Hey guys I’m back to HaM! It’s been a very long while since I actually posted HaM so just as a refresher it’s just after the war ended and nearly all the living machines have been sent into France to be rounded up and kept together-except for Marion and her crew.
Time seemed to blend together after the war. The German army was under control of Allied leadership and mixed units were patrolling and sorting out the various Wehrmacht heer groups and getting them home or redeploying them to other areas. This included Hansel and Marion. They were used at a checkpoint to check IDs, direct traffic, and make sure there were no problems. Then they were tasked with assisting in demilitarizing areas where there had been military buildup and fortification. Afterwards they had been put more towards Berlin along the line that separated the Soviet army and the American army. Tensions were high at this point; American and Soviet generals had been talking about warring with the other for total control; the Soviets wanted to spread their ideals and so did the Americans. With their experiences, many of the Russian deserters chose America over their motherland because of the welcome embrace they received and the much freer lifestyle. While they were not free the machines did at least have some roaming privileges and social time. They also were told what intent America had for them. They were test subjects and specimens of study and further study was to be conducted within the American shores, where it would be much more difficult for Russia to learn of the breathers. It took six months for the negotiations to be fully completed and then another year for everything to be set up and readied for the departure.
The machines negotiated their human spouses to accompany them and to be treated as a married couple, together wherever, but Marion, being an instrument of the American tank core and not a subject of the science department, did not have these negotiating privileges. At the end of the war Marion’s crew only consisted of herself, Hansel, and Meats. After the war, they stayed together until the following November, where Meats was let go from active service and he was given passport home in Frankfurt. It was a long and seldom goodbye between the three of them. After that it was just Hansel and Marion sitting in their hull down foxhole. They were prepared for a Russian assault along with about two-hundred and fifty other soldiers and ten tanks and bunches of AT guns and mortars. The machine folk were all heartbroken when General Patton died, and especially his old third army. It was an American tragedy that he died; a hero to his country, much like his esteemed German counterpart Field Marshal Erwin Rommel. While Hansel and Marion were still together and grateful that they survived the war they were undecided on the outcome. They were happy the war was over and that their friends were alive but at the same time they lost, their country was in shambles, and the genocide that their leaders started had blackened the image of their proud home.
Hansel couldn’t see himself living in a divided country, where one half wanted to invade the other to ‘liberate and unify’ the other. He loved his home and his family, loved his country, but couldn’t stand to see what a divided future would lead his beloved country to. Hansel grew more narcissistic by the month and this made Marion upset, she couldn’t stand to see him so negative and bleak about the future. She took matters into her own hands and wrote to the command requesting a different deployment in some other country. Perhaps a station in France to help rebuild or a convoy escort in Belgium, she didn’t care. Repeatedly she was denied by the command until one of the commanders griped to her old American Major.
He arranged her and Hansel to get some “R ‘n’ R” in northern France, just south of Juno beach. This helped Hansel’s state and he started to be more lively and optimistic. He had always shown compassion and relief towards Marion but not to others or in a general mood until France. He would frequently think back to the things he did during the war, things he was not too proud of. He took the lives of his enemies with a certain grain of salt when it happened but he didn’t allow it to change him; as he knew they wouldn’t hesitate to end his life. But their lives still seemed to plague him, and only Marion seemed to assuage these demons completely. She forbade him from drinking, and he had long decreed to never smoke, so Marion was his only relief. And he was her only relief.
They spent another whole year in France and again and again they’d wake the other in a fit of nightmares, or cry to the other, or suddenly start spilling their guts about regret and death. Hansel’s father had told him stories of “Shell Shock” and rumors of what causes it, Hansel denied having it for he was physically perfect. But every now and then his mind would linger and he’d swear he had gotten it, he was unlucky and damned enough to have Shell Shock. Marion thought the two of them had guilty conscious and that they only needed to let it out and help each other. They were both correct, they suffered from PTSD but only mildly, their lives were not dictated or wrecked by the war, but it followed them. They quickly found ways to help the other cope, and they stood by each other when the other needed help. Sometime in May, 1947, they applied for passports to America with help from Major Cahrmicheal and obtained them with Hansel’s connection to Joshua. Major Cahrmicheal set them up with a place in central Florida, somewhat near where the other machines had been sent.
The breathers agreed they didn’t want to deal with the ‘winter wrath’ where rapid temperature drop weakened their bodies. But with the desert not being a great place for big engines and complex mechanics, the second option of marsh was picked. While the land of south east America varied, it was sustainable for tracked vehicles. The vehicles were concentrated around a central hub area where tests could be conducted and the lab could be set up. All around it were plots of land with huge garages, the plots varied from 5 acres to 18 acres based on the vehicle’s size and abnormality from most road vehicles. They generally had about a two or three-mile drive to the hub, but Marion’s drive would be about twenty. There was an Army Air Core facility twenty-two miles from the hub that had fenced off twenty plus acres of land with a hard-packed concrete runway and a heavily reinforced hanger floor with sturdy and reenforced walls and ceilings for the hanger. It almost looked more like an armored warehouse. Adjacent and attached to the hanger was a two-story house that the members used. It was properly furnished, plumbed, and accommodated, but it was very bland. Once they had learned of their new home Hansel and Marion gathered addresses from their friends still in Germany and France, and spent some time with them before moving to the port that Peiper was targeting in the Ardennes offensive, the one where Marion changed sides. They were excited, very excited! New people, new life, new opportunities, America! The land of dreams! Because they were not a part of the science department Hansel and Marion had complete freedom, they were moving to America as veterans and as German civilians. Hansel packed Marion full of clothes, tools, knickknacks, memorabilia, books, some house utensils, and anything else they could fit and wanted. Hansel also was given permission to bring his car over, he was absolutely amazed at how pristine and perfect his car was when his old home wasn’t. It had only been in an alley a house down in a backlot the whole war, and now he had the chance to drive it more than across the neighborhood. It was a first model Adler 6 standard with the engine and transmission of the 1934 Adler 6 standard with four gears, he sold the old engine and transmission to a guy that wanted to make his own car and used that money as well as money from selling other useless trinkets to get the engine. He named his car Ava and kept it clean, shiny, and running. The body was a dark oak brown with a yellow-gold trim and white highlights. The interior was a lavish green with leather seats and balsa wood interior painted to look like Cherrywood. The gearshift knob was a bright red with a white band that connected to the long black shaft. As he drove his car back to Marion, it filled with his possessions, he looked back to when he was fixing up the car. He had dreams of taking all the pretty girls to the fields he crop dusted and showing them the land, or taking his lovely honey down to the river in the moonlight to spend the night. He dreamed of driving far off and seeing the world in this car.
And then war broke out.
