#Tank Gunner Experience

[mychoombatheroomba]

Bloody Lessons

Between the Bones (Leon x GN! Reader) - Chapter 28

You were sure it wouldn't end with just the sparring match . . . and you were right.

(Cross-posted from Ao3)

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

CW: Once again, assholes in the army and harassment (not targeting the Reader)

Even if Fort Benning was a new space for you, even if it was a completely different base with different people, some things stayed the same - unanimous in your experience on Army bases. 

That was that information spread fast. 

Again you were reminded of that first meeting with Leon, how word had spread that you’d been called in to fight his squad, and how you’d trounced him. Now, though, months later, you couldn’t help but smile as you heard whispers about Leon’s victory. “You the kid that knocked Taylor’s ass in the dirt?” some cadets would ask Leon, and you could only watch with pride as he nodded and received a respectful nod in response. “Good-'' was usually the response. “Asshole needs to learn to shut his mouth.” Not everyone was so pleased with the victory, though. The man Leon defeated - Taylor - was covered in bruises the next day, glowering at Leon and the rest of you from across the mess hall tables. He had a fair few sympathizers, it seemed, because the men sitting around him matched his expression, looking at your squad like they were hoping you’d all burst into flames. 

Fortunately, Leon had backup of his own. 

When the rest of your squad heard about it, they were all too eager to congratulate him. Alejandro had slapped him on the back at lunch when he confirmed it was true. “Nice going, kid,” he’d praised. “‘Bout time we showed these boys what’s what.” 

And after Taylor’s comments the night before, you all decided that it wasn’t enough to humiliate the man in hand to hand combat. It became an unspoken goal amongst the visiting STRATCOM recruits to beat the Fort Benning boys at their own game. 

So, when you were all paired up in fours and assigned to a tank, each and every one of you took to it with a determination. There was no incentive to perform well like the desire to win, even if the game was one of your own making. Few more so than your own group. You and Leon had tried hard not to smile at each other when you were grouped together, along with Williams and Alenko. 

You were grateful for each of them being paired with you. After the incident with Taylor, after the comments he’d made, Williams was particularly motivated to out-perform him and everyone else. Alenko was the most knowledgeable on how the tanks worked, having wanted to work with them before being recruited into STRATCOM. He often prattled off facts about the machines, about their history, how they ran. Things that proved both useful and amusing. And Leon . . . well, it went without saying why you were happy to be paired with Leon. The two of you worked well together; months of getting close resulted in you knowing how to communicate well with each other. 

What surprised you was that the same extended - to a lesser degree - to Williams and Alenko. It was a bit difficult at first, with the four of you being crammed into an unfamiliar machine, taught to operate it in a crash course. Finding a rhythm was a daunting task, but you eventually started to figure out where you were best suited.

The four of you alternated positions for the first few days. Gunner, loader, driver and commander. Each of you learning the ins and outs, coming to appreciate the danger and power of the tank you operated. And as the days went on, as you all traded responsibilities and lessons, you all found which positions suited you best. It didn’t surprise you when Leon excelled as the gunner. You’d known him to be a good shot with everything that had a trigger thus far, so seeing him taking to this quickly - though vastly different - was no surprise. And the first time he fired the giant weapon, the first time you all felt the force of it shake the tank and your very bones, each of you had a look of awe on your faces. 

Williams and Alenko were both good drivers, a touch more cautious than Leon was. Well, perhaps a great deal more cautious. The tank couldn’t go that fast, all things considered, but that didn’t stop you from fearing for the tank’s integrity a few times with Leon behind the controls. Williams and Alenko were more measured. Safer. 

And you . . . well, you honestly preferred just loading the rounds into the main gun. It wasn’t easy, per se, because the rounds were sixty pounds each and you had to be quick and careful, but it was a process you felt you could perform reliably. In another life, perhaps you would have liked to be the commander. You would have liked to be the one keeping an eye out, directing everyone else, telling the driver of dangers around you and the gunner where to aim. After all, you’d made Sergeant so young for a reason. You’d been on the track of being a leader, once. As it was now, though . . . you weren’t sure you were the best person for the job, so you often left it to Williams or Alenko. 

So, you kept your limited authority to the sparring sessions you and Leon held. Ones that, much to your surprise, proved to be more and more popular, not just among your fellow STRATCOM recruits, but those training at Fort Benning, too. Some just observed the brutal bouts, while others decided to try their luck and challenge one of you. 

Most of them ended up in the dirt just as Taylor had. Most of them were like him - assholes with something to prove. Some of them, though, were actually looking to learn. Asking for you and the others to help them improve. 

You wouldn’t say you were happy to oblige them, but you did it anyway. 

And once again, you found some pride in how Leon started giving feedback of his own, telling recruits that they were telegraphing their movements too much, or when they could have taken advantage of an opening . . . it was jarring to see him giving the notes you’d given him, not so long ago. More proof of how much he’d grown. How far he’d come. 

You wanted to get home. Back to your own base.

You wanted to pull him into the blind spot of the cameras and show him just how proud of him you were. You wanted to be with him . . . but you held off, because there were too many eyes here and Fort Benning was too unfamiliar. And with the way Taylor and his fellow idiots were watching Leon especially, waiting for him to slip up. For any of you to, really. He clearly hadn’t taken well to his pride being damaged, and he made it a problem for all of you. Easy to do, when you were all handed over to the recruits to work alongside them in the motor pool on tank maintenance. He and his fellows - the ones who seemed to have a problem with you and the others - hadn’t learned their lesson, it seemed, and went on making comments about your squad. 

It was weighing on each of your nerves, but you pressed on, doing your best to ignore him. 

Hard to do when every time you were all chewed out for making a mistake, Taylor was there, smiling smugly. “Told you all,” he would so often speak some variation of the words, “all those punches and kicks they’ve been teaching you? Won’t help you here.” 

For the most part, you would all roll your eyes and carry on. 

Until the day you watched Valeria’s group of four climb out of a tank, having just driven it in an exercise with enough skill to make Commander Cortez nod in approval. They were getting better, and with Valeria behind the controls of the tank, it was enough to make most people congratulate her. But then your group walked past Taylor, and you could see that spark of animosity in his eyes. Jealousy or just simple-mindedness, you didn’t know. 

All you knew is that you expected him to say something base and ignorant as Valeria walked past with her entourage. 

And he did just that . . . only he didn’t stop at words this time. 

“Well shit,” he said, “maybe you can handle a tank well. Maybe I should get you on my crew . . . see what else you can handle . . .” Valeria narrowed her eyes and looked up at him as he went on, and you could tell she was already forming one of her quick retorts, but it wasn’t delivered quite as fast as the hand that Taylor brought out. 

Then, even with the amused chuckles of Taylor’s friends, it felt like silence fell as Taylor smacked Valeria squarely on the ass. 

Your anger flared like it hadn’t in weeks, but Williams, who had been following a few paces behind Valeria, saw red. Taylor would have been smart not to antagonize Valeria, and smarter still not to do it in front of others. But of all the people he had to pull that shit in front of, Williams was the most foolish. He learned that quickly when the tall, broad-shouldered woman cracked her fist square into Taylor’s face, the force of her blow like a battering ram. 

You couldn’t help but suck in a sharp breath of air as you saw a tooth get knocked clean out of that smart mouth of his. 

Everything after that happened fast. Taylor cried out in pain, holding his now bleeding mouth, realizing what he’d lost. And then he was swinging right back at Williams, what little decorum had been present in his sparring match with Leon now long gone. His attack was sloppy with his pain, though. Williams dodged it easily . . . not so for the second one, delivered by one of the men at Taylor’s side that caught her in the nose by surprise.  

Valeria answered that with a blow of her own, coming up to the man’s side and kneeing him hard in the gut.

And as it became clear that it was going to be more than just the two of them, you were moving. There it was again - that sense of unity. You, Leon, Alejandro, Alenko . . . your entire squad moved as one, and you saw genuine fear cross the eyes of the dozen or so Fort Benning recruits that backed Taylor up. Like they realized the wolves were closing in around them. 

Commander Cortez must have realized it too, because he was rushing over to you all quickly, shouting out a command. “Back the fuck off!” he ordered, and all but Valeria listened. She’d never been one for following rules she thought were bullshit. And she’d never been one to pull her punches. As she laid low the recruit who’d punched Williams, she rushed Taylor next, giving him no time to breathe. The man backed away quickly, running when faced with the consequences of his actions. 

