A sharp whistle split the air, starting soft but growing louder. Around the hangar, heads snapped up and soldiers looked around, but I was the first to shout, "Incoming!"

Everyone threw themselves flat. I ducked behind a large crate and crouched, wrapping my arms around my head. They were huge, but thick enough to block shrapnel? Probably not.

The explosion shook the whole hangar, the doors rattling in their tracks. I lifted my head. The newcomers’ truck had exploded. What was left burnt merrily.

I leapt to my feet and shouted "Get in the hauler!” as I took off running for the ladder. As the men shook off their shock, they obeyed. Two men were still struggling with a large crate, but I yelled at them, "Drop it and go! Move! Move!"

I didn’t know how well armored the hauler was, but it looked tough. More importantly, if somebody had dialed the mortar in on our location, they wouldn't be alone. There'd be more mortars coming and guys with guns. We had to get moving. A moving target is harder to hit.

By now the ladder was swarming with men. Another group came running up behind me and I pointed them to the cargo lift. "Take the lift! Go! Go!"

I went up the ladder last and climbed inside. Alexander had said something about being the driver, so I headed forward, pushing through the crowd.

I had no idea how to work this bizarre alternate world Royal Polish mech carrier truck, but as a former Army MOS 21E — a Heavy Construction Equipment Operator — I had a lot of experience figuring out all kinds of shit. Diggers, excavators, dump trucks, you name it. Some of those things seemed like their controls had been set up for a pack of deranged monkeys. I had no doubt that I could figure out almost anything.

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"Make a hole!" I shouted and elbowed my way up the gangway. Ahead, a set of incredibly narrow metal stairs led upward. I squeezed through into the control room.

There was a bank of glass windows in front of me. Four chairs, more control panels and levers than I could count, gauges, dials, and what I was almost certain was a radio set. Alex was already there, sitting in a chair. He glanced back as I clambered into the room. "Oh good. Get in the driver's seat.” He gestured to the one next to him. It was slightly raised and had at least eight levers and dozens of dials and gauges in front of it.

I slid forward, trying not to bang my hip or shoulder into consoles and panels. Everything was made of metal, except for the chairs which had a pad on them. I dropped into the chair. It wasn't too uncomfortable considering how utilitarian it looked, or maybe golem butts are better padded than the ordinary human’s. In front of me was an array of controls that would have done an old WWII bomber pilot proud. I didn’t have a clue what any of them did.

And now .... the Rest of the Story!

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Finish reading Sergeant Golem: Royal Mech Hussar on Amazon!

When his brother-in-law crushes him under heavy construction equipment, Sam assumes he's dead. Instead he wakes up in an alternate world where Polish mechs fight against magically empowered Russian robots in some alternate version of World War One. Giant robots with cute girl warriors who desperately need his help? Sam's pretty sure he's seen this anime before.

Unfortunately, he's been brought here in the body of a golem, expected to work mindlessly to help cover the escape of a decimated Hussar regiment. Sam must quickly establish himself not as just any golem, but as Sergeant Golem. His mechanical skills and Army experience are just what the fugitives need to survive. As he helps form stragglers and survivors into a fighting unit, Sam starts to feel like he's found where he truly belongs.

Going up against enemy Russian mechs and mysterious magic-users would have been plenty, but then Baba Yaga sticks her withered nose into the mix. What's a simple golem to do?

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