Hansel eventually got back to Marion and showed her the car he built. A few days later their ship arrived, a merchant ship that made hundreds of voyages to Britain and America during the war, still painted in its blue, grey, and black stripes in a “dazzle” pattern. This is when Marion discovered her greatest fear; a fear more crippling than airplanes, more crippling than artillery: heights. She was lifted using four of her towing eyes and the whole time she was groaning, trembling, shivering, and nearly shrieking in fear. What’s worse is Hansel had to watch it all and could do nothing but try to yell over the machinery to calm her down. No matter how he yelled it was not soothing. One of the merchants said that it was normal for heavy machines that spend their lives latched onto the ground to have a fear of not being latched to the ground. He said every tank that he shipped did it. Marion’s eyes were clenched shut and she was trying to think of happier things, like the fun they had with Cindy, Whacker’s wise cracks, Hansel, a peaceful home. And before she knew it she felt pressure under her treads, she had been lowered into the ship’s belly. She took deep breaths and calmed down as sailors unhitched the cables from her eyes. Next, they loaded on the car and that’s when Hansel boarded the ship. He spent time with Marion and when the ship was towed and sent out to sea he stood on the deck and watched Europe disappear. He wondered if he’d ever see Europe again, if he’d ever have its soil beneath his feet, if he’d ever get to bring Marion with him if he could, it was very emotional for him. He watched the shoreline fade away, the cliffs and tall lighthouses fade away into the fog, shrink into the horizon, and soon all around was nothing but the choppy North Atlantic.
He thought of Rudolph then, he remembered going to Rudolph’s family back in Munich while getting his car. Rudolph was not picked up by the British. Rudolph was M.I.A./K.I.A. with his ship, the Bismarck. Hansel plucked a yellow flower that day from Rudolph’s garden and the family wrote prayers to him on a streamer tied around the stem. Hansel had that flower and tossed it into the waves, watching it slosh around and slowly disappear to the waves to be swallowed and welcomed by the Atlantic; just as his friend was. He started to cry then as he backed away from the rail and slumped against the wall sobbing, he remembered their last day together and just let it repeat in front of him again and again. Then he wondered what Rudolph’s last glimpse of Europe was, if it was as miserable and foggy as his own, or cheery, bright, and prideful. Hansel talked to himself as if he was talking to Rudolph again, he began spitting stories of basic training, then how it was training with the tanks. He spurred on about Russia and being wounded, then officer school and eventually how machines were alive. He talked about Marion, and Cindy, and Anton and Faust, about how his family was and how Munich was, he said the bar was still standing and recommended they go catch up more there. That was when he looked up from his lap out into the grey-blue world wholly believing that Rudolph was right there in front of him. It was a very harsh reality check. He completely let go and bawled his eyes out, cradling his legs against his chest. A senior sailor was passing by when he noticed Hansel’s distress.
“Was wrong, lad? Was got ye so teary?” It took Hansel some time to figure out what the heavy accent asked.
“Loss.” Hansel eventually spit out after much effort.
“Loss o yer home?”
“My friend.” The sailor bent over and sat next to Hansel, gripping Hansel’s shoulder with a rough leathery hand.
“How’d he die, son?”
“His ship,” e spat, “sank, not picked up.”
“Now hear me here, I been on six ships in this war alone, an tree in the last, all sank, ye hear? They all sank but I’m here ain’t I? Lady Luck has a weird way of working her magic, yer friend may be alive out there. He might be on a raft fishin’ right now o’ees tryna get home. What I learn’d is to trust yer gut, so son whatchyer gut say?” Hansel hesitated.
“I don’t know.”
“Keep yer head up son, till they give ye a body he ain’t dead.” That gave Hansel enough strength to pick his head up and say thank you, get back down to Marion, and vent the rest to her.
The voyage was uninteresting, nearly a week long of Hansel staying with Marion, sleeping on her, or in his car, getting chow and sharing some morsels with Marion, daydream about their future lives, and try their best to not get sick. Once their voyage had passed and Marion struggled through another crane lifting her up and on to a train they were good to go. Hansel had to drive his car shadowing the train from a port in Georgia down south to the middle of bumfuck nowhere across the way from the quiet little town of mapless journey. Hansel found out that the train station they arrived at was founded nearly a hundred year ago-and it still looked like absolutely fuck-all lived here. Still, this is where they were going to live and so Hansel led Marion down a dirt road, then another, and another, and another, until the tall barbed wire fence with a sign painted, in German, “Welcome breather!” was in front of them. Waiting for them was a man from the science lab twenty miles away to let them in, show them around, and the next day take them to the lab as requested by both Marion and the test subjects. They had just unpacked Marion when they were led up to the lab, they were very excited to reunite with all their old friends. Marion did see some trouble moving through the marsh but her low foot pressure made sure she didn’t sink deep into the marsh. She eventually pushed her way through the marshes and made the long journey to the lab. The gates were tall and the fences were barbed, with many reasons to keep people out and away from the fact that metal lived, but once they were inside the daunting facade was just that and the complex was very friendly.
Staff members were very friendly and had taken to the machines as people, but just like people they had stereotypes. None of the staff would dare say what they say around the machines or their human spouses in fear but they’d gossip to each other. Of course, the human spouses knew that there’d be a new form of racism, technically specism, but they did not let their loved ones know or let it get to them. The staff would judge the machines for their spouses, stereotype that they breed like rabbits, their only use is sex and murder, they are stupid and gullible. Easily used. Of course, most of it was not true, they were conceived and produced to be superb killing machines of war but they were smart, loved one another like family, and were finding new uses in a world without war. But the staff didn’t know that, or care for that, they did as people do and stereotype. Some of the soldiers that worked and served by them were appointed to the lab as guards and once they got wind of the talk they were furious. They had learned to love the machines, saw them as life savers and heroes, saw them as friends-brothers and sisters more like it, and despised the staff. The guards were the first to tell Hansel about the staff’s stereotypes. That didn’t matter to Hansel as he and Marion saw an unknown Tiger that looked like Swiss cheese.
Fin Ch 49
Feel free to ask any questions in the comments, also many parts of this chapter are purposefully rushed and sort of empty to convey just how blurred and meaningless the time was for the pair.
This is pretty much the final months of the war all in one chapter, time flies by for Hansel and Marion and now it’s the end.
Every night Marion cradled Hansel against her side as he slept or rested, his injury and near-death encounter shocked her more than it shocked him and from that moment on she regarded his safety as the most important thing in the world. Hansel didn’t mind the increase in attention, his experience showed him just how frail life was and how all of that poetic jargon was true: life is short so make it last. He stayed by her all of his recovery for her sake and in the meantime taught her how to write and expanded her reading ability, he also taught Cindy how to write in German–she wrote her good-bye letter in English and luckily Inbred can read English–and not just read like Zwei taught her. In turn Cindy taught both Marion and Hansel how to read and write what English she knew. Both coached the other how to be more fluent in their non-native language. Marion sort of stole Cindy away from Katelyn and Chuck again to Katelyn’s aggravation, Marion still was put to work at her old task but to a lesser quota and intensity. This all put together gave her time with Hansel and Cindy making her happy and kept her active and made her feel like she earns her keep.