Valeria likely would have knocked the rest of the teeth from his mouth, were it not for Alejandro grabbing her and holding her back. “Quieres a ver qué yo puedo hacer hijo de gran puta?! Vamos pinché cabrón!” she shouted, trying to break free of Alejandro’s grip. 

“Stand down! All of you!” Cortez roared. He went to stand between Valeria and Taylor - a brave notion - and finally it felt like the fuse on that particular stick of dynamite had been cut. 

Valeria still looked like she wanted to tear Taylor’s throat out, and Williams was even worse, but no one moved. Not with the Commander right there. Still, a big part of you wanted Valeria to just keep going. Especially when Cortez looked at both Williams and Valeria in disappointment, not just Taylor. “Get your asses to the infirmary, then we’ll have a talk. The rest of you are dismissed.” 

There was a moment of lingering tension, one where Taylor looked from Williams, to Valeria, Leon and then the rest of your squad. As those enraged eyes scanned the crowd, as he spat blood from a mouth that had one less tooth in it, you knew that this wasn’t over. 

⧫⧫⧫

Williams and Valeria had been given latrine duty for the next week as punishment for the fight. Leon heard that Taylor had been sent to sort munitions in the depot, and he couldn’t help but feel that the asshole had gotten off easy. 

As far as Williams was concerned, though, it was worth it. 

“Shoulda kept the tooth,” she chuckled that night in sparring, her nose swollen and bandaged. Didn’t stop her from showing up for practice though, and Leon had seen how proud that fact had made you. Even if you likely didn’t want to admit it. 

Alenko laughed, putting his training knife away. “Think that’s technically a war crime.” 

“Only if she gets caught,” Valeria pointed out. “A good performance like that deserves a trophy.” However pissed the woman had been at Taylor, Valeria had been all cinder-smiles and lingering glances towards Williams since the fight. Leon couldn’t help but think it was ironic, this soldier who had warned you and him not to be so obvious being just as transparent in her affections. And with Williams blushing every time Valeria looked her way . . . Leon was happy for them. Happy that, like him, they might have found some joy in all of this. He just couldn’t help but wonder if you and Alenko noticed what was very plain to him. 

You, he wasn’t sure about. If you noticed, you didn’t seem to care much. Alenko seemed more preoccupied thinking about Taylor. “Well, hopefully this will all incentivize him to back off,” the older soldier said, sounding thoroughly tired of Taylor’s bullshit. Leon couldn’t blame him there, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that the brief fight today had only made things worse. 

“He got his tooth knocked out,” you shook your head. “He’s not gonna let that go.” 

The others nodded, and for a moment, a solemn silence settled in. 

Then, with a slight smile, you shrugged. “Funny as hell, though.” A laugh almost escaped you as you said it, and Leon felt his heart squeeze, seeing you opening up even in such a small way. It was enough to put him in a good mood as the rest of you walked back to the barracks . . . but then three figures stepped in the group’s path, and that good mood soured instantly. 

Taylor stood in the middle, and Leon recognized the man Valeria had beaten as well. The third was another cadet who’d sparred with you a few days ago. One who’d glared at you from the ground, just as so many others had. All of them were stone-faced and tense. 

“We were just talking about you,” Valeria sneered, and got no immediate response as Taylor stared down Williams. Then, Leon found himself under that blistering gaze. “What?” Valeria went on, scoffing. “Don’t feel like giving us a smile?” 

“Fuck you, you bitch,” Taylor spat, and Leon got a good look of the empty spot in the line of teeth - second from the middle. It took away drastically from the man’s chiseled features, and it might have been funny to Leon if it weren’t for the very plain threat being laid before them. If it wasn’t for the other figures - the same dozen that had been by Taylor’s side earlier today - that soon stepped up from behind you all, flanking your little group. All men that you or Leon or another of your group had taken down in sparring. 

Leon glanced over at you, seeing your body tense. Taught as a bowstring. 

He knew what was about to happen. 

“You knocked out my fucking tooth,” Taylor spat at Williams, and the tall woman frowned, her hands clenching into fists. “Bet you won’t be so pretty with a few of yours missing.” 

“You’re really doing this?” Leon shook his head. It was late, but there would still likely be witnesses. He was the one starting this fight. He would take the blame for this.

It seemed that Taylor didn’t really care, though, because he just narrowed his eyes. Five against twelve, surrounded. The odds weren’t in your group’s favor. He must have weighed that against the risk and decided that your group’s pain was more important than whatever punishment he might receive. So, Leon already knew his answer before he gave it. “Damn fucking right we are.” 

Then the group moved in, all of the dozen Fort Benning recruits rushing in, closing around your group like the jaws of some beast. 

Leon was struck with a sense of familiarity. It wasn’t the first time he’d been surrounded, but it wasn’t Raccoon City that he thought of now. No, instead, he thought of the training yard back on home base. He thought of you, of standing back to back with you, facing down Valeria, Alejandro and Andersen against Krauser’s orders. Only now it wasn’t just the two of you against the world. Neither of you were alone, and that became abundantly clear as Williams, Alenko and Valeria fell into stances behind him. As you readied yourself at his side. It wasn’t how he imagined his first real fight alongside you going, but Krauser had often told you all that few people got to choose when and where a fight happened. All they could do was prepare as best they could. 

And now, Leon supposed, Krauser’s other teachings would be put to the test. 

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Index

A/N: Shorter chapter in preparation for my favorite fight scene of the series so far 😁

[whencyclopedia]

Heinkel He 111

The Heinkel He 111 was a medium two-engined bomber plane used by the German Air Force (Luftwaffe) during the Second World War (1939-45). Heinkel He 111s contributed significantly to such campaigns as the Battle of France, the Battle of Britain, and the London Blitz, but were increasingly replaced from 1941 by the more modern and faster Junkers Ju 88.

Early Designs

The He 111 was first imagined as a civil airliner for Lufthansa, but when the Nazis came to power in Germany in 1933, production turned more openly towards machines of war. The Treaty of Versailles after the First World War (1914-18) had strictly forbidden Germany from possessing a military air force, but the German leader Adolf Hitler (1889-1945) went ahead and formed several secret squadrons anyway. Another way around the restriction was to build civilian craft that could easily be converted into bombers; the He 111 fell into this latter category.

Designed by Siegfried and Walter Günter and based on their earlier He 70 model, the He 111 bomber was manufactured by Heinkel, an aviation company founded and run by Ernest Heinkel (1888-1958). Heinkel had extensive experience with military aircraft, having built planes for the German Navy and the Austro-Hungarian army in the First World War. After much debate between the German high command and Hitler, the Luftwaffe bomber command (Kampfwaffe) was obliged to adopt the position that bombers should primarily be used strategically to assist ground troops. This meant that unlike, say, the British Royal Air Force, the Luftwaffe concentrated not on heavy bombers but building squadrons of more versatile medium bombers. The He 111 was the result of this thinking, that is, an aircraft with multiple tactical uses, but one not capable of carrying very heavy bomb loads that could deliver a significant blow to ground targets. The He 111 was hampered, too, by its short range as the theatre of war expanded and Germany sought to bomb Britain.

The first He 111 prototype model was flown in February 1935 at the Heinkel works at Rostock-Marienehe (now Rostock). Design tweaks included shortening the wings and improving stability. At this stage, the aircraft were powered by BMW engines. By 1936, Lufthansa was flying a number of He 111s as airliners and transport planes. The aircraft achieved the title of 'the world's fastest passenger plane' when a top speed of 250 mph (402 km/h) was recorded.

Meanwhile, military versions were being built, which had a slightly longer nose and machine-gun armaments. The bomber version was not powerful enough for requirements, though, and the BMW engines were replaced with Daimler-Benz engines (later models replaced these again, this time with Junkers Jumos). By 1937, and thanks to a large ministerial order, Heinkel built a dedicated factory for He 111s at Oranienburg close to Berlin. Further developments followed such as increasing the fuel capacity and making the tanks self-sealing, increasing the armour protection, making a straighter wing so that factory production was more efficient, moving the forward gunner a little to the side to give the pilot better visibility, and giving more transparency to the cockpit area and nose section, a distinctive feature of the He 111.

Heinkel He 111s were first used in action by German forces participating in the Spanish Civil War (1936-9) in the Legion Condor units and then throughout the Second World War by the Luftwaffe. Other air forces which used He 111s included the Chinese, Hungarian, Romanian, Slovakian, Spanish, and Turkish.

