#artillery tractor

[awesome-casuallyfamouscollector]

Russian ATS-59G medium artillery tractor with broken windows and lights, Ukraine, 2023. Source: Naalsio26

[if-you-fan-a-fire]

""CRASH ACTION" FOR THE CANADIAN ARTILLERY," Windsor Star. May 1, 1943. Page 7. ---- ONE OF A SERIES OF ACTION PICTURES WITH CANADA'S MECHANIZED ARMY ---- "ENEMY TANKS ON RIGHT FLANK!" It's Crash Action for a Canadian gun crew. That means they've got to "draw quick" and shoot fast.

As the Field Artillery Tractor grinds to a two- wheel stop, the crew scrambles out and goes into action like the crack of a six-tongued whip. Down goes the platform. Gun and trailer swing into firing position. One man races to remove. breech and muzzle covers, as another sets the dial sight and depresses the gun. At the same instant, Number Four heaves the hand spike in place and swings the trail into position. While the auxiliary Tractor thunders up with reserve am- munition trailers, Gunners Five and Six prepare shells for the hungry breech of the big field piece. Smoothly the muzzle comes to bear on the target.

Less than 60 seconds after the Artillery Tractor's wheels skid to a stop, the gun is hurling 25-pound shells at enemy tanks. That's the kind of split- second timing and smooth teamwork which is winning world-wide respect for Canada's mechanized army. ***

Ford of Canada's 16,000 workers are proud to be represented on Canadian gun teams. The military vehicles which roll, by the thousand, from Final Testing Grounds at Windsor, Ontario, are the finest, sturdiest products which modern craftsmanship can provide. The Field Artillery Tractor is one of more than forty types of battle vehicles produced by Ford of Canada.

Rated by experts among the hat-trained, best-equipped striking force in all history-Canada can well be proud of the army representing her in the world-wide fight for freedom. Proud indeed is Ford of Canada that sturdy, Canadian-made vehicles carry these modern warriors into battle

FORD MOTOR COMPANY OF CANADA, LIMITED

LARGEST PRODUCERS OF MILITARY VEHICLES IN THE BRITISH EMPIRE

[dieselfutures]

BL 8-Inch Howitzer MK I-V

[cmdrfupa]

Love you a waffle lot, you know?

Hiromi Higuruma x Reader

Sfw, established relationship w/ soft king Hiromi. fluff with smoochin (so sprinkled nsfw if you squint)

Foodies and Goodies entry and also me dusting off the typewriter after almost 10 years of not writing a fic. Thank you @tsukimefuku for the inspo!

The sensation of the cold, wet air and the faint sound of rain awaken your senses. A rainstorm provides respite from a week of stress, anxiety, and fatigue as it welcomes you to a new day. The overcast sky is causing very little light to filter into your bedroom. You awaken to the sensation of cold, satiny sheets beneath your hands, only to find yourself alone in the vast bed. With a smile and a hint of grogginess, you realized that not even a rainy Saturday would keep Hiromi in bed past 10 am unless you physically held him down.” That man can’t stay still.”

When you look out the window to see the rain splattering over the glass, the smell hits your nostrils just in time. The chill of the outside air was making it slightly uncomfortable to stay in bed. Well. Uncomfortable to stay in bed alone.

Shuffling down the hall to the low-lit, sage-colored, sunflower-accented kitchen as your husband comes into view. Wearing a fitted knit tank top and pajama pants from a set you bought him years ago, he leaned against the kitchen counter. Dark hair was damp, and wispy strands were sticking together at the nape of his neck. Eagle eyes watch the waffle maker as if it’ll walk off if he even thinks about looking away.

He notices your outline at the doorway and turns to you, holding out his hand for you to come to him.

“The waffle maker? You’re pulling out the heavy artillery. Need any help?”

With a slight shake of his head, the corners of his mouth turn upright.