In all reality Patton had it easier on fuel supply to keep the non-combating living tanks on the front instead of sending back where all the others were sent, so Chuck, Katelyn, Rosa, Marion, Tiger, Zwei, Cindy, Geoff, Griffin, Mini-Rommel and Kramia all kept up with the Third Army’s push for Berlin. And that they did, they’d get battle stories from Banker and Betty and the whole group of them-and a newly introduced Skip the M5 Stuart they heard of long, long ago and her secret lover Kyle. They kept their love quiet so they didn’t have to answer to the lab coats. Her and Betty hung out with the non-combatant breathers when they had time off but would occasionally slip away, no one thought any differently of their absence.
And that was life for them, days and days and days went on as the Allies pushed deeper and deeper into the Fatherland. Casualties were high and the war was bitter and cold with the dead and dying, that absolutely sickened Hansel and his German brothers-in-arms; seeing their homeland devastated, raped of resources and blown up for ‘defense’ by their own people nearly drove them mad. Every atrocity that someone accidentally mentioned nearby them angered them more. They longed to take back their homes but would also rather that the assault stopped there, that the guns were unloaded right there to leave the ammunition in the dirt and for all to leave and go home. But where was home? They didn’t know anymore. They didn’t know. One morning, recently after Hansel had fully recovered and the scar was the only mark of the wound, they weren’t ordered up. They weren’t ordered to move ammunition, they were told nothing. Concerned of super fanatical resistance Hansel went to the Major and asked what was going on.
“It seems our part is done.” He lit his pipe; it reminded Hansel of his Colonel’s pipe. “We reached the Elbe River and politics leaves the rest for the Russians.”
“No!” Hansel declared, he feared what Russia would do to Germany. “No we have to keep going! We can’t let the Russians have Germany, we have to take it!”
“You and Patton, both, my friend.” He took a long draw from his pipe and blew it to the wind. “To be frank I’m happy that we’re done. No more war for us. A lot of us get to go home, you, too. Maybe. You were from Munich, right? Don’t worry; it’ll all be over soon.” He grabbed Hansel’s shoulders and rocked it back and front. “Patton wanted to see you sometime tomorrow; he said to stop by his office-or jeep. Whichever one his ass is in.” Hansel broke away and went back to Marion. He told her about the Allied half at the river; Cindy wanted to see the river up close. Marion suggested they go see the river. Hansel, Whacker, Meats, Cindy, Marion, Mini-Rommel and Kramia all went to the river. They saw Russian and Americans in the river celebrating together, their meeting signaled their end in this war. There were German P.O.W.s nearby, too. They were beaten up very badly in bandages and wraps. All of their faces were a mix of pain, relief, dread and defeat. Whacker spotted some Russain tanks over on the other side moving unlike cold steel tanks, he did a little figuring and suppressed his fear for the Russians and went over with a curious Meats and excited group of Americans, Hansel and the breathers sat back; Cindy played in the river until Geoff came up, then they splashed each other.
Whacker was with Meats, who was talking and comparing muscles with a large Russian man equal in to his size, and Whacker would continuously glance over to the T-34 and the IS about twenty meters to his left. He was trying to think of something to say, he’s been able to flirt with women before no problem but he always had something to talk about, something like how Germany’s growing again or how family is doing or something inviting. Something they shared. He didn’t know a thing about the Russians. All he knew is what Kramia told him but that was how to win her over not spark up a conversation. Meats was stopped by this man because they were the strongest men around. What’s Whacker going to go up to the tanks and say? We’re all alive? Then that came to him, they were alive. Not like ‘hey you’re a breather’ but ‘you two made it to the end’ after all, they were rather obsolete models. He prayed not to offend them, he counted his blessings and asked for just one more, he tried to walk over but his mind was whispering ‘they can kill you with no effort’ and that made him shake in his boots. One of them had that 85 that had scarred him years ago. He gave himself a mental pep talk and forcefully walked over still shaking in his boots. He walked over as nonchalantly as he could, the IS caught him from the corner of her eye and shifted attention to him. As she turned towards him he shook even more, if it wasn’t for the spacious jacket and pants the two Russians would probably be laughing.
“Hello, how you?” The IS said in English. She saw the American outfit, her English had a very heavy accent, and while it is a mutual language that so far seemed that both knew decently, it wasn’t Whacker’s strong point. He figured it’d be his best bet.
“I am good, we all survived. I say that make us all good.” His English was better but obviously not perfect; luckily neither of the Russian tanks had talked to an actual American yet.
“I say so, yes.” The IS smiled at him, her voice confirmed that she was a female, the T-34 that she was previously talking to hasn’t spoken, they weren’t together so he guessed that it, too, was a female. “I am from forty-three, where do you from?”
“I go back to forty-four. Where do you come from?” He asked the T-34, it was scanning over him with its eyes. It was making him uncomfortable. He saw it adjust the handsaw on its chest and he caught a glimpse of a hole. An 88’s hole. He began to sweat nervously under his clothes and his pilot cap became itchy.
“Forty-two. I come from forty-two.” It was also a female. Whacker calmed down a little but the T-34 wouldn’t stop hard-staring at him.
“So what is you name?” The IS asked. “My name Shellproof.”
“My name’s Adam, I like your name.”
“Thank you.” They waited for the T-34 to say her name but nothing came, only a cold and hard stare. “Her name is Thirty-Four. Don’t think of her, usual she is not this way. She just is strange now.” Shellproof scowled at Thirty-Four and hit her hull disapprovingly.
“Why is she moody?”
“She can get worked up. She does not good with new persons. She has gone through tough time.” Shellproof looked to Thirty-Four and talked to her in Russian, all Whacker caught was ‘you go get’ and then he was lost.
“Da.” Thirty-Four backed up and left.
“You are not American, are you?” Shellproof asked bluntly, her stone gaze into his soul broke his composure.
“No, I’m not really American.” He began to break down and freak out. Was she going to kill him? Should he run? Should he get Meats? Shellproof moved to him fast and held his arms against his body.
“Calm! Calm. Be. Calm.” She stroked his leather cap with a tendril. “Let me tell you why she moody.”
“Okay, okay, why is she moody?”
“She was hit and raped by Tiger. She has boy named-”
“ADLER!” They heard Thirty-Four shout and both of them jumped, Shellproof instinctively pulled Whacker to her body to shield him from an angry Thirty-Four but instead it was an excited Adler, her son. He looked exactly like his mother only smaller and he was trying to look at Whacker. He was talking fast in Russian, Shellproof, with Whacker still against her treads, talked over him. Adler suddenly stopped bouncing around and bit his lip.
“He speak no any English. I can talk for both.” Shellproof said. Thirty-Four strolled over and hit Adler on the back of his turret while he was shooting off questions. He whined to his mom while she scolded him. She ‘hmph’d and he cuddled up to her. She wrapped her arm around his turret. He was nearly half her size. He finished his questions and from there Shellproof did her best to translate. They talked like this for a while then Adler looked at the P.O.W.s on the bridge nearby and pulled out a ball and left, Shellproof told Thirty-Four to just watch him and she did so.