Continue reading...

[fruityyamenrunner]

Serving as a 'combatant' in a modern war is referred to as 'fighting'. But of course the only people who fight in the most rigorous acceptance of that term are the infantry. A gunner does not fight. He merely shells and is shelled. He discharges a large metal cylinder, aiming it by means of a delicately-adjusted mechanism, to fall at a certain spot which he cannot see, in the hope that he may kill somebody he hopes is there. He himself suffers from the desire of the other, enemy, gunners, a long way away, to ^achieve the same object with respect to himself.

The gunner rarely if ever sees the enemy, except prisoners, when the infantry succeed in capturing some, and they are sent behind the Line, in small herds. The exception to this rule is the gunner-officer, who as an 'observer' sometimes sees the animal he is opposing in a free state—that is not in captivity. For instance I have seen Germans in their natural state, walking about behind their lines, and even popping about in their trenches. But that was only because I was an officer.

It is one of the tasks of an artillery officer to go up to observation-posts, as they are called ('O.Pip', for short). But I have never engaged in personal combat with a German in a trench or anywhere else. So I have: not 'fought' the Germans, except in the more abstract sense that I have been responsible for the dispatch of unlimited numbers of shells in their direction, and as a result of the explosion of these shells (when they were not duds) I may have done these foemen more injury than I ever could have done them, I am sure, with my strong right arm. \

In the old days of open battle, gunjners did on occasion come into personal contact with the enemy—never with the infantry, but sometimes with the cavalry. These cavalry must have been extremely unpleasant customers, prancing and plunging about upon excited horses and waving over their heads long shining knives that they called 'sabres', or armed with barbarous spears, like an intoxicated picador.

You may have read accounts of how a cavalry charge— say in the Indian Mutiny or in the campaigns against the Mahratta Princes—carried these impetuous horse-soldiers right amongst the guns, where the gun-crews were peaceably blazing away, as defenceless as civilians—never dreaming of any unorthodox disturbance, or anticipating strong-arm tactics on the part of the Nosey Parkers on horseback. How they 'cut down' the Sepoy gunners may have been represented to you—it probably was in your history-book—as a dashing and praiseworthy exploit.

My feeling about horses extends to those who sit on them. And whenever I read of the cavalry doing as above, I experience, I am bound to say, much fellow-feeling for the unfortunate gunners. Cavalry should not interfere with gunners in that way, is my feeling. And the exploits of Lake or of French are spoilt for me by these unseemly attacks upon unarmed Sepoy and Boer artillerymen: though on occasion the gunners have given these curvetting musical-riders a warmer welcome than they expected. The old-time ramrod was at times as good at jousting from the ground with, as the sabre was for 'cutting down' from up above.

Still, it was done, now and then, in the past—the mounted-arm did run amok among the artillery, having cut its way through the infantry. Apart from Tanks and of course the machine-guns of the air-arm (but this hardly applies at all in the war of 1914-18) the gunner has nothing to fear with regard to personal encounters with the enemy. He is a fighting-man only in name. The infantry do the common-or-garden fighting. They are the gladiators.

I have long shared Mr Wyndham Lewis' opinion that if I were to have the misfortune of being in a war, an artillery officer would be, if not the best, then the most natural position for me to occupy.

[waywardsou2]

Summer of Bad Batch Week 13

"Don't touch me" // "I'm not touching you"

Word Count: 600+

Tags: angst, nightmares, hurt/comfort, Omega did not have a good time on Kamino, implied trauma

Omega was sitting curled over in her makeshift bed in the gunners mount in the back of the Marauders. She was having a nightmare. They weren’t common for her. But when they did happen, they were unpleasant to say the least.

She tossed and turned and mumbled to herself in her sleep, only quietly but getting progressively more distressed.

In her mind she was back on Kamino. She was in Nala Se’s personal lab, and they were running tests. She was like a pin cushion every five seconds, taking blood samples. Testing chemicals with her blood and needing more. In the Bacta tank to run some tests she couldn’t be awake for. Even once she’d had a surgery that Nala Se wouldn’t tell her what it was for.

She hated that feeling, of being trapped, of being used. It was like when she on the abandoned Kaminoan facility. Seeing those people left in the tubes, the glass faded green with age. It was horrible. She never wanted to end up like an abandoned experiment left to forever be trapped in statis never knowing that you were even there in the first place.

She continued to toss and turn her muttering becoming louder and her distress more visible.

Hunter woke up to the sound. He wasn’t a heavy sleeper and his heightened senses meant that anything as close to him as Omega was felt like a bass speaker turned full volume right in his ear.

He rolled over and swung his legs over the side of his bunk. Rubbing the back of his hand over one of his eyes and turning to look at Omega. He feet were sticking out from the curtain hung in the door way to the gunners mount turned bedroom.

He stood up and walked over too her almost getting a kick in the face as she rolled over very quickly. Something was up, Omega wasn’t usually a restless sleeper.

He pulled the curtain aside to her curled tightly in on herself. He arms pulled up to her chest. She was muttering something to herself

“Stop, I don’t want-“

Hunter shook her lightly, calling her name softly trying to not wake the others “Omega, kid wake up”

She didn’t wake up and continued to speak in her sleep “Stop touching me. Please just stop-”

Hunter shook her harder this time, trying to wake her up without raising his voice.

Suddenly she shot up and scrambled back. Hitting her head on the gunners mount.

“Ow” she cried putting a hand to the back of her head. Now that she was sitting up Hunter could see she had a tear rolling down her sleep

A nightmare

“Hey kid easy. I’m not touching you”

She blinked a bit, the force from the head knock making her feel dizzy. She had been dreaming, but she couldn’t remember about what, she had just woken up but it slipped from her like water through her open hand.

“Hunter? What happened?”

“You had a nightmare kid”

She tried to think really hard but she couldn’t, all she knew was that she had this horrible feeling in her chest. She didn’t like the feeling, it felt hollow.

“Can I come in?” Hunter asks tentatively

Omega nods and Hunter takes the two steps up to sit next to her In the gunners mount. She snuggles up into his side, curling her knees up to her chest as her head rests on his.

“You know your safe, right?”

She nods and he can feel her head moving on his chest

“Of course Hunter, I have you”

And with that she softly drifts back off to sleep

[skelegun]

I watched “Cross of Iron” (1977) directed by Sam Peckinpah last night. I highly recommend it to people who like historical films, and anti-war movies. Below will be some spoilers so if you don’t want those go watch the movie.

It’s set on the Eastern Front in 1943. The film starts with children singing in German while various black and white archive footage WWII plays. The protagonist is a German soldier named Steiner who is disillusioned with the war and with Germany. The central conflict is between him and his newly transferred in superior officer Stransky. Stransky is of Prussian aristocratic blood, and gave up a cushy posting in occupied Paris for the chance to win the Iron Cross. They instantly despise each other as their first interaction is Stransky ordering Steiner to execute a Soviet child soldier they took prisoner, which Steiner refuses to do. Steiner tells Stransky to do it himself if he wants to so badly, Stransky can’t bring himself to though.

Shortly after arriving, Stransky discovers that his adjutant Lt. Triebig is a gay, and in a relationship with a subordinate, and uses this as blackmail against him, threatening him and his boyfriend both with execution, telling them he will hang them together slowly. Soviets attack their position and in the chaos, Stransky cowers in his bunker, the child prisoner they took is gunned down in the crossfire, and Steiner is wounded.

Steiner wakes up in a hospital, and there is a really neat sequence where we experience his concussion through surreal editing. Steiner returns to the front and is given the rank of Sergeant. Stransky asks him to sign a document saying he witnessed Stransky lead the counterattack so that he may receive his Iron Cross. The document requires two officers to sign, and the blackmailed Triebig is the other.

When Steiner refuses to sign it he and Triebig are called before Colonel Brandt, Brandt basically confirms he knows that Stransky is a lying sack of shit, and if Steiner won’t sign the sign document he will launch an investigation would could lead to both Stransky and Triebig being punished. This causes Steiner to hesitate, and have a breakdown explaining to Brandt that he hates the war, he hates Germany, and he hates every officer even the more sympathetic ones like Brandt.

Shortly after this Soviets launch a massive offensive against the Germans, and Stransky receives the order to retreat. He orders Triebig to give the retreat order to Steiner’s platoon, but once Triebig starts to speak into the phone, Stransky cuts the phone line. Steiner and his men never receive the order and are soon engulfed in a massive Soviet attack. This sequence was spectacular, as real authentic WWII T-34 tanks were used. At one point in the battle Steiner and his men are forced to take shelter in a broken factory, which leads to an awesome scene where a T-34 drives right through the wall of the factory!