“Was going to bring it to you. You didn’t have to get up, darling.” He spoke warmly. Fingers hooked with his, the smell of his aftershave commingling with the scent of the dripping coffee nearby.

“I was getting cold.” He brings you closer on impulse, wrapping his arms around you and rubbing your back with a delicate touch. His embrace is familiar and inviting as he kisses your head. His steady breath encouraged a sense of cozy contentment.

“You looked quite comfortable. It would’ve been a crime to wake you. So I figured I’d make a simple breakfast we could enjoy in bed."

“You spoil me, Mr.Higuruma.”

“Oh, just you wait. I even have the berry syrup you love to have with them.”

Eyebrows raised now with just a hint of excitement. “What on earth am I going to do with you?” The ding of the waffle maker brings you two apart. He gives your forehead a soft peck before you reach the kitchen nook in the corner.

“Love me forever, of course.”

"And if you think that’s bad, she didn’t even update us. Just sent the files over to Nanami and left for her vacation.” His hand on your thigh, not keeping you from spilling your thoughts.

“Not even a concern about whether our workload was already maxing us out.” The golden brown waffles sat in front of you both, fragrant berry syrup dripping off the sides as you cut into the crispy cake, feeding another forkful to Hiromi, him happily receiving the food, chewing as you talked about the previous work day.

“I’m telling you, romi. The late nights because of her lack of care are becoming irksome. Either her boss gets her together, or I’m tying Mei Mei to a tractor-trailer by that stupid braid”. Hiromi observed you as you grabbed your coffee, the first sip taken with closed eyes. 4-second sip followed by a quick lick of your lip to catch the vanilla-flavored trickle. He always waited to make sure he had your coffee perfect before taking a sip of his own. Noticing his gaze, you move the mug from your lips.

“Honey, you okay?”

“Of course, darling.” He kissed your neck, then lips, the taste of the sweet syrup lingering. “Mei is being her usual half-ass self while you and Nanami work to improve her look.” Eyes now on you, he thumbs at your lips. “ You deserve the opportunity to tie her to that tractor-trailer.” The rich tone of his voice, followed by his lingering gaze, kept you from immediately replying. You instead smirk, sipping your coffee again.

“You know what I’m going to say, so I won’t say it.” That simpered smile you’ve loved from the beginning tugs at his cheeks, “But… whenever you decide to put the salary job down…”

“I know, Hiro..” the unyielding taps of rain on the glass filled the comfortable silence. Taking your fork and having a bite of the waffle, eyes closing for a moment. “Mmm”

His lips met yours in a soft kiss, his hands reaching to bring your legs to his lap.

“I don’t like seeing you stressed. Leave that type of nonsensical energy for me to work through.”

“And what do I do when you are overly stressed, my dear husband?” Reaching to glide the tip of your finger down his aquiline nose. A sigh of contentment huffed softly under your always tender touch.

The pitter-patter of the rain hitting the glass is soothing. droplets slide down the window in a slow, methodical movement, colliding with one another and forming larger droplets that glide down faster.

Your view through the rain-streaked window was now slightly obstructed, adding to the coziness of being inside. Hiromi forks another piece of waffle into his mouth, returning his attention to you and pushing the plate away.

“This. Simply be near me.” Dexterous fingers grip your thigh as his loving gaze approaches your face. “Be near me and maybe make the waffles next time. They don't taste like yours.”

“Nutmeg. And just a spill of heavy cream.”

“Nutmeg. You beautiful genius.”

The sound of the rain fills the air, the steady rhythm of the drops building a barrier around you, separating you from the world for the weekend. Whispers of affection and conversation as your forever coffee date share what he wants to do on your rainy weekend inside.

[askvectorprime]

Dear Vector Prime,

As I’m sure you’re aware, there are universes where the Ark and the Nemesis are Transformers themselves. Has there ever been a case of… forbidden love between the two ships?