Adler rushed over to two beaten and battered German soldiers. One was in bloody bandages from the hips up on his left side and bloody wraps covered the left side of his head including the eye, his left arm was in a sling. The man next to him was with crutches and was missing his leg beneath the right knee. Both also had various injuries but those described were major wounds that rendered them combat useless. They saw Adler approaching and they shimmied together and shivered. Adler looked at them with empathy and mercy; he took the ball in his hands and gave it to the German soldier. Adler’s outstretched arm held the little ball in his hand so gently and gracefully, he took the hand of the one legged soldier and put the ball in his hand. Adler looked at them and under his breath he said ‘danke’ and turned to leave when the German called out. “Sie möchten Ball spielen?” Adler happily nodded.
Thirty-Four crept up behind him and watched her son play, as strange as it was to see him play without her it was also rewarding in a way. She laid down on her belly and smiled at him, neither he nor the Germans saw her. She didn’t like Germans but given the three years to think she got past the blind and absolute hatred of all Germans. She simply smiled and watched her son play ball. Once dusk approached she went up to Adler and sent him away. Now the two soldiers were quivering with fear, they couldn’t run and there was no one to stop her; she was the angry tank that charged them two years ago. “Danke für den Ball.” She said calmly and respectively, handing them the ball. She turned and left them there with the other P.O.W.s being sent to the American camps. While she was watching Adler Shellproof and Whacker were talking a lot about themselves.
Fin Ch 46
Time passed on and Hansel and Marion were appointed to frontline service, their final test had begun. It was late February and by now the allied advance was moving as fast as the Sherman tank could advance, the opposition floundered. Hansel and Marion pitied the German defenders and were horrified by how much younger they started looking the further in they traveled. They began hearing terrifying reports from other areas about the desperation Germany was in and the two prayed that it was just miscommunication and not at all true. They refused to believe the reports; Hansel swore that they had too much honor and dignity to do such things. Every town and city they conquered began looking darker and darker and darker, the population was in ruin and the homes were unrecognizable. They saw German women whoring themselves out for food and water, that’s all they asked for was food and water. It mentally fucked with Hansel, Meats, Whacker and Banker, Marion understood that it was all they could do but still felt it wrong. Constantly Meats, Whacker, Banker and Hansel would split one of their rations between them and give the three others to the women and children.
The combat was hard on the Germans, both sides, but for Hansel and his German allies it hurt to pull the trigger, to give the command, to extinguish the life of their home nation. Nonetheless they knew what atrocities that the Wehrmacht were unknowingly fighting for and knew that those atrocities must be ended no matter the cost. Marion never had to worry about her front being penetrated, not even by her own kind, but the one thing she feared were the PanzerFausts, the ‘Tank Fist’ will rip through her side and melt Meats, Hansel, and Whacker alive until they die. She made it her best interest to befriend the infantry so that they’d look out for her and after a few Panthers were put down under Marion’s gun they did indeed watch her back. The infantry definitely looked out for her because she’s the one that they’d use to remove any hardened positions and the one not afraid to stick out and take a hit. The infantry eventually nicknamed her ‘Heavy Angel’ for saving their asses many times.
In early March Hansel, Marion, and their little crew were driving with Cindy moving up, they were more towards the back and there on they could play with Cindy again. They liked playing with her; she always comforted them and got their minds off the war. Something caught Marion’s eye and she glanced up but had to double take. The reports were true. It was outside a village, a village of maybe four houses and a barn and this was happening. Marion furiously shook Hansel and got his attention towards what she was looking at. Cindy was going to turn as well but Marion covered her eyes and held Cindy’s turret toward herself. By now the whole German crew was looking on at it. Not one dared to admit its truth.
“Oh my God!” Those were the words spoken by Marion in horror. There just outside of a village of four houses, dangling from tree limbs, were six people. Four were in badly fitted Wehrmacht uniforms and two were unmistakably women in dresses, they all had wooden boards hung around their necks. The boards said they didn’t want to fight for Hitler, for the Fatherland, that they were cowards and pigs and Jew sympathizers. There was a team of Americans cutting them down from the trees, as Marion drew closer they saw three ropes behind the American team. As Marion got even closer they saw that the Wehrmacht soldier they were cutting down couldn’t have been older than thirteen. The uniform next to him had long girlish hair and a petite face. The two women were maybe in their sixties. One of the Americans picked up a sign and hurriedly ran over to Marion and handed Whacker the board.
“Kill these bastards!” And with that he ran off. Whacker read the board and all the reports he denied could be true suddenly were true.
“I don’t want to live in this world anymore!” He solemnly spoke through quivering lips as tears ran down his face; he retreated to his little cubbie and drank from his flask crying. Marion looked at the board and realized just how much she couldn’t read. She passed it to Hansel who read it aloud in German so Cindy wouldn’t understand half of it.
‘THE SS WILL HANG ALL TRAITORS OF THE FATHERLAND JUST AS WE HAVE DONE WITH THESE PIG-DOGS!’
“What has this world come to?” Hansel tossed down the board; Marion seized it and chucked it as hard as she could into the woods. It hit a tree and broke to pieces. Marion radioed to Zwei to cover Geoff’s eyes for at least a mile. She did so to Marion’s tone of voice. That was their first taste of the horror. More followed the deeper they went into Germany, soon their reactions went from terror and horror and disgust to anger and rage and hatred. They absolutely hated the SS, their anger and rage would build and fester until they at last had a vent; an SS division was holding on to a town with fanatical spirit. They liked it when they were fanatical, there would be no retreat. Marion and her crew insisted that they spearhead into the town and their angry tones easily persuaded the American major to allow this. They sat back and turned on their megaphone they’d use to dissuade any conflict only this time they spoke freely.
“DEAR S S, WE HAVE SEEN YOUR WORK WITH ‘TRAITORS’ AND WE ARE NOT HAPPY. YOU HIDE BEHIND CHILDREN, YOU HIDE BEHIND WOMEN, AND YOU ARE ALL WORTHLESS WASTES OF GERMAN FLESH! MY GERMAN TANK AND MY GERMAN CREW WILL LOVE TEARING YOU TO BITS. WE WILL FLATTEN ALL RESISTANCE! WE WILL RUIN YOUR PRECIOUS REICH MADE OF MAD DOGS AND SEE TO THE EXTINCTION OF ALL YOU STAND FOR! WE WILL KILL YOU IN THE NAME OF THE FATHERLAND, NOT FOR HITLER, WE KILL YOU FOR GERMANY! NOW PREPARE TO DIE!”