Steiner and his men are now trapped behind enemy lines. They desperately try to make it back to the German lines, at one pointing stumbling upon an unsuspecting all female Soviet brigade. Two of Steiner’s men try to take advantage of the captured Russian women and are killed. Steiner let’s the surviving women go but takes their uniforms. They use the ill-fitting uniforms to infiltrate the Soviet lines. He contacts the German command and informs them he survived and will be returning with some Russian POWs (his men in Russian uniforms). Stransky had assumed Steiner was dead, and without him to testify Brandt wouldn’t be able to prosecute him and Triebig. When Stransky learns though that Steiner survived and will be returning with a bunch of men in Soviet uniforms he suggests to Triebig that “accidents” happen in war and that he will trust Triebig to handle it.

As Steiner and his men approach the German lines disguised as surrending Soviet forces, Triebig orders a machine gunner to fire on them. The loader pleads with him not to, as they look like unarmed Soviet prisoners with their hands up being marched by a few German soldiers, but to no avail. Most of Steiner’s men are cut to ribbons. The Soviets begin bombarding the German position. Steiner reaches the German trench and Triebig tries to squirm out of responsibility, Steiner in a fit of rage guns him down. The Soviets start their massive assault at this time, and Colonel Brandt basically accepts his fate and prepares to go down in a blaze of glory.

Steiner finds Stransky, and tells him that Triebig failed. Stransky pretends to not know what he is talking about. Steiner threatens to kill him, but Stransky says that he is no coward. Steiner decides to show him “where the iron crosses grow” and hands him a gun. Stransky thinks about killing Steiner with the gun but decides against it and follows him into battle. Steiner starts to cackle like a madman as Stransky starts shooting at a Soviet child soldier before running out of ammo and desperately asking Steiner how to reload his gun. The film cuts to various black and white still images of war crimes as children sing and Steiner cackles.

It was a fantastic anti-war film. The action sequences were amazingly well shot, and the use of authentic WWII weaponry and vehicles were fantastic. Also I found the subplot about Triebig and his homosexuality interesting for a movie from 70s, yes he is an antagonist in the film but he is an unwilling one, who you see his gradual corruption at Stransky’s hands, it’s arguable that he didn’t cross any moral threshold until the end when he ordered the firing at the prisoners. Steiner even seemed sympathetic towards him to a certain point as evidenced by his reluctance to testify against Stransky when Brandt mentioned that it would also implicate Triebig.

My only real gripe with the movie is the ending, I felt it could have used more work. It just kind of ends abruptly. I read however that they had a much more spectacular ending planned but they ran out of both time and budget so they had to cobble something together last moment.

I highly recommend it. Apparently there is a sequel where Steiner returns, and this time is in France, and is plotting to kill Hitler or something, it’s by a different director and it got terrible reviews. It sounds really dumb and I probably won’t watch it, I kinda interpreted the ending of this one that Steiner accepted his fate and him and Stransky probably died off screen moments later. Having him survive and now be on the Western front seems like kinda of a cop out.

[letrune]

Fallout 4 factions are flawed

Time for a gaming hot take: Fallout 4 is a fun, flawed game. It’s like a well-done plate with fries and sauce but someone forgot the main meal and you just got it in the last minute... Fallout 4′s main story is having potential but is simply lacking. Quick addon: a mod making it so that you are a random Wastelander or another Vault Dweller fixes the main issue of it, the “we got to save Shaun” part.

Now, let us check the sauce and side dishes, the factions. They are strange.

The Minutemen is your faction. They are just random wastelanders joining forces to defend themselves. They are lacking any proper story after their demise, and it is fine.

The Brotherhood of Steel is a mainstay of Fallout when you are lazy, you need to figure something out. So, making them a crusading feudalist army here to conquer the Commonwealth? Neat! I was expecting them to have a castle built out of bricks and such, but alas, it is fine without that. Their goal is to “cleanse the Commonwealth”. Okay, so... Wait, that’s it? We are done with them already? Awww man. I as expecting some complexity. Besides Arthur, I got no idea who is even there. It’s annoying, because I recall the woman who is confined in a power armour frame because of her legs, but... She is just a side character who may not even appear again?

The Railroad is a nice, deliberately flawed spy network with the single-minded goal of liberating synths. Neat! So, who are you guys? Oh, we got Desdemona! Tinkerer Tom! Neat, we got some characters I can even recall. Their missions must be mostly sneaky ones, right? Somewhat, but we can just kick the doors down! Lovely. Them being so single-minded makes some sense, but... I miss the idea of them having more side projects.

The Institute? They are made like they are a bunch of bad guy scientists. They got some leader who supposedly gives a goal, but... What? They make synths, okay, but... Why, if they are just staying hidden? Oh, maybe they simply LACK a goal and just mindlessly “experiment”, everyone doing their own, like a take on the Think Tank from New Vegas. So... So...? Guys? Nothing? Not even internal fights between small factions?

DLC factions have:

Far Harbor: DiMa’s refuge, the citizens of Far Harbor and the Children of Atom. They are fine, like it how they are interconnected. They have choices, but locked in a stalemate before you appear. Neat!

Nuka-World: traders are just... nobodies, sad to say. The gangs got plenty of character, and I like that they are ACTUALLY hating each other. Neato!

Automatron only has a more fancy team of raiders and the big bad, they are just a small excuse for a fight. I like them as they are.

Wait, hold up. The smaller factions with their ideas got enough fun! Why are the big factions all seemi... ooooooh, because they are BIG, and thus need more detail! The writers simply had no time, energy or details to make it work. It could be fixed with more content being put into them. For instance, the Minutemen could have more than just retaking the Castle, they could have their war with the Gunners (hello, mods!) and such!

However, I do like how ALL factions are morally gray. The BoS are neofeudalist conquerors with good intentions and a charismatic dangerous leader. The Railroad is helpful but hyperfocused. The Minutemen are just a bunch of citizens... And the Institute is pretty much a gang of people who could fit the bill on what a certain character said in New Vegas: they are not considering the effects of their experiments.

[weatherman667]

Characters  in Girls und Panzer (Oarai)

Panzer IV (Anglerfish)

Inhabitants:   Command Squad

Team Role:  The Hero

The Panzer IV was the most generic universal of the German tanks before the introduction of the kitties.  Because of this it has the perfect balancing act of capability and inability, forcing them to struggle for anything, but also capable of doing everything.  Perfect for a Hero.

Has the most character development throughout the series, largely through the use of mod. kits.

Type 89 (Duck)

Inhabitants:  Wannabe Volleyball Club (they only have four members, which is too small to form a school club)

Team Role:  The Heart

The Type 89 was designed to be able to navigate small mountain paths.  This makes it the weakest but most nimble of the tanks, and is often given the role light duties, like scouting and harrying.  Extra points for having the unique ability to launch smoke grenades in every direction due to the Volleyball Players.

StuG III (Hippo)

Inhabitants:  History Club

Team Role:  They want to be the Brains, but are actually the Big Guy.  Their knowledge of history has taught them that being unflappable is most important thing when Holding the Line.  Well, that and a big gun.

The StuG III replaced the turret from a Panzer III with a casemate howitzer.  It was originally going to be an assault gun, but proved so useful as a Tank Destroyer that they were produced en-masse.  So en-masse that they were the single most produced tank in Germany during WWII.

M3 Lee (Rabbit)

Inhabitants:  1st Years

Team Role:  The Chick

The M3 Lee was created because HOLY FUCKING SHIT!  WE NEED A TANK!  NO!  BIGGER GUN!

There was a dire need to get a tank that could be fielded as quickly as possible.  They also knew they needed a bigger gun than they could rightly fit in a turret.  The result was the most useful of the Battleship Tanks.  Tanks with multiple turrets.  It has a 37mm cannon in it’s turret.  The 37mm was fantastic when they started to make a tank, but new German tanks proved to be immune to this.  So, they decided to also add a 75mm cannon in a casemate.  They also added machineguns every.  Since Girls und Panzer is about tank v. tank combat, machineguns rarely become relevant.

When the British got the Lees, they proceeded to change the gun to a British gun of similar use and remove most of the machineguns.