Dear Ship Shipper,

In Maximal legend, it is said that long ago, their ancestors created an immense Ark, to carry their people to safe haven on an alien world. Their hated enemies, whose descendants would one day become the Predacons, gave chase in their own vessel, forged to be her equal, her Nemesis.

For her robot mode, they gave this Nemesis vicious talons, capable of raking through layers of hull plating, to expose the crew to the cold night. They molded her with a sleek and arrowlike profile, to be near-invisible in pursuit. They loaded her with artillery, until her every deck bristled with cannons and torpedoes, a single broadside enough to atomize any warship. And they installed a powerful tractor beam, which locked the Ark in a death grip as their warriors boarded, fighting their way to the bridge to send the vessel on a collision course with the planet below. But when this task was done, and they returned to their own ship, they found that this tractor beam would not release its hold.

For all their wicked designs, they made a single miscalculation: as to power her engines, the energy source they chose was none other than the Heart of Cybertron. From this unique and enigmatic artifact, there came the concept of a self. In giving the ship life, they had given her feeling. But was her refusal to deactivate the tractor beam borne of hatred for her creators, for all their cruelty, a desire to see them burnt up and buried? Or was it an act of love, for her counterpart, whom upon meeting, she felt she could not bear to live without?

That is the quandary the Maximals are left with: to call into question the fundamental nature of the foe, and what truly lies in their Heart. Even with my unique ability to step into history, and see the ships as they fall, as they crash, as they lie dormant, as they reawaken, and as they take to the stars once more... I have no especial insight I can offer as to how these beings, greater than any one of us, truly felt about each other.

[asktheguardponies]

The IST or Infantry Support Tank is a part of the Mustang Defense Forces tank doctrine, where ISTs are attached to scouts or motor infantry units and provide organic fire support with HEAT, HE/FRAG, and APDS rounds to deal with soft skinned vehicles or IFVs, and hardened targets such as pillboxes, entrenched fighting positions or machine gun nests.

Main armament: 105mm low-recoil rifled tank gun. Secondary armament: 7.62mm coaxial machine gun. Commander's armament: remote control 7.62mm machine gun

The IST is not intended for frontal engagements with modern MBTs, but the 105mm main gun on the IST can pierce the sides and back of the Equestrian-produced MBT Caballus Mk3 or otherwise achieve mission kill by disabling critical components.

Clydesdale's Oreworks & Mfg. have supplied IST models for the former National Security Council and the successor organization, the Mustang Defense Forces.

Some 250 ISTs have been exported to Maretonia where terrain restricts the use of heavy armor. They are also in service with Trotsylvanian self-propelled artillery units where the 990 pattern gun tractor is type classified as an assault gun.

[enriquemzn262]

Recovered WW2 tanks and vehicles.

Pictured: T-34 747(r) (captured german version), BT-7, S-65 Stalinets artillery tractor and unknown.

[captain-price-unofficially]

Austro-Daimler 2-wheel artillery tractor. WWI

[cuprohastes]

So how's that going?