With that Hansel ordered Marion to push on and instantly she was away. In her path was a line of sandbags and dug in MGs and a Pak 38 that stretched across the main road. Her gaze was in a fierce stance that was affixed on that Pak gun, the gun crew hastily loaded and aimed but she knew they couldn’t do anything. They were only wasting precious time to run. The Pak fired into her upper and glanced off; Marion didn’t feel a thing and smiled as she slammed into the barricades. She heard the men screaming as her treads pushed them into the road and she and Whacker ripped any SS infantry they saw to pieces with their 42’s. They pushed through the town streets gunning down every SS soldier they saw. They HE bombed out any nests and sniper towers and trampled over any SS that stood in their way. Their blind push forward at first let the infantry swarm and absolutely overrun the SS soldiers but then it led Marion too far away from the infantry and, as she went through a narrow street, head long into another Tiger II. At first the Tiger II was hesitant to shoot because Hansel and them had rolled up the US star banners and Marion was portraying her German Iron Crosses, but Marion and Whacker spraying down infantry soon gave the Tiger II a rude awakening and a fight for its life. Hansel was the first to come to grips that they had no infantry support and he unbuttoned his hatch and grabbed his 42 so he could help watch her sides. As he was standing up out of the hatch he heard a blood curdling scream.
“TRAITOR PIG!” Hansel snapped his head to the right as a SS camouflaged soldier leapt from a window onto Marion’s roof. He slid into Hansel’s cupola swinging into him with his fists, Hansel narrowly dodged a few but one caught him in the head, knocking his headset off. Hansel punched the soldier in the nose blooding it. “YOU PIG! I’LL KILL YA!” He stood up and drew his P38 handgun and chambered a round, “AND THEN I’M GONNA HANG YA!” He pointed the gun at Hansel, Hansel dropped the 42 inside and lunged at the gun and grabbed it with his left.
“Get off my TANK!” He pulled as hard as he could and punched a right hook into the soldier’s jaw. The soldier lunged himself into Hansel and grabbed him, taking Hansel down with him. Hansel’s back bent and ground against the MG rail as he fell out of Marion and slid to the ground. Hansel felt immense pain as he most likely cut his back severely and possibly broke a rib landing. He and the SS soldier stumbled to their feet and the soldier, unable to have held onto his pistol, draws his bayonet and stands in a wide stance. Once Hansel regains his balance he strains to dodge and parry his attacker’s mad swings. Marion’s side and a brick wall constrain Hansel to fight head on and while Hansel was much taller with a longer reach than his attacker he also needed a bigger space to evade. He was running out of stamina, his adrenaline was pumping as much as possible but he was malnourished and tired. He looked to Marion for help but she was super focused on fighting the other tank. He screamed for her and smacked her side when he could but she didn’t seem to notice. He saw an opening and lunged at his attacker. He in turn took the knife and swiped from left to right at Hansel, missing and getting the long blade wedged deep in between the brick and mortar. At this time one of Marion’s arms shot out towards the soldier, who evaded, and struck the knife hilt and thus breaking the blade. The soldier recovered and spat out a wad of blood before lunging at Hansel again. Hansel had no balance and only had time to grab the arm.
It was too late.
The broken knife blade pierced through Hansel in his gut. Hansel’s grip prevented the soldier from moving the knife any more than it was but damage had been done. The soldier smiled and looked into Hansel’s scared eyes with a wicked grin; his teeth were covered in blood and his nose was broken. Hansel’s right arm and hand were free and with one swift movement he drew his father’s knife from its hip sheathe and jammed the blade into the soldier’s temple. The blade easily broke the temple, just under the stalnhelm and hit the brain, the blow broke the soldier’s bearing and his dying body released and crumpled to the floor. Hansel, too, collapsed forward but caught himself before he fell to his left side, the side the knife was on. Marion screamed out and grabbed Hansel, her eye searched over him a thousand times a second, her mind was going a million miles an hour but she had no idea what to do. She kept calling him again and again but he would only moan. She panicked and shook him crying out medic, medic, medic, her other eye caught the white circle with a superimposed red cross and her arms lashed at it. She slapped the rifle from his hands and pulled the medic over to Hansel’s body and with a sobbing voice she pleaded him to do something, to save him. The medic was very fresh and had only been ‘bloodied’ the day before; he laid Hansel flat on his back and undid his Panzer black tunic. He had no idea that he was working on an American conscripted tanker, all he knew was that the tank was crying and this German tanker needed help. Being a little bit thrown off by a living tank he carefully removed the knife and ignored Marion’s wails while he opened up the tunic. He stuffed his hand into the gash to apply pressure as his other hand gathered clean rags and bandages. He then replaced his hand with the rags and put on as much pressure as he could.
Hansel couldn’t move, his whole body was hurting. He felt blood oozing from gashes on his back, he felt all numb and hurt in his lower left gut where he’d been stabbed, and he felt Marion’s hands grabbing at him. He felt that one warm hand on his cheek, that one hand on his right cheek, the creases and folds where it bends, the textured grips, the blunt corners of each finger, all three fingers and the thumb, the palm, and the wrist. He felt their warm, passionate kiss, her lips enveloping his lips and the metallic and fleshy taste of her mouth on his tongue and the warmth that those kisses brought to him. He felt their embraces when it was cold, her tight and rimmed arms surrounding his torso keeping him warm on a cold night. He felt her relaxing hull, her platform that he’d sleep on like a mattress that was always warm when it’s cold and cool when it’s hot. He felt all of it, and he loved it. Her hand, it calmed him, his memories, it made him feel giddy, their love, it made him feel like everything was alright. Like nothing would separate them. He knew he was dying, and images of his friends flashed by him but he never took his gaze off of Marion. He thought to himself about death, he knew that their love was dangerous, that their lives were filled with death, and he constantly thought about this. He was once again thinking of death, about when he’s gone, he thought that when he dies today that he’ll be with her forever. He didn’t worry about not being with her, he would be her guardian angel, her consoling spirit, nor if there was no god and no spirits than she’s have his memories, memories of him and their love. He was alright if she moved on and loved another, he didn’t fear or dislike that. After all, he is dead, and he knows that she wouldn’t ever forget him. And he would never forget her. That brought a smile to his face. He wished he could get up and walk to her but he hurt too much, he wished he could tell her it was okay but his voice was weak. So instead he continued to smile and look at her.