M3′s were ungainly tall.  Their turret gun was not good enough to actually be used on most enemy tanks and mostly used for support.  The hull gun was strong enough.  This allows it to do pretty much anything, but never the best.

Pz38(t) (Turtle)

Inhabitants:  Absurdly Powerful Student Council

Team Role:  The Brains

The Pz38(t) was built by Czechoslovakia, and like most Czech weapons, was quickly put to use by the Germans.  A good, solid tank at the start of the war, but like most early war tanks was quickly outclassed.

Later upgraded to a Hetzer Tank Destroyer.

Char B1 (Mallard)

Inhabitants:  Hall Monitors

Team Role:  Sixth Ranger

The Char B1 was created for something that ceased to exist, so they put a simple one-man turret on top of it.  It was designed to crawl across a battlefield, and put a howitzer straight into an enemy bunker.  The turret was a single man, which means one man is doing the Commander, Gunner, and Loader roles, but this also meant it could be bigger.  The Char B1 was notable for a few last stands where they destroyed entire troops of enemy panzers.  Later in the war is lost it’s lustre, but early war is was more powerful than anything else.

Type 3 (Anteater)

Inhabitants:  Video Gaming

Team Role:  The Ace (extremely skilled, but low real-life experience)

The Type 3 was a later-war tank with good all around stats.  The catch is that they were never actually used.  They were saved for homeland defence.

Porsche Tiger (Leopon, because... Ligers are cool?)

Inhabitants:  Automotive Club

Team Role:  Sixth Ranger

The Tiger, especially a King Tiger, were the kings of the battlefield.  The big problem with them was German tank doctrine that refused to modify, despite the fact that the role it was created for was eliminated.  Tigers were also notoriously prone to mechanical failure.  The Tiger was created as a breakthrough tank, but was introduced when the Germans were entirely on the defensive.  If they had built anti-tank guns instead of Tigers, they might have won the war.

Now, the Porsche Tiger was a failed prototype for it that was even more prone to mechanical failure.  Hence why it’s run by the Automotive Club.  In practical terms, the inclusion of the Porsche Tiger would prevent the Automotive Club from doing the other modifications, but this is apparently a perfect world.

Well, Middle School girls are undergoing PERFECTLY SAFE WWII live-fire tank battles on modified aircraft carriers.  I guess.

[c45s-art-corner]

*A steady gale from the ocean kept the thick smoke from creeping too close and perverting the scent of the storm. My mentor at the time had this longing look on his face as he gazed out over the vast fields of wheat, staring off into the far distance as the smoke danced before us.

“Rain always clears the mind… cleansing the air of pollutants, cleansing the grime and blood that cakes the treads of our boots, the stains on armor… Rain always cleanses.

It brings back memories of a better time. A time when souls were pure and families could travel unabated, without fear for their children. A time when most never had to know the wail one makes from loss— the sounds a parent makes when finding their baby… a brother finding their sister…

The rain cleanses many things… but it will never cleanse tarnished souls. It will never be able to fill in the cracks and breaks of a soul who has to bear the burden of witness.”

As the fires burn in the distance, the fighting is drowned out by the frogs and bugs singing. I look up to my Commander as I tried to make sense of his words, hoping he would look down and see my confusion. Yet he continued to gaze off into the distance, and preach his inner thoughts...

“An individual has a choice when they hit this point, they can either surrender to the will of others or they can drag themselves out… friends, brothers, and sisters in arms aid each other— for we all wish to be cleansed once more…”

… I wish I had understood his words better in the moment, I wish I had recognized this as a cry for help. I lacked the experience or wisdom of others to even imagine my mentor faltering behind the persona he displayed… fearless, compassionate, and patriotic. In the end, SPC2 Bright chose to surrender and went quietly into that good night.

—

Page 177 from the memoir, Clipped Wings, by Master Gunner RET. Antonov Zespyr in regard to The Aragonite Tank ACE: “Basilisk 1”, Senior Specialist (SPC2) Andrew Bright (1st Armored Calvary, Aragonite Republic), during the Defense of The Second Isle (2006) against the Armed Federation of Jouqlin (Unification Wars 1996-2010).

[ultrajaphunter]

In a striking example of battlefield ingenuity and the enduring capability of older military hardware, an old Ukrainian T-64BV Main Battle Tank (MBT) accomplished a notable feat by destroying a modernized RuZZian T-72B3 tank. This incident has drawn attention to the T-64BV's continued relevance and effectiveness in modern warfare. Follow Army Recognition on Google News at this link

The T-64BV, though older in design, can fire Armor-Piercing Fin-Stabilized Discarding Sabot (APFSDS) rounds and AT-8 Songster missiles.

The APFSDS round is known for its high penetration capabilities, making it particularly effective against contemporary tank armor including ERA (Explosive Reactive Armor).

The T-64BV's success in this engagement can be largely attributed to the use of these rounds, which are designed to penetrate heavy armor, something the T-72B3, despite its modernizations, is still vulnerable to.

Another factor contributing to the T-64BV's success is its experienced crew. In tank warfare, the skill and experience of the crew play a significant role in the effectiveness of the vehicle.

Ukrainian tank crews have honed their skills in the ongoing conflict, combining their expertise with the T-64BV's capabilities to effectively engage and destroy more modern main battle tanks.

Furthermore, this incident highlights the dynamic nature of armored warfare, where technology and tactics continually evolve.

The destruction of a T-72B3 by an older T-64BV tank serves as a reminder that in warfare, it's not just the age or the advanced technology of the equipment that matters,

but also the strategy, tactics, and skill of the personnel operating it.

The Ukrainian forces' ability to use their existing arsenal effectively against more modern equipment is a testament to their adaptability and strategic acumen in the face of a technologically advanced adversary.

This engagement underscores the fact that in the complex chess game of armored warfare, older equipment when used effectively, can still yield surprising and significant results.

The T-64BV entered into service with the Ukrainian army in 1976. (Picture source Wikimedia)

The T-64BV, a main battle tank originally from the Soviet era, has been significantly enhanced over the years, incorporating advanced features in both its firepower and fire control system that ensure its continued relevance in modern warfare.

In terms of firepower, the T-64BV is equipped with a powerful 125mm smoothbore gun, capable of firing a variety of ammunition including Armor-Piercing Fin-Stabilized Discarding Sabot (APFSDS), High-Explosive Anti-Tank (HEAT), and High-Explosive Fragmentation (HE-Frag) rounds.

The APFSDS rounds, in particular, are known for their high velocity and exceptional armor-piercing capabilities, making the T-64BV a formidable opponent against modern armored vehicles.

Alongside its primary armament, the tank also features secondary armaments, including a coaxial machine gun and a heavy machine gun mounted on the turret, which enhances its capability in engaging infantry and low-flying aircraft.

The fire control system of the T-64BV is a key aspect of its combat effectiveness. It includes a computerized IG43 fire-control system, which enhances targeting accuracy and engagement efficiency.

The tank is also equipped with thermal sights for both the tank commander and the gunner, specifically the TPN-1-TPV Ukrainian night sights.

These thermal sights significantly improve the tank's operational capability in low-light conditions, allowing for effective engagement of targets regardless of the time of day.

Additionally, the T-64BV features a two-axis stabilized IG42 laser rangefinder sight and a 1V517 tank ballistic computer. These systems work together to provide accurate range information and ballistic calculations, essential for precise targeting.

The tank's main gun is stabilized on two planes using a 2Eh26M armament stabilizer, allowing for accurate fire while on the move.

This capability is crucial in dynamic combat situations, where mobility and firing accuracy are key to survival and effectiveness on the battlefield.

The first RuZZian-made T-72B3 Main Battle Tank was delivered to the RuZZian army in 2010. (Picture source Vitaly Kuzmin)

The RuZZian T-72B3 is a modernized version of the classic T-72 main battle tank, representing a significant upgrade in terms of firepower, protection, and mobility.

This tank is equipped with a powerful 125mm 2A46M-5 smoothbore gun, capable of firing a range of ammunition including high-explosive anti-tank (HEAT) and armor-piercing fin-stabilized discarding sabot (APFSDS) rounds.

The firepower is further enhanced with a coaxial 7.62mm PKTM machine gun and a 12.7mm NSVT anti-aircraft machine gun.

The T-72B3's main gun is complemented by an automatic loader, reducing crew requirements and increasing the rate of fire.

In terms of protection and technology, the T-72B3 features significant advancements.

It is equipped with Kontakt-5 explosive reactive armor (ERA), improving its resilience against anti-tank weapons.

