The sound of the Round Table-class landing ship in motion was a part of the cacophony that assaulted Maddy's ears, even with her tankers' helmet on, with its' ear protection. The churning of its' engines, the crash of waves against the hull, and the shouting voices of men and women all mingled with the sounds of distant battle that were growing closer.
She stood close to her mount, the light sandy-coloured, hulking shape of her EE-T2 Osorio MBT on the vehicle deck of the ship and lined up with the rest of her units' vehicles, an oddball assortment of tanks and armoured fighting vehicles, their crews standing by to go right into action straight off the ship.
Hopefully, the preliminary bombardment of naval guns, missiles, and airstrikes would have softened up the Iranian beach they'd be rolling onto enough that they wouldn't meet too much resistance; but every historical account of an amphibious landing like this suggested that it would never be quite that easy.
As if to emphasise the point, the buzz of helicopter rotors interrupted the thought, and she glanced up, shielding her eyes as a formation of attack helicopters flew overhead, heading for the beach, one of them launching missiles on plumes of white smoke at some unseen target.
As she looked back down, Magpie waved from the turret hatch of the tank and pointed to his wrist, tapping it and nodding to the open hatch.
Sighing a sharp breath, Maddie briskly crossed the pitching deck, just as the autocannons at the front of the ship opened up in stuttering, rattling bursts of fire. She climbed up and slid into the commanders' position, plugging her communication leads into the tank and toggling onto the crew circuit.
"Genie, wind it up. Magpie, Leaky, stand by. Button down as soon as the doors open; we're going up the beach as covered as we can get".
A chorus of 'yes m'am's' followed, and the tank's engine came to life a moment after with a throaty rumble and growl. Maddy changed channels, switching to the inter-tank channel for the unit.
"Drop your cocks and grab your socks, boys and girls. We're about to hit the beach, and I want to hit the ground running as soon as those doors open and the ramp comes down. Move up the beach and hit any targets that present themselves. Remember; our objective is to eliminate any opposition, and push into Naserabad. Troops will be following and moving up with us, and we have air support. But we're fighting the ISL on their home turf - and they don't like tourists".
She stopped as the ship rang with the rattle and clatter of ricochets hitting the outer hull, and the sound of the engines changed, along with the grind of the hull driving against the shallow bottom as they approached the beach. She exchanged a glance with Magpie, the loader grimacing as he moved down inside the turret, pulling his hatch closed with a clang. Yelling from above called out they'd hit the beach, as the ship juddered and shook, and then she followed suit, ducking into the hatch and dogging it tight, the sound from outside muffled and cut off, replaced by the comparatively claustrophobic interior of the turret and her outside view that of monitors and periscopes as the doors at the bow cracked open with a rumble of hydraulics, and the ramp came down with a grind of metal. Ricochets bounced off of the tanks' hull almost immediately, and Maddy gave the order to move out as soon as the ramp came down. The tracks found purchase in the sand as soon as the Osorio rolled off the ramp, wading through the shallows. Further up the beach, among the low, scrubby vegetation above the tideline, tracer fire lashed out from low structures. Further back, muzzle flashes boomed and the ripping canvas sound of falling shells was heard, albeit muffled by the sounds of the tank from inside.
At some point, this beach had been somewhat picturesque; part of Chabahar bay, a quiet area of residential towns and domestic utilities. But in the ISL's paranoia, it had been fortified with hastily-built and emplaced bunkers, pill-boxes and firing positions, concertina wire, and crude tank tank traps and defences.
From her limited view, Maddy couldn't see much, but knew that more vehicles were supposed to be landing from other ships, disgorging their precious cargoes of armour and vehicles, while other amphibious IFVs and APCs waded ashore under their own power.
Maddy pressed her eyes to the gunsight as the hull rang to the sound of small-arms fire, grimacing as she heard the sound. Time to get into the game, she thought, before calling out the target. A squat, regular grey shape among the greenish-brown brush further up the beach, that spewed tracers in their direction; probably a light or heavy machine-gun.
"Gunner; target! Heavy weapons position at -" she checked again "- two o'clock, one hundred meters! Load HE!"
There was the quick flurry of efficient movement as Magpie swung through the motions, the shell clanging into the breech of the 120mm gun.
"Loaded!"
"Send it!"
"On the waaaay!" yelled Leaky, and the breech recoiled into the turret with a THUMP and the acrid smell of spent propellant, the casing clattering and clanging to the floor of the turret basket.
"All units, fire at will!" Maddy called over the inter-tank circuit as they rolled up the beach, and a plume of angry, explosive flame billowed from the firing position as it fell silent.