The medic had been toiling away at his task with Marion carefully watching while the infantry caught up, fighting their way through the fanatical resistance. They saw that their beloved friends were still and they rushed up to help. They swarmed around and secured the area, holding the medic at gunpoint. Marion vouched for him, pleaded them to leave him. They brought up an American medic to take over and escorted the disgruntled SS medic to the other captured SS soldiers. Marion grabbed the dead SS soldier that assaulted her lover and threw him across the street into the burning Tiger II hulk. His body smacked against the metal making a loud cracking noise as many bones inside his corpse shattered. His rag body slumps to the ground leaving a large blood splat on the Tiger II’s armor. Marion had noticed their commotion on her roof but all her focus was making sure that the Tiger II was dead. She first put a shot right into the hull machine gun and second the coaxial, after countless shots wasted on the armor she noticed that the SS would back in and out of an intersection and shoot into her armor, she grew tired of it and so she pulled up just enough to HE rip their right track off. She backed up and just in time because they pulled out-or at least tried to. The left track drug their left flank into view and Marion put one into the driver’s seat killing him. The tank could only sit there and take her punishment and punishment is what she gave. Round after round she pumped into the side until a fire was set and the survivors tried to bail. Whacker and Marion gunned them down before they could get anywhere. Now that it was all done and over Marion noticed that the SS crew painted a pair of eyes on the turret, one on each side just as she had it only their eyes had a yellow eyeball and red irises. She didn’t care if it was alive or not, if it was she’d still kill it. She knows that her people are few in numbers but she knows that if it was in the gene pool, the same gene pool she was in, she would forcibly remove it for machine kind. Marion and her crew were relieved after that, they had shown that they were strong, showed that they were dutiful and trustworthy. General Patton received word of their results and arranged plans for them based on their performance. They didn’t know it then but that battle would be their last for the Second Great War. The U.S. forces took eighty-six prisoners of war from that town and the efforts of Marion saved many children and women forced to serve Hitler by the SS. Whenever they met a group of forced warriors she disarmed them and ordered to stand down. That helped Marion sleep at night, helped ease her burdens. She kept Hansel by her side while he recovered from his ailments, the stab wound severed his appendix from his intestines, at least now he didn’t need to worry about it exploding-something frequent in his bloodline.
Fin Ch 45
Well this is not the ending to their story but this pretty much ends their military combat for the U.S. Hansel’s injury puts him in a sickbed for the rest of the war, which ends for Europe on May 8th. I’m sorry that this was posted later than normal, it was a mix of missing the usual date and making this extra dramatic. I know, I’m a bastard.
This post is long and absolutely packed with stuff.
Time passed, time passed like a breeze, the German captives adjusted to the death, the pain, the feelings of traitors, and they were kept busy enough to have time slip by faster than ever. At any given point Hansel could tell exactly what he did the day before, but couldn’t tell you anything different. It all blurred into one, they all lost that drive to aspire, that drive to have their brains track exactly what they were doing. They were mindless drones doing the same routine again and again. That all changed when Bastogne was recaptured. The German tanks were sent out again, this time they knew who they were getting: Fritz and Jäger. They were found backed into a building, Jäger, in defiance of a mobile Sherman, threw her ass into a building to keep the Sherman away. By her face Marion knew she had been long ago defeated. Jäger’s face looked utterly gone, she was almost soulless, and her faceplate looked a bit paler in some weird way. She had a white cloth on her bow and Fritz wasn’t too far away, his added skirt armor was shredded away and Jäger had thrown hers away, they found it at the old campsite, probably in depression. Fritz was heavily battle damaged, he had been swarmed by Shermans in tight streets and he was easily shot with no retaliation, he gave up and white flagged when Jäger apparently refused to help. Fritz and his crew were by Jäger, all silent. They all looked defeated, but Jäger and Edwards looked worse off than all. Not the reunion of Marion or Rosa or their friends could help. Not even Mini, the first one to ever befriend her, could help.
“What else can we do to get to her? You’re her first friend!” Marion exclaimed in anguish. She really hated not being able to help.
“Actually,” Mini said solemnly as he thought of what may have happened, “Irish was her first friend.” Just mentioning Irish made her lips quiver and her eyes tear up. With that they turned to Edwards and Fritz.
“It wasn’t too long ago. It started when there was another bombing raid or artillery or some other pussy form of combat. Either way one caught Jäger’s crew. None of them made it. She was nearly useless then, she doesn’t know how to use herself, only knows how to fire and aim and move. She was messed up bad by that, she clung to me and Irish with all the hope she had. We tried helping her, E as well, so did Edwards, but the only ones who could perk her were myself and Irish.”
“Were, as in, you could?” He nodded. “What happened?” …
“Jäger, come on Jäger we gotta go!” Irish yelled out as he threw on his jacket, Fritz was trying to push her away from the center of the square. “Jäger move your ass! They’re coming!”
“Who?” She asked halfheartedly. She was still depressed but she was talking, at least.
“The allies!” E pulled out of her cubbie of rubble and turned around, she boosted Irish up onto her turret.
“You two can take them.” She slurred out.
“We can’t kill planes!” Edwards yelled, he was mounting the dual MGs onto Fritz’s gun slide above the Cupola. “Move your asses!”
“Fine! Fine! I’ll move!” She gave in and pushed off, Fritz pushed her up to twenty-two kilometers an hour.
“Thank you, baby!” Fritz yelled. E had better mobility than both of them despite her excessive armor and hurriedly took to the lead of the three. Irish was sitting ‘heads up’ in his commander’s cupola.
“Don’t worry E, I’ve never been hit by a plane and I never will, we’ll make it.” He calmed her, the three races out towards the tree line to disappear into the foliage. They came to another square, it had a huge fountain in the middle and a tight turn, E ran into the fountain and turned, the brick and mortar wedged into her tracks. It slowed her down. She was just getting over the fountain when the worst pain she’s ever had hit her in the ass. It was to the right of her engine, just below the vents and radiators. It hit her fuel tank. Unbeknownst to them an American M5 three inch anti-tank gun burrowed into the rubble and hidden behind foliage that had just had the luckiest penetration in history. Fire erupted from her engine deck and the ruptured fuel tank, E panicked, Jäger watched and panicked, Irish instantly went in to go through the back hatch and put out the flames when E stopped him. He strained to help her, but she cried no. She was dragging him out of the hatch, he restrained, and he cried that he wasn’t leaving her, he wouldn’t leave her.
“Irish!” She yelled over him, getting his attention. “Irish you have to leave! You can’t stay, I won’t let you! Live on! Go!” He still refused; she had her turret turned over her flank and tears streaming down her turret. She brought him to her lips and they locked into a kiss. Jäger, Fritz, and Edwards were surprised by this, the whole time the two were bickering, at each other’s throats, completely unlikely. Once they unlocked E smacked his Walther P38 into his hand and thrusted him at Jäger. Jäger caught him and held him tight, E commanded they leave now. They obeyed.
They circumvented that street and escaped into the woods. The planes made their runs and left, they started off back to the base. On the way Irish was extremely distraught, Jäger had him on her engine deck and Fritz was pushing her. Edwards and Fritz were watching him closely, everyone was. He kept eying the Walther; he examined it, smiling randomly. “Fritz,” Edwards said, “is there a mag in that pistol?” Just then Irish chambered the pistol with a huge grin on his face. Edwards’s heart raced and he was about to lunge when Fritz held him back.