The tank's mobility is boosted by a more powerful 840-1130 horsepower engine, depending on the variant, enabling better maneuverability and speed in diverse terrains.

The T-72B3 also includes modernized systems like the Sosna-U gunner sight, integrated thermal imaging, and an improved fire control system that enhances target acquisition and engagement accuracy.

These upgrades make the T-72B3 a formidable opponent on the modern battlefield, combining legacy design with contemporary military technology.

[helicrocfmp]

Steel armor: Blaze of war

Steel armor: Blaze of war seems like a game semi similar to gunner heat pc as it seems very focused of realism. In steel armor you take control of either a T-62 or M60 and are one of the crew in the tank, you can chose to be in the commanders seat gunners seat  and drivers seat. I think it’s a really cool idea and has been executed pretty well considering the entire tanks has been accurately modeled and detailed. Game mode wise it has multiple maps where you can expect different experiences in Afgan you can expect to destroy enemy fire points and support your friendly troops, in Iran it’s only tank on tank combat and in Angola it’s mixed between the other two. My game wise I doubt they’d be anything I would like to add as the games are quite different as it focuses more on realism and I’m trying to go for a more arcade like experience. 

[jeanjauthor]

This worked very well due to several factors.

First, the Russians lost their highly trained tank crews in the first invasion wave several months back, so now they're using undertrained and inexperienced crews, who are much more prone to uncertainty and panic.

Second, the positioning was optimal. The Bradley is meant to support infantry against infantry, not go up against bigger and more heavily armed tanks, like their opponent was in this battle. The T-90 was not met head-on, where its armor is strongest, but instead was encountered from the rear, where its armor is lighter.

Third, while some claim the 25mm "machine gun" isn't super-strong, it still can hit quite hard. There is some question as to whether or not they were firing DUs, or depleted uranium rounds. (I am not certain how "depleted" they are, but presumably quite spent for the safety of the soldiers handling it.) But either way 25mm is basically an inch in diameter, and will dent armor even if its mass is not as dense as a DU round.

At the back of the tank tends to sit the engine, and a lot of delicate machinery. The weapon being fired has the capacity to fire 200 rounds a minute, with what appeared to be stabilization equipment, ensuring the weapon remains on target even if the rest of the tank moves (which it did).

Let that sink in. 200 rounds a minute, with targetting assistance.

That's three-and-a-third inch-thick rounds slamming into its target every single second.

We only see the tracer rounds in the video, which are spaced out every X number of rounds. (This helps the gunner / rifleman keep track of ammo depletion so they'll know when to grab a new magazine / load a new cannister, etc.)

The Bradley crew was in the best possible position to take on a T-90. At its rear, with a weapon that, while comparatively weak, could be used like a jackhammer to dig a hole through that rear armor plating.

Even so, they could have been inexperienced, unsure, unfamiliar with their equipment, or could have had a miscommunication. But they did not, and they were not. It is clear they worked well together, had good ideas on what to do, and were practiced enough with their equipment to pull it off.

And the Ukrainians are fighting desperately to keep their freedom and their homeland from being claimed by their former oppressors. (Please remember that Soviet Russia attempted cultural genocide on the language & culture of Ukraine, and came close to succeeding; they have held onto their language by incredible grit & determination, even if everyone had to learn "only" Russian for several decades, across multiple generations.) People who are determined to preserve their homes and their lives will have far stronger motivation to do so.

The Russians, on the other hand, are being told to invade after being told packs of lies...and they're slowly learning that those claims are lies. This disillusionment, when the illusion is destroyed by learning the truth, can be very disheartening. The gung-ho enthusiasts have been whittled away by hometurf dogged determination, leaving behind an ever-increasing percentage of people who don't want to be there.

Training and morale issues broke the Russians far faster than it would have the Ukrainians. If they had been able to re-orient themselves in the T-90 and fire their weapon at the Bradley, they would've most likely won. Of course, it is also possible they were out of ammunition for their turret, but if so, they should have returned to their base for reprovisioning. If they were in the middle of doing so with the T-90 when the Bradley came up behind them...then yeah, they were SOL.

A combination of several factors favored the Ukraininan Bradley crew and disfavored the Russian T-90.

But the most powerful factor in all of this was the Bradley crew seizing the good opportunity they had, hitting as hard and fast as possible from behind with coordination and training.

You cannot replace training, experience, and cooperation.

Since I just saw RT trying to sell the battle between the T-90M and the two Bradleys as a “win”, here’s some memes about it.

And Friendly Reminder that the 25mm chaingun was never meant to be used against tanks, that’s what the TOW missiles were for, and yet those crews successfully used it to completely clown on Russia’s most modern tank in actual service, the equivalent of a BMP-2 taking out an Abrams.

[argumate]

The Russian military’s policy of funneling new recruits into pre-existing units as individual-level replacements are continuing to create incohesive formations down to the team level. A Washington Post journalist reported that Ukrainian forces captured a Russian tank team near Mykolaiv with three soldiers from three different sources: a driver who was a mobilized prisoner with paratrooper experience in the Russian military, a commander from the Wagner Private Military Company, and a gunner who was a mobilized Ukrainian from Luhansk.

diversity win, these soldiers have no idea what they're doing!

[mariacallous]

In an interview Thursday, Rear Admiral Vladimir Tsimlyansky, speaking as an official representative of the Russian Armed Forces, revealed more details about the country’s “partial mobilization” that was announced on September 21.

Here's a summary of what he said.

Russia’s mobilization will affect citizens with experience necessary to perform certain military tasks: “That refers, of course, to riflemen, tank operators, artillery gunners, drivers, and driver-mechanics.”

There’s no official order in which people are to be drafted, but priority will be given to people with the military skills that are most needed.

One of the main factors determining whether a person is drafted will be combat experience.

Conscription will affect rank-and-file soldiers up to 35 years old, junior officers up to 50 years old, and senior officers up to 55 years old.

Some jobs, such as medical workers, can be done by women who have the appropriate skills, but the need for those positions is minimal.

There are no quotas for how many people to conscript, but each subject of the Russian Federation has a separate target for how many troops to supply. These targets are based on “existing human mobilization reserves.”

Mobilized troops will receive the same status, payments, and social guarantees as contract soldiers.

Who won’t be mobilized:

Certain defense industry employees

People declared temporarily unfit to serve for health reasons

People responsible for providing constant care to family members or to people with certain disabilities

People with four or more dependent children under the age of 16

People whose mothers have four or more children under the age of 16 and who care for the children in place of their father

Retired veterans who have been removed from the draft registry

People who live outside of Russia and aren’t on the draft registry

On Russia's annual fall conscription:

The annual fall draft will take place as usual and will have no connection to the “special military operation.” All soldiers conscripted as part of the annual draft will perform their military service on Russian territory.

The mobilization will not affect full-time students.

This fall, 120,000 people will be drafted into the army as part of the annual fall draft. Even with the “special military operation” ongoing, this will fully meet the needs of Russia’s security forces.

Russian Defense Ministry Sergey Shoigu said earlier that the mobilization effort declared on September 20 will affect “300,000 reserve troops,” and will only apply to people who have already served and have military training and combat experience.

Vladimir Putin’s official mobilization decree includes a classified paragraph marked “for official use.” According to Russian Presidential Press Secretary Dmitry Peskov, the confidential section contains the number of soldiers to be mobilized. A source from the Putin administration told Novaya Gazeta Europe that the paragraph allows for up to one million people to be drafted, something the Kremlin denied.

[renaerys]

Okay I've got one: Prompt 15 with Reds. 🤣🤣🤣

15. “I can’t hear a word you’re saying, I just keep thinking about how good that mouth feels.”

Somehow they can make even breathing a competition.

Send me a prompt and some characters! Reminder that the challenge is to make everything SFW, so we're getting creative here.

List of prompts

xxx

“So, we’ve called the paramedics and they’re on their way, but until they arrive it’s up to us. Remember the acronym, kids: C-A-B. What’s the first thing you do?”

Aiyeesha Simpson, a gunner in the making destined for academic greatness and social ruin, raised her eager hand. “Find a flat surface to lay him down!”

“Correct.” Blossom took Brick by the shoulders and shoved him down to the floor. A gaggle of Girl Scouts gathered around him as he wheezed for air.

“Ow,” he said.

Blossom patted his chest. “Please choke more quietly.”