Putin: We will invade liberate Ukraine. Ukraine: No Everyone else: No Russia: Deploy The Worlds Biggest military Ukraine: [Apparently the guy from Ukraine's version of Saturday Night Live who is inexplicably in charge] "I don't need a lift, I need ammo." ✨Ukraine Gained a level in Bad Ass✨ ✨Ukraine took perk: Tractors can now harvest Tanks✨ Russia: We'll be done by the end of the week. Ukraine: [Sinks Russian Flagship in a land battle] [Deploys Tractors successfully] [Drones fucking everywhere] [Calls the Russian Soldier's mothers and tells them their kids have been naughty] Russia: ... how is this somehow a valid military tactic? Memo to the brave soldier of the Russian Army -- A gentle reminder to stop picking up souvenirs from Chornobyl, even if they do keep you warm at night, on account of also you will melt. Ukraine: Hello NATO, password is Swordfish, May we come in, we brought memes. NATO: Yes, what fine people you are, we especially enjoyed all the wheat and that time your president played piano with his dick on TV. Can we offer you tea, coffee, Molotovs, arm your grannies, provide you with some HIMARS to display your memes on...? Ukraine: Yes, thankyou much appreciated. Also check this out, we wired a Steam Deck to a gun. Plays Portal 2, goes BRRRRR. Russian Survivors: We were in the forest and we heard this little voice go 'ArE yOu Still TheRe' and then all my comrades did a dance and their blood fell out. 48 hours ago I was a background dancer for Little Big and now I have a Youtube Video of how to fire an AK47 and no bullets and I am being shot at by a box full of memes. Ukraine: Lol git gud skrub. Putin: OK, deploy the Nazis The Wagner Group. Is many fine people. Wagner Group: OK we need ammo, supplies, money, and support and money and for you to not look very closely at what we are doing with POWs, the people we are liberating and what we are doing with our cocks/flamethrowers/knives/guns/sharps sticks/and what this guy's necklace of human ears is made of. Ukraine: [Stares in Drone] Chap with the Nazi tattoo, five rounds rapid. LOL GET REKT Wagner Group: Damn these meddling kids. Where's our money and ammo and money and supplies (And money)? Putin: Counter offer - none of these things. Wagner Group: OK but you owe us the money, you get that right? Putin: See that Wagner Group? They can have a little bit of being shelled with artillery as a treat. Wagner Group: New plan. We are going to make Putin eat his own dick. Putin: You and what army? Wagner Group: Funny you should bring that up. ✨Wagner Group unlocked achievement: "Look at me. Look at me: We're the Army Now✨ Wagner Group: War-crimes With Ukraine is over. We are War-crimes with Russia now. [🪆]⬅️🛻🚚🛻🚛🛻🚚🚛...[🌻] Ukraine: 🍿 NATO: 🍿 The Internet: 🍿 The Orcas: 🐋🐳🍿 That uncontacted tribe:🍿

[militarymodeller]

Nr.287, The Raupenschlepper OST or RSO.

Raupenschlepper Ost (German: "Caterpillar Tractor East", more commonly abbreviated to RSO) was a fully tracked, lightweight vehicle used by the Wehrmacht in World War II. It was conceived in response to the poor performance of wheeled and half-tracked vehicles in the mud and snow during the Wehrmacht's first autumn and winter on the Soviet Front.

The RSO was a contemporary with somewhat similar Allied full-tracked small artillery tractors in use in other armies (such as the Soviet STZ-5 "Stalingradets", and the U.S. Army's M4 Tractor), mostly originated from the pre-war light to medium series of Vickers artillery tractors. This RSO kit was from "Das Werk" and I ran into serious trouble because of a cabin which broken and warped. It took me hours to correct the warping and it still shows.

[leeenuu]

A general view of Bakhmut, the site of heavy battles with Russian troops in the Donetsk region, Ukraine, Friday, April 21, 2023. (Iryna Rybakova via AP)

People save icons as they clear the rubble after a Russian rocket ruined an Orthodox church in rocket attack on Easter night, a crater left by the rocket in the foreground, in Komyshuvakha, Zaporizhzhia region, Ukraine, early hours Sunday, April 16, 2023. (AP Photo/Kateryna Klochko)

A local resident looks at his home, damaged by a Russian rocket attack in Sloviansk, Donetsk region, Ukraine, Friday, April 14, 2023. The death toll from Russian missile strikes on eastern Ukraine's city of Sloviansk rose to 11 Saturday as rescue crews tried to reach people trapped in the rubble of an apartment building, Ukrainian authorities said. (Roman Chop via AP)

Players of a women's football team from Mariupol pose for photo before a Ukrainian championship match against Shakhtar in Kyiv, Ukraine, Tuesday, April 18, 2023. After their city was devastated and captured by Russian forces, the team from Mariupol rose from the ashes when they gathered a new team in Kyiv. They continue to play to remind everyone that despite the occupation that will soon hit one year, Mariupol remains a Ukrainian city. (AP Photo/Efrem Lukatsky)

