flashed the first smile she had seen since they started this savant “It's the limited production model, the “Bell.”

“Never heard of it.”

Wallace straightened up, audibly groaning as he attempted to stretch his back “It’s a higher velocity M68, longer barrel, and breech that fires a couple of pounds heavier round. Instead of designing a newer round or completely different gun, the nuts at R&D just thought to make a bigger one oh five.”

Brooke’s heart stuttered at the mention of a heavier round “What else should I know about it?”

“It has significantly better ballistic performance than your standard M68, It can accept normal 105mm ammunition but due to the pressure differences in rounds, you may have to manually extract the casing after firing.”

Brooke sighed in exhaustion at the notion of even more work for her as a loader.

“What?” Wallace chuckled “Didnt you sign up for this shit?”

“Well- I’m not a tanker, I’ma mechanic,” the woman threw up her arms in frustration. The Corporal grinned “Well that does explain how you know your way around an M60 even more than your average tanker.”

“All I wanted to do was work on humvees- trucks like I did with my pa,” Brooke grumbled, getting to her feet. Wallace cocked his head to the side “Say about, where are you from?” Brooke’s expression reddened “West Davo.”

“Ah geez boys, we got ourselves a rancher,” one of the mechanics chuckled; a few others joined in. Wallace's expression flattened, “Now now, don't make a fit about where she hails from.” The mechanics on cue began to simmer down.

“Well, what’d you used to do in West Davo?” Wallace turned back to Brooke. She swallowed hard before continuing “I ran my parent’s general store, sometimes helping with the cattle.”

“That seems like a respectable job, heck I used to be a grocer before I joined the Army a few years ago.”

“Hmmm, you don't say…” Brooke found her curiosity peaking.

Wallace smiled, “Yeah I was in the guard before this shit popped off, the regular army scooped my ass up before my unit could even moblize.”

A pang of familiarity hit Brooke.

“Huh, so I guess you’re the same as me- well in reverse.”

“Ah so your regular army, and the nat guard stole yah?”

Brooke’s expression flattened a tad “Long story…”

Meanwhile…

“So here we were fuckin three Euk tanks bearing down on us- and then Spooky and her boys fuckin sprint around them with fuckin LAWs, some of the bastards are firing them on the move!” Walker patted the smaller woman standing next to him; each borderline slap almost seemed like it’d knock her on her face with each blow. The smaller framed soldier just stared vacantly on, the dark spots under her light blue eyes signaling her lack of sleep. Her short messy brown hair was all over the place from tossing and turning in her sleep.

Walker grinned and placed a hand on her shoulder “So yeah this is Spooky.” Connor found himself silently aghast at the woman’s stature; she couldn't seem much older than twenty with her build. Spooky’s pale complexion and large rounded glasses didn't seem all too befitting of a soldier, much less an infantryman.

“Sergeant Sharpe,” she said in nearly a whisper; extending her hand.

“Sergeant O’Neil and this is Private First Class Grinston,” Connor shook her hand, noting the weaker grip while he motioned to Grinston.

Walker smiled “Don’t let her sheepish temper fool yah, she's a fuckin devil at night.”

“Can I sleep now?” Sharpe grumbled, looking up at Walker.

The man sighed and scratched the back of his head; his dirty blonde hair rustled at the motion “Eh fine, get some shut-eye.”

Without a word, Sharpe disappeared back into her cave in the back of Walker’s Bradley.

“My bad, she's not much of a social person this hour- so you two are Nat guard huh? What’d you do before this shitfest?”

Connor felt a bit of unease as the spotlight shifted to him, and it wasn't because of the man in front of him that had a few inches in height. “Uh, I was a car mechanic before this shit,” he scratched the back of his head.

Grinston spoke up soon afterward “I was a lineman, paid pretty good.”

Walker smiled “Well you’re going to have a lot of work once this shit ends, the amount of power lines we’ve knocked over- whoo wee.”

“You got family O’Neil?” he turned back to Connor. Distant artillery fire echoed against his ears as he thought up a response.

“Had a Grandma a few months before this shit happened, otherwise no.” Walker’s expression softened “Damn shame.” Connor’s shoulders drooped at the thought of his family or lack thereof, the thought had not crossed his mind since he first closed the hatch of Nomad. His heart twisted at the notion.

“Got a girl waiting for you or somethin?” Walker continued, placing his hands on his hips.

Connor silently shook his head no.

A trio of large booms echoed in the distance almost in queue. Connor jumped a little in his boots at the sounds of the blasts.

The man grinned and took a deep breath of fresh air, “Aw no worries about that, our boys and theirs exchange shells all day.”

“Well enough about that though,” he continued, “Come on let's get some chow yeah? Rest up while you can, tomorrow is game day.”

“Yeah…” Connor muttered; somewhat uneasy about her statement…