“No.” Irish instantly turned the pistol upside down and stuck his finger down the mag well. He fingered it until he had pulled out a folded card, he unfolded it. It was a picture of him and E, before they expressed themselves to each other. It was right before they left for Prinz Eugen, in the picture Irish was smiling and so was E. Genuinely smiling. Irish tucked the pistol away and looked into E’s eye in the picture. It was a small corner shot of her left flank with himself atop her in the commander’s cupola, in view was her armored skirt, a slim shot of the tracks and the sprocket, and it ran as far back as behind the turret ring and as far forward as the lamp on her bow. He loved that picture; she looked so beautiful in the picture and so happy. He knew leaving her was a mistake, he couldn’t leave her alone like that; he was going to make it right and go back to her. He vowed to return to her and to be with her for whatever may come. Once they returned to base he stood up and hopped off Jäger’s stern. He walked in front of Jäger so that she could see him and said goodbye. His face gave away his intention, Jäger was hurting but she knew he would be hurting much more than she would be. She hugged him and let him go, he went and said his goodbye to Fritz and Edwards and walked off down the road. A squad of riflemen raised their rifles towards his back.
“Shoot him and I’ll crush you slowly beneath my treads.” Jäger boomed dark and serious as ever. The infantry instantly lowered their rifles. Tears were streaming down her face; she had lost her first friend. As he disappeared into the white Jäger lost it, she ripped off her extra armored skirts in a fit of anger and threw them down. She retreated into herself, she hid inside her mind. She went silent from then on, and as the memory of her first friend walking into the white nothingness engraved itself forever onto her memory she clutched herself where he painted her name in bold letters.
Edwards was hurt bad, too, the two of them went all the way back to Irish’s first assignment. Back when he was known by his name, back when he worked with the artillery more than anything, back when the war was victorious. Back when war was nothing but a march through a foreign country. Now, now it’s a hellish struggle of man and machine verses man and machine. A bloody and seemingly fruitless fight to the death and for what? Edwards thought. For a mad man with a temper. He concluded…
“That’s how we’re here. That’s why she is like this.” Fritz leaned into her; he held her and tried his best to comfort her. “You didn’t find them dead, did you?” Jäger looked desperate once he said that, she visibly shook with fear, she moved out of the rubble crawling towards Marion and Hansel. She said the first thing she’s said in days.
“Please!?” They all looked to each other; a Major near with them said that Hansel and Marion have been on absolutely every recovery mission of German armor.
“We haven’t found anything.” The Major’s face suddenly lit up.
“We found the only thing that could have done that! An M5 gun and its crew were in the rubble of a parliament building. They had only a few shots left. They might have done it.” He suddenly regretted telling them that. Jäger’s face begged for more. “Yeah there was a fountain in the view; it was fucked up, too. Big tank ripped it to shit. But no tank anywhere. Just a half track in the road.” Jäger’s face brightened, hope of a sort came back to her. She trembled with excitement and grabbed onto Fritz. One of her arms came across an injury of his, a Sherman shell lodged into his armor, without any remarks she ripped it out to his pain and put it on his deck.
“Now what about us?” Fritz asked. “Are we scrap?”
“No.” The Major said. “Neither you or that female Panther A we found earlier will be scrapped. None of you. With you and the Panther A you will both be conditioned to repair yourselves, to heal.” With that Edwards and his crew were marched back to the American base as POWs and Jäger and Fritz were escorted back as experiments.
The Americans pushed harder, kicking German ass out of France and taking heavy casualties at the same time. The Germans were brought up as well, doing their usual tasks, and they came across the wrecks of their old friends more and more. Eryka and Inbred were the next ones to be captured. Eryka had no ammunition for her 15 centimeter and no fuel. They said that it was all down to the wire, that the end was close for the living machine battalion. More destruction ensued. The Hummels were found, the sister pregnant with the only surviving crew member’s baby, the brother extremely unhappy with the pregnancy followed closely by the Marder II, and then it died down for three days. On the fourth day the battalion was done for. Marion and the German tanks capable and trusted were moved to the front to sway the rest to come peacefully. They came across Hetz flipped and Aston under her bow soothing her worries. More tanks, then they came upon the worst one yet. Frau and Canine. They were together, but Frau was bawling, her left track was about eight meters behind her, claw marks in the ground showed how she struggled to get to Canine. He was dead. Canine’s turret had been blown off by an ammunition detonation. Frau was pleading with God for his return, she pleaded, and she didn’t care what it would cost him or her for him back. She pleaded, she cried, she bawled, she had lost him yet still refused to leave him. They left her there; they were all shocked how he was actually dead. His turret had his eyes shut, when Marion opened an eye lid a pale and blank eye returned the gaze. He was actually dead. They came upon Dora and Ferdi next, shortly Porscha after. Later, just outside of the next town they found Allison. She too, was dead. Many penetrations on her side and the fuel and the turret. Inside remnants of Major Idek were found. A shot had torn through Allison’s turret and obliterated his chest and stomach area. Nazi Idek was no more. Neither was his Nazi tank. When Marion opened her eyes she saw fear, pain, confusion, all wrapped and packed into her eyes. It chilled Marion. The Major, however, was quite interested in the tank. General Patton was sitting in his jeep while gas was being put in and the Major approached him with an offer.
“General Patton, sir.”
“Mornin’ Maj, how’re things with the Breathers?” Breathers was the nickname that the G.I.s gave to the living tanks, Rosa, Chuck, Tiger, Cindy, all of them were called Breathers.
“All is well, sir. That tank wreck there, sir. I want it.” General Patton looked at it, it was in too shit condition to be of any use outside of scrap or target practice. He turned back to the Major expecting a reason. “I want to keep that armor line in my factory, sir; I want that tank ’cause of the hell they raise and the shit they brush off.”
“So how do you want it?”
“Name a price, sir.” General Patton dropped his head back and thought, he knew the Major had a good pool of wealth, and that his car factory was making Sherman tanks for Uncle Sam.
“Uhh, I’ll sell it for six grand.” The Major reeled but accepted the price immediately. The Major arranged the payment and once it was settled out Patton gave orders to move Allison’s wreck to a specific location. “A pleasure doin’ business with ya.”
They pushed forth. The allies were far ahead of the next town, but Hansel knew this town. He felt the blind hatred, rage full and destructive super hatred. He felt pain and deprivation, he absolutely hated this place. He was sick terribly and he hadn’t even seen a map or looked out a viewport. He felt it. As Marion crossed the bridge and tried to comfort Hansel Meats exclaimed for Hansel. Four wooden crosses stood by the road, and by those crosses sat Faust. She was cheery, and fine, when Meats told him that Hansel grew disgusted, he grew furious towards her. He questioned how she could be alright with losing Anton and that’s when Meats said Anton was sitting on her roof. Hansel was in disbelief. He exploded out of the cupola and cried, cried like a baby. There, sitting atop her turret, was Anton. Waving as allied vehicles passed him. “Go Hansel,” was all Marion said. Hansel threw himself out of Marion, he ran towards Anton with open arms, Faust tossed Anton down and he ran to meet Hansel. Hansel wrapped around Anton bawling out his eyes and felt so relieved. It’s an indescribable feeling, knowing that you lost someone so dear to you only to see them alive and healthy before your eyes. Hansel wasn’t a man of God but at that moment he believed more than anything in miracles.
“Anton! Oh my God, Anton! ANTON!” Faust moved up to them with a smile on her face.
