It took a five-hour drive in the "damned metal cans" in order to get to where they had to go. C squadron had 17 tanks to spread around the town of Artlenburg, which was close to the border with the GDR and one of the approaches towards Hamburg. Finding proper cover was not an easy task in pasturelands next to the Elbe, especially now, during winter when all the trees were bare, C squadron had to look out for the bushes that were still scattered around and make good use of their camo nets. "Zouden we nu die bevroren grond moeten uitgraven?", Hendrik said as he looked out if his view ports, only seeing a few scattered bushes. "Of zouden we achter die berm kunnen staan? ""We zouden achter die berm kunnen gaan staan. Scheelt ook weer graafwerk. Maar ik heb het vage idee dat 'ie te hoog is." David mused. "... Henny. Kom eens hier. Zouden we hierover heen kunnen vuren?" "De enige manier om daar achter te komen is om er te gaan staan.", Hennie said. "Quintis, kun je even achter die berm gaan staan? Aan de westkant." Being the only one who couldn't look outside, Tom turned towards them. "Volgens mij vriest het niet, dus als het nodig is zouden we kunnen graven." "Neemt niet weg dat het daarbuiten koud is. Als het even kan ga ik liever niet in de kou staan graven." Sylvian replied. Quintis, meanwhile, silently obeyed his orders - with the ever present smile - and parked the tank next to the berm. Hennie then turned the turret around a bit, and the barrel up and down. "Nee, dit is juist te laag. Er is veel te weinig dekking hierzo. We kunnen net zo goed in die akker gaan staan." "Rij een stuk onroerend goed in en kampeer in een raamkozijn. Da's dekking en schutting zat, toch?", said Tom. "Ja, en we zijn ook niets. Slecht idee. Die bosjes, dus. Graven. Kut." Tom looked at him with an expression that signalled someone just pissed in his oatmeal. "Pleur op! Ik ga niet van de kou lopen verteren!" "Als er iets is waar ik een grotere hekel aan heb dan kou, is het wel lekgeschoten worden door een stel Russen." Quintis butted in. The gunner fell silent, spoke "Teringtyfus", opened the hatch and jumped out into the cold darkness. Hendrik's sense of duty had him follow, but before he did that he tapped Quintis on the back. "Help jij mee? Dan kan David op de radio blijven" "Ik heb liever dat 'ie de tank weg kan zetten als we beslopen worden of iets dergelijks." Sylvian said, Althought the words were condescending, Hendrik spoke in a friendly, inquisitive, and respectful tone. "Heb je het gelul op de radio niet gehoord? De Russen die zijn er pas over een dag. Die worden kennelijk helemaal platgebombardeerd in hun logistiek." "... Dat scheelt. Quintis, d'r uit dan maar." Sylvian said. The driver grumbled, and wriggled himself out of his seat. "Ik zie geen flikker", Hendrik complained as he grabbed the shovels. "Zeg, jongens, zou een van ons niet de omwonenden moeten waarschuwen? Ik zie nog allemaal auto's...." "Lijkt mij dat dat al gedaan is." Quintis said. "En anders zorgen die MPs d'r wel voor. Gewoon graven.", Tom said. "Ja, gewoon graven", said Hendrik. The three began digging a hole for the Tanks in which it could get in a hull-down position, minimizing its profile but retaining a line of fire on the target. While it wasn't freezing, the ground was difficult to break open, but after getting used to it they kept on digging, with Hennie and Tom complaining about how they had to execute orders. As they dug, it started becoming lighter outside, but there was no sight of the sun. Taking a break to roll a cigarette, Tommie looked at the farmhouse nearby and saw a light switching on in the window and a man looking out. "Krijg toch tieten...JOHNNY JORDAAN! JE HAD GELIJK, LUL!" It drew Hendrik out and he looked on as the old farmer came walking towards the first of the three tanks that were digging in on his property - Curtis. "Hé, David! Jij spreekt toch Duits? Er staat hier een ouwe taaie die wat van je moet!" "Een nukubu. Geweldig." Sylvian muttered as he lifted himself up out of the turret hatch, in all his white-haired, eyeliner-adorned glory. The farmer started talking to Thomas, angrily asking him what was