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--two hours until assault--

“Listen up, grunts!" I yell within the briefing room. At attention, every NCO under my command turns, ready for the news. “The brass deemed it time we break this stalemate. Our new toys should be up to the task."

“Permission to speak, sir!" a Sergeant pipes up. “Granted, Pillmen,"I respond.

“We've yet to get acquainted with the new beauts, sir. How does Command expect us to break hostile resistance with a week's worth of rushed training on them?" the sergeant remarks.

“I can not answer as to what Command expects, but I have faith these Volters should be well protected by the infantry, provided we keep them safe as well," I counter, “Besides, if we don't attempt this, we may miss all the glory, if the Syndicate forces are there at all." That brought on a few hearty laughs, but many were still adamant. “Now, if our recon is correct, and the code-breakers finally grasped the enemy comms, we should be able to deploy the majority of our forces among these hills, overlooking the field. Most of Platoon 1 will be assigned here, along with the companies from the 'Hellhounds.' Platoon 2 with squads 3 and 4 will be spread among the rest of the divisions, two tanks per company."

“If all goes according to plan, we may even write history." This alone silenced the last doubts, many seemed content to be remembered. “Alright, men, time to earn our pay!"

As the NCO's filed out, I breathed a sigh of relief. Briefings are not my strong suit, but I must contend with them, much to my discomfort. Besides that, The orders are clear, and if the support is indeed inbound we should be done with this business before I must do more.

I walk out of the hall and towards the motor pool, where the newest additions sit idle. These Volters, as the engineers back home called them, boasted a powerful 105 millimetre cannon, rare even among the usual armor they give us, as well as a twin front mounted machine guns, a coax machine gun attached to the turret, diesel engines,100 millimetres of armour all around to top it all off, a beautiful sight to see.Even with this impressive array, it stays low to the ground, providing a harder to hit silhouette on the field.

The only issues my crews have found lie within the speed, but knowing their role in the coming assault, it will suffice. I approach the mechanics tending to my own, wondering where the rest of my crew has gone off to. “How goes maintenance, Ares?" I ask, “and where is my crew?"

Ares responds, “Sir, this machine is ready and waiting, and your crew is in the mess."

“Don't get too enthusiastic there Ares, it's only me."

“I know, sir, but the last few commanders have me all riled up, as well as a certain Corporal. ' Why can't I have this, why can't I use that, what the hell am I supposed to do in the event of this,' I'm just a mechanic here. Go ask the logistics about that, I'll repair shit if you fuck up."

During this tirade, I let my mask fall, and chuckle alongside him, knowing this to be just a way of relieving tension for Ares. “What exactly happened? Did Dai get into the recreational stores again? I swear, I have got to keep a bell on him."

“Funny, just because he's one of the cat's around here doesn't mean that wasn't in poor taste," Ares retorts, “besides, your one to talk, what with your-" I interrupt him with a gesture.

“Please do not mention that, I'd prefer it kept under wraps. I trust you and my crew, but otherwise, I advise caution," I declare in hushed whispers.

“Sorry, keep forgetting that's supposed to be classified."

“I prefer to be honest with those closest to me before engagements, otherwise, this remains unspoken. Good to know everything is in order, now i must round up my crew. Take care Ares, see you after the assault."

“Whip 'em good, Commander." we shake hands and I depart.

Upon entering the mess hall, I narrowly avoid a tray colliding next to my head. Turning towards the offender, I am greeted with the howling laughter of my crew, resting before the coming battle, bar two who are in the midst of their typical brawls. Lt. Isaac, my 2ic and gunner, was wrestling with Sgt. Lien, my co-driver, the wolf and fox attempting to best each other, as Cpl. Dai, my driver, bet with my final crew member, Cpl. Patterson. Sharply, I whistle to get their attention, in which Isaac uses the distraction to his advantage.

The dark brown wolf pinned the grey & white fox to the ground, Dark blue and Jade eyes respectively turned towards the sound. The Gray furred tiger with black stripes pulled out a few bills and handed them to the black furred wolf, still enjoying his meal, before turning his golden eyes in regards to me, the amber eyes of Patterson following along.