A destroyed apartment building on Tuesday, April 18, 2023 in Izyum, in eastern Ukraine, where 54 people died during a bombardment last year. (Mauricio Lima/The New York Times)

Discarded equipment and rifles from wounded and dead Ukrainian soldiers piled at a medical evacuation compound on the outskirts of Chasiv Yar, in eastern Ukraine, on Wednesday, April 19, 2023. (Mauricio Lima/The New York Times)

Thousands of parts of artillery shells, missile fragments and non-guided rockets that have hit buildings throughout Kharkiv since the beginning of the war, in an industrial field on Monday, April 17, 2023. (Mauricio Lima/The New York Times)

Mourners attending the funeral of Mykola Zhezherun, a Ukrainian soldier who died in the eastern Luhansk region, on Thursday, April 20, 2023 in Kyiv. (Brendan Hoffman/The New York Times)

A shell from a heavy multiple launch rocket system is seen if front of a tractor during a sowing of lentils in a field in Zaporizhzhia region, Ukraine, Monday, April 18, 2023. (REUTERS/Stringer)

[awesome-casuallyfamouscollector]

Destroyed KAMAZ 8x8 artillery tractor belonging to Russia's 856th Self-Propelled Artillery Regiment, 144th Guards Motorised Rifle Division, 20th Guards Combined Arms Army, Western Military District, Ukraine, July 14,2023. Source: Naalsio26

[tybarious-ii]

"Shown here is, arguably, the 'original' Jeep: the prototype Bantam Reconnaissance Car. Notice the scalloped cutouts for crew access and the curved fenders and separate protruding headlights without brush guards. All these features that eliminated when the first 75 pre-production units were built. The massive 4x4 beside it is a 5-ton prototype artillery tractor built by Oshkosh."

source

[albrightnow]

Confession

"Two minutes out."

Sarah closes her eyes, and breathes. Her hands grip the controls around her. She breathes recycled air, feels the hardsuit around her, feels her jacket over the top of it all. She's done this thousands of times. Thousands of flights. She's a pilot. This isn't anything new. The darkness behind her eyelids comforts her, grounding her in this moment. She's always home here.

"Check your weapons, I expect every one of you to be loaded when we drop in!"

Her eyes open. She hasn't ever done this before. She's flown thousands of flights before, done close to two thousand blinkspace jumps. But she's never done this. The controls feel alien in her hands as she uses them to manipulate the right hand of her mech, raising the rifle in its hands to check the weapon load. Her readouts confirm it has a full magazine and no jams, but she has to check around her HUD to find those readouts.

There's nothing instinctive about this. Nothing familiar.

"One minute out!"

She looks up and sees their drill sergeant. Drill Sergeant Percival. Percival. No wonder he prefers his callsign. If Sarah was called Percival, she'd call herself Confessor too.

"Stick close to me, keep comms clear except for things we actually need to hear, and follow your training! Our objective is town Echo, currently in enemy hands." He sounds like every stereotype of a hardass sergeant she's ever seen in the vids and she wonders if he practises in the mirror.

The light in the dropship turns red.

"DROP!"

The floor beneath them opens, air revealed where there was solid ground a moment before, and ten mechs slam down to the ground from thirty feet into the air.

The servos in her assault mech's legs take the brunt of the impact, and the retrorockets they'd all been fitted dampen the rest, but Sarah can still feel the landing ringing in her teeth as she tries to get her bearings.

Confessor is the first to rise - or maybe he's just easier to see with the bulk of his Saladin standing tall above the sand and dirt they kicked up with their landing. He turns towards something, and Sarah follows his gaze. There. The town. It already looks like it's been through hell, with half the buildings reduced to rubble already. It's a small settlement. She doubts they even have a printer that can make anything bigger than a tractor. So why are they fighting over it?