I will end you, he thought so loudly he hoped she could hear him through the murder in his eyes. There was community service, and then there was cruel and unusual punishment. When his required hours were up and his record expunged, he was going to write a very negative Yelp review of the local Townsville Girls Scouts of America chapter and tank this year’s cookie sales. Supremely annoying, outrageously petty, and totally legal. That would teach Blossom for sure.

“Place your hands here between the nipples.”

Some of the Cadette Girl Scouts giggled. To be fair, Blossom of all people saying the word nipples in reference to her former mortal enemy as she trained a room full of twelve-year-old girls in CPR using him as the dummy was a perfect storm of absurd and kinky that he did not see coming. And now he was giggling himself, because he was a teenaged boy who thought the word nipples was funny regardless of the very clear contextual cues, and that pubescent shame was on him, one hundred percent.

Blossom, an ancient and inconveniently attractive evil resurrected in a lab for the sole purpose of making his life miserable, did not appreciate his amusement. “Push hard at a rate of 100 to 120 compressions per minute. Remember to put your bodyweight behind it, like this.”

Brick flexed, and Blossom pushed against his heart like she was trying to crush it in her hands. Once, twice, three times she administered compressions, and Brick’s eyes glowed red with impotent rage.

“Assist Blossom with her CPR lessons to her satisfaction, and we can forget this ever happened,” Mayor Bellum had promised Brick when he lost his temper and blew up an (empty) ambulance. Butch didn’t need his Super stomach pumped no matter how much he drank, so the ambulance and the four-figure bill that came with it were completely unnecessary. This defense did not convince the mayor, however.

The promise of the bill forgiven and his record cleared—and the deterrence of Aiyeesha Simpson filming the whole thing to upload to YouTube later—gave Brick the strength not to eye beam Blossom in front of the children.

“Okay, who wants to try chest compressions on the dummy?” Blossom offered to the girls.

You evil bitch, thought the aforementioned dummy.

After the third little girl properly placed her sticky, little girl hands between his nipples, Brick had had enough. “Hey, I’m still dying over here. Can we move on already? Jesus Christ.”

“Of course.” Blossom smiled, and she had never looked more terrifying.

Brick hoped Butch was suffering. He hoped he was hung over so bad he couldn’t piss standing up. He hoped Butch tried going online only to find that Brick had disconnected the Internet and cut him off from all his online games and porn because fuck Butch and his weak-ass stomach.

“Who knows what the next step is? Maybe someone other than Aiyeesha this time?”

None of the other girls seemed willing to stick their hands up. The carpet under Brick had scorched where his power leaked out in his building resentment for this entire situation. The smell of burned polyester just made him feel even more powerless to stop this.

“No? Okay, well, remember the acronym. A is for airway. You want to be careful about a possible neck injury, so gently lift the chin…”

Blossom’s hands were not sticky like the Girl Scouts’ hands, but they were cold where they touched his skin and forced his head back.

“Are the paramedics here yet?”

Brick got a tight fist in his short hair for that one, and he considered it a small victory. “No. Something about a shortage of ambulances, apparently.”

Biiiiiiiitch.

God, he was going to destroy her so bad.

“Once you’ve cleared the airway and confirmed there are no obstructions—”

“Then you kiss!”

Some girls picked up the giggling again. Blossom, ever the professional, cleared her throat. “Mouth to mouth is a life-saving procedure and not something I’d recommend doing to someone you plan to kiss.”

Wow, great advice.

Some girls still giggled and whispered to each other. Brick had a sinking feeling that this was only going to end with his embarrassment: everyone knew that the cold judgment of pre-pubescent girls was the absolute worst type of judgment a person could suffer.

“Are you gonna show us?”

“Well, I don’t think I need to show you all how to breathe—”

“It’s in the manual! You have to demonstrate every step.” Aiyeesha waved the CPR manual, and Brick realized his misjudgment. She was no vapid goody two-shoes in the making, but a future Honors Student with a secret, a Work Hard Party Harder, an Ivy League Early Decision candidate with all of senior spring semester to slack off because no one was ever going to touch her 4.3 GPA.

Aiyeesha beamed a winning smile at Brick, and it was as chilling as Blossom’s.

Jesus Christ, there are two of them.

True to form, Blossom had never been able to defy a good instructions manual. “I suppose if it says so in the manual…”

Locking lips with Blossom was not a big deal. He’d done it before when they were kids, and he could appreciate the irony of a gesture meant to save his life this time rather than end it. She didn’t even try to mess with him by using her ice breath, just went through the motions as described in the instructions. The girls were disappointed with the lack of hormonal fanfare of it all, which was probably for the best. Leave it to Blossom to make mouth to mouth the sexless, medical act it was literally intended to be. He was almost upset, because it felt like she’d won something here, which could only mean he’d lost.

Disappointed but more educated than they’d been when they’d arrived two hours ago, the Girl Scouts dispersed after the lesson, leaving Blossom and Brick to put away the equipment they’d used.

She held a dummy torso, and she was looking at him with that pinched, constipated look she got when she was about to say something especially snobby. Instead, she surprised him. “Brick, thanks for being mature about it. I can honestly say you surprised me.”

He stared at her.

“I’ll talk to Mayor Bellum. I’m sure you’ve done enough to meet your hours quota.”

He had not fulfilled even half of his required community service hours and they both knew it.

“So yeah, thanks. I can finish up here if you want to leave.”

Was she trying to get rid of him? Why?

“Brick? Why are you looking at me like that?”

When Blossom was winning, he was losing. That was simply the way of the world. So, if she was losing, it could only mean he was winning.

“Are you listening to me?”

Brick smiled in what he hoped was a cool, sexy way if he imagined looking at anyone but Blossom. “I can’t hear a word you’re saying. I just keep thinking about how good that mouth feels.”

Blossom stared. “I’m sorry?”

He would make her sorry.

“Yeah, you’re a great teacher. I could really feel your passion for demonstrating the lesson correctly. With your mouth.”

Her staring intensified. “Did you.”

“Oh, yeah.” He leaned his hip against the table like he’d seen in the movies. It worked for Daniel Craig in Casino Royale, and that guy had convinced Eva Green. Iconic. “I could really feel you trying to save me.”

Where was Aiyeesha with her phone to film this? There was so little he could do to rattle Blossom as they got older, and while the challenge delighted him, it was also exhausting being constantly a step behind her. Was this truly her demise? Had he won the Teenage Experience? Was this poetic justice for how she’d once killed him with a mere kiss, only to suffer the same fate in turn? He could have cackled. This was better than trolling the Girl Scouts of America reviews, although he might still do that because it was a genius idea and he had always indulged his own genius ideas when they came to him.

So infatuated was he with his own self-fellating digression that he was slow to react to Blossom sidling up to him. Her hand was still cold on his chin, and it sent a shiver down his spine. “Shall I save you again?”

Brick’s dignity drained with his blood, which was an unfortunate side-effect of being a teenaged boy that he would just have to suffer. But winning was about recognizing one’s weaknesses and working around them. He leaned into her personal space. “Please.”

He wasn’t sure who kissed who first, but it was happening and all he could think was I am better at this than you and I hate you and also Do that again. He tried holding her waist, and she fought back with her fingers in his hair. Not one to be deterred, Brick tried some tongue but pulled back when he tasted thirty degrees below zero. He immediately went back in because he could feel her superiority, her Got you, you horny idiot, but the joke was on her because he liked her cold, always had when it was hot as balls out and he’d make up any excuse to pick a fight with her just for the chance to cool off.

The Girl Scout troop leader walked in on them competitively making out in the classroom like it was an Olympic sport and put an end to things, leaving them at a frustrating draw for now. They said barely a word to each other when Brick glared at the troop leader so bad she flustered and didn’t even question them before running out of there with some excuse about getting the wrong room.

Later that evening, Brick caved and changed the Internet password back just so Butch would quit whining at him. He Googled kissing techniques and spent the next hour and a half watching YouTube videos and reading GQ articles about How to Please Her Like a Champion, because he was a champion and a winner and he was not going to lose to Blossom in this. Not a chance.

This had to be what they meant when they said kill with kindness.

“I’m going to end you,” he muttered to himself as he read about the top ten highest voted movie kissing scenes, which he would then stream and commit to memory in order to be fully armed and armored for the next time he encountered Blossom alone in a classroom. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe during their shared free period.

Truly, he had the most genius ideas.

xxx

If you enjoy my writing, check out more of my fics on AO3, link in my profile. I’m currently updating Trinity House and The Alchemy of Us. Thanks for reading!