going on. "Jij ook de blafkanker", he calmly said as Sylvian approached him. "Ik versta d'r geen kloot van, jij wel?" Sylvian's response? ''Digging in''. In German, of course. The farmer was annoyed, but calm. He's had experience with military drills. "When will you leave?", he asked. ''As soon as command actually lets us leave.'' "Don't you have a timetable for these drills?" ''Not this particular one. Very realistic drill.'' "Right. Where should we go?" ''... One moment. Hé, wat moet ik doen? Hij vraagt waar 'ie heen moet.'' Hendrik stopped digging and looked up. "Moet je 'm niet vertellen dat dit NONEX is? Het lijkt me niet slim om 'm hier te houden." ''Lijkt me ook niet, nee, maar waar moet ik 'm heen sturen?'' "Naar familie zo ver mogelijk in het westen. Als 'ie niet voorbij Münster komt moet 'ie de Bundeswehr opzoeken. Gok ik." "That seems rather extreme" ''Like I said, very realistic drill.'' Hendrik listened to it and looked up, stressed. "Kein übenung!" Sylvian quickly shushed him. ''... In fact, so realistic we're going to be shot at soon.'' The farmer was nonplussed, not realising the gravity of this information" "...Did he just say this /isn't/ a drill?" ''Yes, he did. I'd prefer not to hae told you, but this is not a drill. Therefore, it's in your own interest to leave for a safe place.'' The old man looked like a deer in the headlights. "O-okay...", he said as he went back. Hendrik didn't look up. "Gewoon zeggen waar het op staat, kom je het verste mee." ''Over het algemeen raken ze volledig in paniek. Deze toevallig niet.'' "Hij zal wel een jaartje of veertig, vijftig terug in gesloten formatie wandeltochtjes in het buitenland hebben gehouden. Dan heeft 'ie ervaring hebben met Russen die z'n land in komen razen." ''Da's waar. Hé, ben ik de enige die de ironie van deze situatie inziet?'' "Waar doel je nu op?" ''Jaartje of 40 terug zaten de Duitsers in ons land, nu zitten wij in in hun land.'' Hendrik chuckled. "Weet je, da's best geinig. Alleen waren we toen geen vriendjes." "Nee, /wij/ niet nee.", Tom said with a grin on his face. ''Best wel raar, als je erover nadenkt. Hoe staat het met het graven?'', Sylvian inquired. Tom took a gander. "We moeten 'm nog wat uitdiepen." Hendrik looked at Tom. "Wat bedoel je, 'Wij'?" "Nou kijk, toen de mariniers bij ons op de maasbruggen die moffen de strot afbeten stonden ze in Amsterdam keurig met de rechterarm op vijf-en-veertig graden gestrekt te kijken wat een mooie wagens die Duitsers wel niet hadden!" "Zout toch eens op, eikel dat je d'r bent" ''Stop met bekvechten, jullie, en ga graven zodat we dat ding kunnen parkeren en de frituurbak tevoorschijn kunnen halen.'' "Oké, goed, maar jij moet wel die radio in de gaten houden!", said Tom as he looked at the farmhouse, where an elderly couple and their grandchildren were loading a hippie van full of their personal belongings. "Moet je die bus eens zien", he said. "Best koosjer", said Hendrik. "Maar laten we even nog onze rug er in stoppen" ''Die zitten nog vast in de jaren '60. Luisteren waarschijnlijk nog naar Jimi of The Beatles of zo.'' Sylvian said as he wandered back to the tin can. The radio chatter indicated that the KLu was flying sorties at an incredible rate, and claimed to have shot down a Tu-22 Blackjack off the coast of Groningen with an F-104. By some miracle. More relevant were the reports of troop movements in the area and of an engagement near Mölln. Shit was hitting the fan at break-neck speed, and 20 minutes of digging later the three outside produced a Leopard 2-sized hole. "Hé, Sylvian! We zijn klaar!" ''Mooi. Stap in. Tijd om dit ding te parkeren.'' The two didn't wait. Hendrik ran in as Tom quickly made chips for the crew. They had their breakfast and continued waiting for an hour until shells started pounding. Artillery barrage. The first stage of a Warsaw Pact attack. This could last for days, but fortunately the Leopards were oblivious to internal damage from high explosives, even on a direct hit. Equating the situation with heavy rain, Curtis' crew made coffee and tried to make the best of the day. --- [b]November 9th[/b] the squadron commander's excited