@Massasauga, @PrinceAlexus, @AvaP, @Foster, @Smike
She stood close to her mount, the light sandy-coloured, hulking shape of her EE-T2 Osorio MBT on the vehicle deck of the ship and lined up with the rest of her units' vehicles, an oddball assortment of tanks and armoured fighting vehicles, their crews standing by to go right into action straight off the ship.
Hopefully, the preliminary bombardment of naval guns, missiles, and airstrikes would have softened up the Iranian beach they'd be rolling onto enough that they wouldn't meet too much resistance; but every historical account of an amphibious landing like this suggested that it would never be quite that easy.
As if to emphasise the point, the buzz of helicopter rotors interrupted the thought, and she glanced up, shielding her eyes as a formation of attack helicopters flew overhead, heading for the beach, one of them launching missiles on plumes of white smoke at some unseen target.
As she looked back down, Magpie waved from the turret hatch of the tank and pointed to his wrist, tapping it and nodding to the open hatch.
Sighing a sharp breath, Maddie briskly crossed the pitching deck, just as the autocannons at the front of the ship opened up in stuttering, rattling bursts of fire. She climbed up and slid into the commanders' position, plugging her communication leads into the tank and toggling onto the crew circuit.
"Genie, wind it up. Magpie, Leaky, stand by. Button down as soon as the doors open; we're going up the beach as covered as we can get".
A chorus of 'yes m'am's' followed, and the tank's engine came to life a moment after with a throaty rumble and growl. Maddy changed channels, switching to the inter-tank channel for the unit.
"Drop your cocks and grab your socks, boys and girls. We're about to hit the beach, and I want to hit the ground running as soon as those doors open and the ramp comes down. Move up the beach and hit any targets that present themselves. Remember; our objective is to eliminate any opposition, and push into Naserabad. Troops will be following and moving up with us, and we have air support. But we're fighting the ISL on their home turf - and they don't like tourists".
She stopped as the ship rang with the rattle and clatter of ricochets hitting the outer hull, and the sound of the engines changed, along with the grind of the hull driving against the shallow bottom as they approached the beach. She exchanged a glance with Magpie, the loader grimacing as he moved down inside the turret, pulling his hatch closed with a clang. Yelling from above called out they'd hit the beach, as the ship juddered and shook, and then she followed suit, ducking into the hatch and dogging it tight, the sound from outside muffled and cut off, replaced by the comparatively claustrophobic interior of the turret and her outside view that of monitors and periscopes as the doors at the bow cracked open with a rumble of hydraulics, and the ramp came down with a grind of metal. Ricochets bounced off of the tanks' hull almost immediately, and Maddy gave the order to move out as soon as the ramp came down. The tracks found purchase in the sand as soon as the Osorio rolled off the ramp, wading through the shallows. Further up the beach, among the low, scrubby vegetation above the tideline, tracer fire lashed out from low structures. Further back, muzzle flashes boomed and the ripping canvas sound of falling shells was heard, albeit muffled by the sounds of the tank from inside.
At some point, this beach had been somewhat picturesque; part of Chabahar bay, a quiet area of residential towns and domestic utilities. But in the ISL's paranoia, it had been fortified with hastily-built and emplaced bunkers, pill-boxes and firing positions, concertina wire, and crude tank tank traps and defences.
From her limited view, Maddy couldn't see much, but knew that more vehicles were supposed to be landing from other ships, disgorging their precious cargoes of armour and vehicles, while other amphibious IFVs and APCs waded ashore under their own power.
Maddy pressed her eyes to the gunsight as the hull rang to the sound of small-arms fire, grimacing as she heard the sound. Time to get into the game, she thought, before calling out the target. A squat, regular grey shape among the greenish-brown brush further up the beach, that spewed tracers in their direction; probably a light or heavy machine-gun.
"Gunner; target! Heavy weapons position at -" she checked again "- two o'clock, one hundred meters! Load HE!"
There was the quick flurry of efficient movement as Magpie swung through the motions, the shell clanging into the breech of the 120mm gun.
"Loaded!"
"Send it!"
"On the waaaay!" yelled Leaky, and the breech recoiled into the turret with a THUMP and the acrid smell of spent propellant, the casing clattering and clanging to the floor of the turret basket.
"All units, fire at will!" Maddy called over the inter-tank circuit as they rolled up the beach, and a plume of angry, explosive flame billowed from the firing position as it fell silent.
@Massasauga, @PrinceAlexus, @AvaP, @Foster, @Smike