The question doesn't have a chance to get answered, because Sarah hears the dull thud-thud-thud of gunfire, sees muzzle flashes, and sees Confessor's warp shield burst into life. Space distorts around the bullets as they impact the Saladin's shields, curving like looking at the accretion disk around a black hole. Finally, something familiar.

"Move up!"

Two words are all it takes to bring her to life. To bring all of them to life.

Eight assault mechs and an engineer surge forwards alongside him. Two to Sarah's right raise their rifles and squeeze off a few rounds, but they're not in range yet. Sarah remembers enough of her training to know not to waste her ammo at these sorts of ranges.

Whatever the enemy are armed with, they clearly don't have many long-ranged weapons either. A few rounds hit the Saladin's shields, a few others ping off the armour of the mechs around her, but nothing seems to be connecting. No artillery, no lasers, no freaky fucking HORUS nightmares she's heard about.

And all too soon, the gap is closed. They're about to enter their effective range, and Sarah feels a lot less safe about that. She can see three targets on different rooftops, one more in the door of a garage.

"Guns 1 to 3, take the left roof!" There's a ping on their HUD indicating the roof in question. "4 to 6, Engineer Thorn, take the one in front of us! I've got the third rooftop. Guns 7 and 8, clear out that garage!" The orders come quickly. Gun 7. That's her.

"Move!"

Confessor raises his weapon, firing off a volley of thermobaric micro-missiles which blast into the leftmost rooftop.

There's no room to argue. No room to dispute his calls. Just room to do what he says. So, she breaks right, depressing the button she knows activates her mech's boost function. Her scanners let her know Gun 8 is hot on her tail. He wants his callsign to be Radar. She doesn't remember his real name, but she's pretty sure it starts with a J.

Sarah raises her rifle and fires a volley of rounds at the mech in the garage doorway, feeling her mech's left arm absorb the recoil, and it...retreats. It retreats into the garage. She really, really doesn't like that.

She slams into the wall, using it as cover and receiving the haptic feedback that the metal buckled a little. Not the sturdiest building.

Radar, Gun-8, takes position on the other side of the door. Her comms fizzle into life as his mech's glowing 'face' looks towards her. "Okay. Okay, okay. Knell, you take the left side, I'll take the right." Knell. That's what they've been calling her. She'd introduced herself as NL-422 Sarah Albright, just out of bad habit, and it had stuck. NL-422 became NL, became Knell. So now she's stuck with it.

"Radar. Watch your scanners and please don't shoot me," she replies, trying to keep her tone light. It doesn't really come across, but he laughs anyway. It's a stress-laugh, the sort people make when they're holding a live explosive or their ship is crashing.

"Three. Two. One. Mark!"

She takes the left.

The garage is only big enough to service maybe three Kilimanjaros. There's familiar-looking stations for lifting frames, like old-school car lifters but sized for mechs. But the open area inside the garage is empty. There's no sign of mechs, no sign of infantry. She advances slowly, rifle raised. The roof feels too low, the walls feel too close. She feels like she's jumping at shadows for every step she takes.

She can hear gunfire in the distance, but none inside the actual building. Radar hasn't found anyone yet either. There's what look like two offices in the back of the building. Their ceiling height will be the same as the rest of the structure - that's big enough to hide a mech in. Sarah takes a breath, hardsuit gloves tightening their grip on her controls as she steps into the first office and swings her gun in a wide arc to check her blind spot.

 It's...clear. There's just an old fridge and a kitchenette.

If it's clear, that means either they're in Radar's side of the building, or--

Gunfire roars behind her. Armour-piercing rounds punch through the plaster and drywall separating the two offices from one another, then punch through her mech with about the same amount of effort. The whole mech lurches with the impacts.

Haptic feedback has her feel the first shot hit her mech's left arm, blowing it off completely, the second shot blast through the lower torso, and the third cut into the left leg. If she'd taken one more step into the room, they would've cut through her mech's core - and cockpit. As it is, they just completely incapacitated her.