voice came through. The first T-72s had been spotted and were in firing distance. Hendrik now sat up, peering through his gunsights, waiting to open the hunt. On the bridge he saw one himself. Leading a convoy of them, he was eager to shoot. "Niet schieten", Sylvian broke his concentration by saying that. "Je moet wachten tot 'ie de brug bijna af is. Zet je de rest vast." "Briljant plan", Hendrik said, as he kept following the first one. It was about to roll off the bridge..."Tijd om de Schepper gedag te zeggen", Hendrik muttered to himself as he pulled the trigger. The shell flew towards the T-72 in no-time, penetrating and setting it on fire. The Leopards surrounding them then opened up and lit the convoy up like New Years'. All the tanks on the bridge were quickly disposed of, and the ones on the east bank of the canal scrambled for cover, some not lucky enough to make it. C squadron quickly reported First Contact to the Battalion HQ, where Van de Kamp rolled a heavy Van Nelle and reported this groundbreaking incident to the surrounding units. [hider=Dialog] Do we have to dig out the frozen ground? Or could we hide behind the berm? We could get behind the berm. Saves us some digging. But I think it's too high...Hennie, get over here. Think we could fire over that? The only way to find out is to stand behind it. Quintis, could you get on the west side of the berm? I don't think it's freezing, so we could dig if necessary. Doesn't take away that it's cold out there. If possible, I'd rather not get outside. No, this is too low. Much too little cover in here. We may as well park in the meadow. Drive into some real estate and get behind the window sill. Cover and concealment enough, right? Yep. And we're nothing. Bad idea. It's the bushes. Dig. Asshat. Fuck off, I'm not going to rot in the cold! If there's something I hate more than cold, it's being perforated by a bunch of Russians. Fucking fuck You coming? David can stay on the radio. I'd rather he stays in the tank, so we can drive it away. Haven't you heard the radio? The Russians won't be here until tomorrow. They're being bombed flat in their logistics. That's good. Go out then, Quintis. Can't see shit, sir. Hey boys, shouldn't one of us warn the civvies? I see cars everywhere I think that's done with And otherwise the MPs will take care of it. Just dig. Yeah, just dig I'll be fucked...JOHNNY JORDAAN! YOU WERE RIGHT, FUCKER! "Hey, David. Didn't you speak German? There's a geezer who wants to speak to you" A civvie. Great. You get fucked too, mate. I can't understand him for shit, can you?" ... One moment. Hey, what should I do? He's asking where to go. Shouldn't you tell him this is NONEX? He shouldn't stay here. I figured, but where should I send him? To family as far west as possible. If he doesn't pass Münster, he should find the Bundeswehr. I guess. .. Just say it like it is, you get the furthest with that. In general they panic. By some miracle, this one didn't. Forty or fifty years ago, he was probably having foreign hiking vacations in a neat closed formation. Gives him some experience with Russians thundering into his country. True. Hey, am I the only one who sees the irony in this? What do you mean? A year or forty ago the German were in our country. Now we're in theirs. It's quite funny. But then we weren't friends. No, /we/ weren't. Pretty strange if you think about it. How's the digging? We should deepen it What do you mean, 'we'? You see, when the Marines on the Maasbruggen were biting the Krauts' throats off, in Amsterdam they were lining the roads with their arms stretched at forty-five degrees, looking at how beautiful the German cars were. Fuck off, you dickhead you. Stop the bitchfight. Go dig this out so we can park and get the deep-fryer. Okay, good. But you should watch that radio! ... Look at that van! That's Kosher. But let's put our backs into this. They're probably stuck in the 60s listening to Jimi or the Beatles or something. Hey Sylvian, we're done! Good, get in. Time to park this. Don't shoot. Wait until he almost leaves the bridge. You'll pin the rest. Brilliant plan...Time to meet the Creator. [/hider]