[drunk-poets-society]

ok so

this young fella is No. 85 Squadron’s Hurricane pilot Richard Lee. he was awarded the DFC and DSO for his service, just a couple months before he was shot down over the English Channel on 18/8/1940, at age 23, sadly never to be seen again.

details under the cut -

Richard Hugh Anthony Lee was born in London in 1917 (the exact date or month is unknown). Growing up, he went to Charterhouse School.

On September 1935 he joined RAF Cranwell as a Flight Cadet, and graduated in July 1937. He was posted to Debden on June 1, 1938 to join no.85 Squadron at its reformation. He flew Gloster Gladiator biplanes to begin with, before no.85 was re-equipped with Hawker Hurricane Mk1s.

No.85 sqn. Was posted in France to protect cross-channel convoys. On November 21, 1939, while on patrol over Boulogne, Flight Lieutenant ‘Dickie’ Lee scored the squadron’s first victory when he successfully attacked a Heinkel 111 which crashed into the channel and burst into flames. This also scored the Squadron’s first accolade as he was awarded a DFC on March 8, 1940 “for outstanding brilliance and efficiency”

Not much happened over the winter. That was to change, however, when on May 10, 1940, the sound of Anti Aircraft guns and Luftwaffe planes filled the air. No. 85 squadron immediately jumped into action, and within a few minutes, one section of “A” flight, and one section of “B” flight were up in the air. Lee was leading B flight with Flying Officer Derek Allen and Pilot Officer Patrick Woods-Scawen flying as his numbers 2 and 3 respectively. the section attacked a Henschel 126, and managed to severely damage the aircraft, leaving two of its crew wounded.

Later that morning, Lee was flying Hurricane L1779 into combat, leading his section again. They engaged a Junkers-88 at about 15,000 feet. His combat report reads: “after being sighted E/A dived to a very low height. i could only overhaul from astern very slowly. From 500 yards to 700 yards the enemy rear gunner fired continuously. I fired short bursts and finished ammunition closing to 200 yards. No apparent results except black smoke from one engine. My own aircraft shot badly.”

Later that evening Lee shared in the destruction of a Ju-86 with his section. Lee was the first to open fire and set the enemy’s starboard engine on fire. When they landed, ground crew found that he had fired 50 rounds from each of his eight Browning machine guns during the engagement.

on 11/5/1940, the squadron was back in the thick of it. however, this time after a busy morning patrol, Allen and Woods-Scawen returned without their section leader. Richard Lee was missing. He’d been flying Hurricane N2388, code marked ‘VY-R’ over Maastricht when he engaged a Dornier 17P at approximately 1300 hours. His aircraft had been hit by Anti Aircraft fire and he bailed out of his aircraft slightly wounded. Parachuting down, he landed in a field, where he spotted a local man passing by. He asked the man which direction he should travel to get to the Belgian tanks that were nearby. He took off in the direction, only to find out that they were, in fact, German. Lucky for him, his uniform was concealed underneath a smock or overcoat he had acquired. He was believed to be a peasant and was locked into a barn with some other refugees. Thinking quick, he climbed up to a window and noticed a ladder perched beneath it, and promptly climbed out, walked several miles, and hitched a ride with some Belgians before returning to his unit the very next day. The squadron’s diarist reported that “11/5/40. Eight E/A were shot down today. Flight Lieutenant R.H.A Lee failed to return from the offensive patrol covering the advance of the BEF over the Tongres-Maastricht Section – he was reported last seen on a Dornier’s tail at about 2,000 ft.”

On May 22, No. 85 squadron started to return to Debden to re-equip and reform, and Lee was transferred to No. 56 Squadron. The next day the squadron engaged enemy aircraft over St. Omer while patrolling Manston to Dunkirk. he expended all his ammunition in the dogfight that ensued between the Hurricanes and the 109s, before his starboard wing was badly hit. He broke off and returned to Manston unharmed, and aircraft deemed repairable.

On May 27, he flew another offensive patrol from Manston with the Squadron, flying Hurricane P3311. On this occasion he was shot down by Messerschmitt 109s during an attack on Henschel 111s. he ditched his aircraft in the sea and was fished out of the water and taken ashore an hour later.

On May 31, Lee was awarded the DSO. The London Gazette published the following: “Flight Lieutenant Richard Hugh Anthony Lee, D.F.C. (33208) this officer has displayed great ability as a leader and intense desire to engage the enemy. On one occasion he continued to attack an enemy aircraft after his companion had been shot down, and his own machine hit in many places. His section shot down a Dornier 215 in flames one evening in May, and another in the course of engagement the next day. In his last engagement, he was seen at 200 feet at the tail of a Junkers 89, being subjected to intense fire from the enemy occupied territory. This officer escaped from behind the German lines after being arrested and upheld the highest traditions of the Service.”

In June, he returned to No. 85 squadron, under Squadron Leader Peter Townsend. His experience was called upon to help bring the new recruits upto scratch before the squadron was again ready for operational flying.

On June 26, Richard Lee and his close friend Gerald Lewis flew to an investiture where Lee received his DSO and DFC for his service.

Lee’s reputation as a daring and aggressive fighter pilot was quickly spreading around the air force. Peter Townsend’s good friend Flight Lieutenant John Simpson wrote a letter to his intelligence officer, after hearing about the exploits of Richard Lee.

Simpson, who also coincidentally often flew with Patrick Woods-Scawen’s younger brother Tony, wrote “I hear that Dickie Lee has done wonders. You see how these boys, who were always looked upon as being the naughty ones, are doing so well. They needed a war to convince the old gentlemen at Whitehall. Do you remember that Dickie was almost given his bowler hat for low flying? The same low flying has apparently stood him in good stead.” (apparently he had flown through an open barn, but i have no way of confirming or denying that)

In Hector Bolitho’s book Combat Report published in 1943, he wrote of an afternoon spent with Lee, Townsend and Simpson. “Peter Townsend and Dickie Lee had been posted to an aerodrome a few miles from the house… in the early summer, John and I went out to find them… we found Peter and Dickie and took them back to the house. Dickie followed the car on a hellish motor bicycle.

It was a pleasant enough afternoon and we lay on the lawn, the four of us, with a bowl of ice, a bottle of gin, some tonic water and four glasses, and talked the world away. All three, looked older. Both Dickie and Peter had been shot down and a certain solemnity seemed to have touched them. Dickie had changed more than others.

We used to call him Dopey in the old days because he always fell asleep if the conversation took a serious turn. He was already a hero and in most newspapers there had been photographs of him receiving his decorations from the King. The long hell in France had left creases at the corners of his sleepy eyes. But he would have none of our attempts at war talk. He said that he had a date with a blonde in Saffron Walden and that he could not stay very long.

Dickie’s taste in blondes was not always reassuring to his friends, but he was obviously more concerned with his date than with our efforts to make him talk about how he has won the DFC and DSO on his tunic. I remember when he stood to go I noticed a hole in the leg of his trousers where a bullet had gone through without touching his skin.

I suppose that Peter and John and I were a bit pensive, being the older ones, so Dickie yawned and said ‘Well, I must get cracking’ he made one gesture to sentiment before he went. On the day that was declared he left his favourite pictures with me… before his squadron flew off to France.

They were photographs of friends, of aircraft, and one of a spaniel. He asked me for them, so I brought them down from the attic and he flew off to his blonde with them, piled before him on the screeching, violent motor bicycle.”

August 18, 1940 “the Hardest Day” of course, was when Dickie was lost. Flying as Blue 1 in Hurricane P2923 ‘VY-R’ during this patrol, he was last seen by Squadron Leader Townsend and Flying Officer Arthur Gowers ten miles north-east of Foulness Point chasing Bf 109s out across the Channel.

In Townsend’s book Duel of Eagles he wrote the following of Lee’s last action: “Come back, Dicky,’ I called but he was drawing away. Again and again I called, but he kept on. It was useless to chase Huns out to sea; they would be back again the next day. Something had gotten into Dicky and there was no stopping him. We were both low on fuel and I was out of ammunition. There was only one thing to do: turn back”

Like several others, he was gone too soon. Neither his aircraft nor his body were ever recovered. and aside from these mentions, and a few documents, and acknowledgement on the Runnymede Memorial, Panel 6, there isn’t much about him out there. there’s really not much one can do about that either, other than remember, and keep them alive in our thoughts; those who never returned, whose names faded into obscurity.

Source