She feels the leg give out, barely able to stand as its servos scream in complaint and alarms blare. She's been shot at. She needs to react. She needs to react, not just sit here waiting for death.

She raises her rifle with her mech's one remaining arm, turning as best as she can with a barely-working leg and opening fire through the plasterwork. Without the left arm's recoil compensation, she feels the weapon fire shake through her entire frame. She's firing blind, and her mech's aim assist couldn't compensate for this recoil even if she knew where she was shooting.

Her gun clicks empty.

She doesn't know what to do.

She doesn't know what to do.

She doesn't know what she's fighting for. She doesn't know why she's here. She isn't from this planet and doesn't have a fucking clue what this civil war is all about. For all she knows, the rebels might have the right idea.

...But she always knew this was a possibility.

Sarah closes her eyes. She's always home here, in the dark. She knew, going into this, that life insurance would pay better. She'd come to terms with that. Accepted it. She didn't want to throw her life away, but if she's going to die here, she's okay with that.

...No she fucking isn't.

She doesn't want to die.

She hammers her thumb against the button to activate her mech's boost. It's in the same place as her old ship's thrusters. The mech surges forwards, dragging its dying leg behind it and slamming through the swiss-cheesed drywall.

The two mechs hiding in the other office don't have facial expressions, but she likes to imagine they were surprised.

She closes the distance, swinging her rifle around and slamming it into the first mech's head before it can even react. Again. And again.

The second mech draws its combat knife, and she swings at it instead. The rifle in her mech's hand shatters, alloy shards the length of ski poles perforating the room.

She doesn't want to die.

Sarah draws her own mech's knife, stepping forwards and driving it home. The composite blade carves through the mech's armour like it's nothing, and it falls still.

Through the alarms sounding in her own mech, she hears the survivor trying to climb to its feet.

She grabs the combat knife from the limp hand of the cored mech in front of her, turns, and throws it.

It's instinct. It's all instinct.

But the blade flies true, and strikes the mech's head. A glancing blow, but enough to mess with its optical systems. It buys her time. Time to step forwards and kick it in the chest with her mech's bad leg.

It falls, and she draws its own combat knife to press against the cockpit as she pins it down on the ground.

Then...she stops.

The blood roaring in her eyes subsides.

She's gasping for breath. Alarms are blaring. In front of her, there's a downed assault mech. It's the exact same model she's piloting. The same rifle lies fallen by their side, the same combat knife is in her hands now. She doesn't have a clue what this civil war is all about. For all she knows, the rebels might have the right idea. For all she knows, they might have the wrong one. But here, now, they're the same.

Sarah lets the blade scratch its way down the mech's body, from the cockpit to the core, and plunges the blade deep. The lights dim. The cockpit opens. The pilot scrambles away, unarmed and in a hardsuit just like hers.

When she staggers her way back into the afternoon sun of a pointless town on a planet she doesn't know anything about, there's a different knife holstered in her mech's scabbard and a different assault rifle held in the mech's one remaining arm. They're all the same model anyway.

___

AFTER-ACTION REPORT

CONDUCTOR: Your recruits performed at an above-average level, Sergeant Percival. Zero fatalities, and only one allied mech destroyed.

CONFESSOR: They held themselves together.

CONDUCTOR: Combat diagnostics are complete, and their new designations have been confirmed. Gun-2's accuracy rating warrants placement in a sniper frame. Gun-3 took it upon herself to provide overwatch; use your discretion to determine which frame would best benefit from that. Gun-7's lethality in close range was an order of magnitude higher than expected.

CONFESSOR: Gun-7 panicked and fought for her life. Beating a mech apart with your empty rifle isn't evidence of-

CONDUCTOR: Her combat effectiveness would be wasted in anything other than a close combat frame. Issue her a Ronin.

CONDUCTOR: Do you have something to say, Sergeant?

CONFESSOR: No, sir.