“Why is it that every time I look for you guys, this seems to be how I find you? You two are fighting, and you are betting on which'll win this time?" I say, smirking.

“You know I don't instigate this Commander, just Lien here," says Isaac, still pinning the fox, “ always seems to believe he is better."

“To be honest, I may have done a bit of encouraging this time," pipes Lewis, “as well as Patterson." To his right, Patterson shrugs, “Wanted nothing but to enjoy my meal without Lewis pestering me, but I digress, did enjoy the show."

“And to think I chose you sorry lot for my crew," I joked, in which Isaac releases Lien, growling a bit. I glare at him, the growl ceasing, “Sorry, Alph- I mean, commander." Nodding an acknowledgement to his apology, and ignoring his close slip up.

“Regardless, it's about time we get moving, don't want to leave all the fun to the footsloggers, now do we?"

“No, sir!" in unison they shout. “Mount up," I cheer, as they dash from the room to the motor pool. Swiftly, I follow behind, disregarding the hairs standing on the back of my neck.

--10 minutes until assault--

The Volters rumbled along on the rain soaked soil, engines purring smoothly, almost soothing in a way. The two mile stretch of land considered our deployment zone was alive with activity. Infantry prepped their equipment one last time, as officers gave last minute adjustments to troop disposition, the final touches enacted before commencing.

My crew performed our own, leaving a count of 20 shells for the main gun, 2 boxes of 100 rounds each in the turret for the coax, 4 more below for the twin mount. Patterson fidgeted with the gun's mechanisms to ensure it didn't jam in the thick of battle, Lien doing likewise to the coax. Isaac busied himself with the rangefinder, writing down estimated ranges from our launch point, as Dai checked his controls.I occupied the last minutes with radio, ensuring all went swiftly.

Commanders, sound off," I transmit tersely. A chorus of acknowledgements from the platoons. “This is Lt. Colonel Anders to Division Command, my boys are in position, awaiting the signal."

“Acknowledged, Lt. Colonel," came the response from the general, “Good hunting."

Nothing left to do but wait.

A minute passed, and the signal rose, the sun slipping slowly over the horizon to our backs. A few seconds passed and Platoon 1 began pelting the enemy positions, all the while platoon 2 advanced with the infantry. To every tank, half a company, roughly 50 men, surrounded in an offensive formation, spread out to minimise casualties. For 10 solid minutes we progressed, the Syndicates barely firing back, those few rounds fired bounced off the Volters' hulls. Occasionally an infantryman would falter and drop, silenced and forgotten in the heat of the moment.

1st platoon began its advance, alongside the “Hellhounds," the soldiers giving a loud howl as they joined the fight. Down about 12 rounds, we conserved the rest for better targets, while the Twin mount and coax made short work of the few enemies we found. Five more minutes pass, and the feeling of unease returns. This is too easy, I thought, the Syndicates are barely providing resistance, as if-

I never finished the thought as the opening rounds of enemy artillery landed amongst the fray, felling tanks and infantry alike. Within seconds, thousands died in visceral sprays of gore, Volters lit up like torches, some providing more carnage as they brewed up, the crews burning to death swiftly, I prayed. A round came crashing down, knocking off our tracks. I did not hesitate.

“Out," I ordered, as we disembarked in time for a final round to strike us center mass, the last few rounds igniting, the tank now a raging fireball. The force from the explosion knocked me to the ground and the world turned black.

--Some time later--

“How did this happen?"

I lay, slightly buried, in the mud strewn fields, pocketed by vast quantities of shell holes, the stench of fire and ash permeating the landscape. Nearby lie the wrecks of my platoon's Volters, smoldering forms twisted into obscene shapes. The bodies of comrades spilled out amongst wreckage and craters, hours before in jovial moods, now expressionless, cold. I shift slightly, looking for my crew among the bodies, but I see none, nor do I see any others alive in the field.

“Why?" I ask, knowing none can hear me, none to answer.