AFTER-ACTION REPORT CONCLUDES

[squirmydads-creations]

Mantic Games Marauders, which they now just refer to as Orks. When Mantic first started producing Marauders for their sci-fi lines they didn’t call them Orks. But GW lost a big lawsuit against a little company called Chapterhouse over the use of generic names, like Space Marine, and now Mantic appears to be free to call their Marauders what they’d intended them to be in the first place. I like the name Marauder better so when I use that name I’m talking about Mantic’s models, not GW’s, as they are still Space Orks. The ones I’m painting up are plastics from their Deadzone game, I’m still not happy with the plastic. The sculpts are a bit odd too; normal sized heads (ok), weird gangly legs (?), and oversized torsos with big arms (???). Weird, but mostly okay, makes for odd poses though. I’m painting up my Marauders in the same color schemes as my Blood Axe infiltrators to beef up their numbers.

I wasn’t paying attention when I assembled the flamer troops and their fuel hoses curl way out to the side before connecting to their fuel tanks on their backs. I thought it looked cool, and then found after I started painting them that their is a big indentation in their bellies, apparently to accommodate the hose wrapping around them? Dunno, I like my way better. Also from Mantic Games Deadzone is this Gretchin artillery, in Bad Moons colors because he's not trying to be sneaky in his tractor.

[ghastspidergwen]

:3

As you know, I like jeeps, and I also like trucks, and unfortunately or rather fortunately that lead me down the rabbit hole of jeep trucks

But I'm not here to talk about the Comanche (MJs), the old SJ (or J series) gladiators, or my beloved CJ-8 scrambler.

I'm here to talk about the 10 ton trucks :]

These guys:

Now I'm still not entirely sure how it's name was coined as I'm like 90% it's a classification instead of being the name of a singular truck, with these trucks being more like tractors than modern day trucks (besides big rigs) and the trucks also weighed a lot more than 10 tons

(It's name is even weirder when you consider that it's cousin the five quarter ton was named that due to it's payload rating)

The trucks I know the most about are the M123A1C Truck Tractor and the M125 which had a massive V8 (785 cu in or 12.9L) with about 300hp and a torque of around around 6300 pound per inch if my math is right.

These guys were known for hauling tank and artillery parts :]

This one is hauling some construction equipment!

Now more is known about the M123 but from my understanding they were essentially the same truck but with slightly different purposes and slight improvements

All in all a very impressive truck, but it gets better! Now this beauty is a little more than 9ft wide, about 23ft long, and a whopping 9ft with a few inches height wise with some 14x24 tires (about 53 inches or just below 4 and a half feet).

Now earlier I mentioned that the ten ton truck classification was a little misleading, this beauty was actually about 32.5k lbs or roughly 16 tons on its own without any cargo, but with cargo (depending on if you were on or off road) it was 60,000 lbs off road and 65,000 lbs on road at a speed of just over 40mph.

:]

Now the really interesting part was how it's engine worked, I already talked a little bit about it's specs but not the really fun stuff.

It had steering brakes! That meant you could choose what side of the rig you wanted to apply the breaks to! Very useful for turning in bad conditions and surviving spin outs.

It also had Williams Air Brakes! Which blocked a part of the exhaust pipe, which is normally a bad thing but since it was an insanely heavy truck and a stick shift, you needed the engine to slow down so that you could easily shift into a different gear.

The transmission itself weighed about 1,500 lbs and was a stick shift 5 speed and what made it extra interesting was that it has 2 lube systems instead of the typical one you see in any other rig, unfortunately it's transmission system despite being really interesting kinda sucked and had a major leaking issue and it's weird plumbing/wiring didn't really help it at all.

Sadly due to these things being fuckin huge and also made in the 50s and only sold to the US military, there's barely any of em around anymore and you're not going to see any on the roads

Id probably rank this as my favorite big rig but my favorite truck still has to be my beloved CJ-8<3

Thank you for letting me ramble<3

this is exciting what I asked for, thank you very much!