“I couldn’t believe it, either.” She pulled the two of them aside so they didn’t obstruct the flow of supplies to the front. Anton and Hansel dropped to their knees and after what seemed like forever did they release each other. Hansel’s face had become flushed red with emotion.
“How? Anton how? What happened?”
“Faust saved me, but that’s all I know.”
“That’s all he remembers, I’ve told him a few times.” Faust said before she started explaining what happened. “So as the fire was leaking into my cabin I felt Anton barging on his hatch but it wasn’t giving. I panicked, and I wrapped him up with everything I had. He was in a whole wrap of my arms when my few rounds exploded. The blast caught the others,” she paused and glanced at the four crosses, thinking of what she could have done to save them, “and so I saved Anton with my armored arms. I didn’t know that the blast had knocked him out and so as he was unconscious I thought he was dead. I held his throbbing body thinking it was just my arms reacting until he woke up that night.”
“Yeah,” Anton said sad, remembering what they did afterwards, “that’s when we collected the body parts and dug the graves.” Faust and he looked gloomy, Hansel never really met her crew, he sat next to her commander once during a briefing but that was all.
“We found him some clothes and some spare metal to fix me up.” Hansel didn’t even notice that Anton had changed clothes; he was in clothes that badly fit him and thus made him look like some teenager who lost his clothes, probably the reason why he wasn’t arrested by the Americans.
“He looks like shit.” Hansel said, pulling on the blue women’s blouse Anton was wearing. “Why did he change clothes?”
“I didn’t want anyone to come take him from me, and his clothes were dirty, I’m still washing them now.”
By then Marion had worked her way across the bridge and had gotten off to the side of the road. Hansel was trying to make Anton’s clothes not look so bad when he noticed Anton’s veins were darker like Inbred’s and he seemed heavier.
“Faust did you..?” Hansel wasn’t too sure how he liked this change on Anton. Faust explained she did it so that nothing could hurt him anymore. Hansel sat in silence, Inbred had been converted, and back before Cindy someone recommended it to Marion, but it was sketchy. Neither had the confidence in it. “So.., Anton, how do you feel?”
“Great!” He said, Hansel didn’t find anything different with his voice, it was excited and giddy as always. “I’m a little cold but look at me, I have no clothes.” Marion changed the subject.
“Faust you should hold on to Anton, soon the docs will find you and they might try to separate you.” Faust instantly grabbed Anton and pulled him up to her hood.
“No they are not.” She declared, she held Anton tight against her glacis plate and wrapped a blanket around him. She was adjusting the blanket and it made Anton look like an old hermit lady. The day Hansel introduced Marion to the others returned to his memory, his little witch voice. It’s been forever since he’s done that, he gave it a shot and sure enough he made his shrill little laugh. “What the-?”
“Sorry, just making sure I still had my witch laugh.” Marion shuddered with that painful memory of having to show herself. Hansel and Marion remember it very differently. Marion saw Cindy with a box of MREs on her back; she was whistling a tune until she saw Marion. She yelled out for Marion and raced her way across the bridge; she came to a stop just at Marion’s side and hugged her.
“Hi Cindy! Where’s Chuck and Katelyn?” Marion asked returning the hug.
“They’re in the back helping move trailers.” Cindy had grown attached to Katelyn and Chuck as family but she still entrusted Marion and Hansel with everything, they were still her immediate family in her eyes.
“Looks like your tracks don’t fit anymore, Cindy.” Faust said. She pulled on Cindy’s tracks, indeed they were loose and a little overlapping.
“Faust!” Cindy exclaimed, she jumped back and rolled into her side hugging her, too. “Yeah they’re my bigger ones. Chuck says I’ll fit ’em in a few months. Are you okay?” She backed away and looked at the shot hole in Faust’s side. It was just under her most rear return roller and had started healing and made visible progress.
“I’m fine, so is Anton.” Cindy looked confused.
“Isn’t he in heaven?”
“No, I’m right here!” He flipped off the blanket hood and showed her.
“Oh! Hi Anton!”
“Hello!” By this time Zwei had caught up with them. Geoff was playing with his little brother and Mez was asleep inside Zwei. Cindy noticed Zwei and introduced Zwei to Faust and Faust to Zwei. Zwei had met another Panzer IV before but it wasn’t like Faust with her extra armored skirts, it was only a Panzer IV G. They talked, Hansel reminisced in the fact Anton was alive, and Marion rested and talked with Cindy about Cindy’s ideas for making everyone happy. Marion pulled out a chunk of wood she’s been whittling and continued on with her project. Cindy saw it and asked.
“What’s that? Is that like what Hetz gave Aston?”
“Yes. I’m trying to make a cat like Franz, you remember Franz, right?”
“Yeah, it’s Fritz’s cat.” Saying his name made Cindy uncomfortable, even though he had only hurt her once it permanently scarred her mind. “What happened to Jäger? She was all sad and my hug didn’t help her.”
“She lost a friend. A very close friend.”
“Will she be alright? Who was her friend?”
“She’ll be fine after some time.”
“So who died?”
“Do you remember a man we called Irish?” Cindy’s face showed her thinking.
“I think so,” she thought harder, “he had red hair and was always with that tank that looked like you. E? Yeah. Is he dead?” Marion was silent.
“Who knows?” Cindy felt Marion’s discomfort; she hugged Marion thinking that her discomfort was sadness, it wasn’t. Instead of sadness it was confusion, confliction. Why didn’t we find them?
They had to push on. Faust was inspected by the doctors and her wounds were assessed, she was healing just fine. Rosa and Kramia were doing fine with their pregnancies and were being well fed. Mini personally donated his crushed armored skirts for Kramia and made sure she was always warm and her needs were fulfilled. Hansel had developed a little hobby of making note of their collection of German tanks captured; the most notable one who was not on the list was Griffin. Almost every tank by this time was captured in the allied advance or, sadly, killed off. He checked on where they were all going and the vast majority was going to a little village in France with a name none of them knew how to pronounce, even Canine’s remains are going there. Frau, as he learned, absolutely refused to leave his side, they had effectively become one tank. One night when Kramia drug Mini out to the woods for their time off it made Whacker feel uncomfortable and lonely. He wanted to talk to her and get any tips he can, maybe Mini, too. But in the end Kramia probably knows what Russian tank women want most. He tried his hardest to try to think of a way to talk to her about the subject without making it seem like he was trying to steal her from Mini. That was one of his worst fears, being accused of cheating or attempting to cheat. He thought and thought. He’d have to wait until Mini went off to bring it up so that he didn’t get defensive and so that Kramia could still keep some secrets from Mini. He got it all down packed before they came back.
He waited until the next day. Kramia wasn’t going to be checked for at least an hour after Mini so while Mini was going through his inspection Whacker brought it up with Kramia, she wasn’t at all offended or flattered. She was quite blunt with him, more than he anticipated, in actuality. “They’re most likely just looking for affection. All that alienation does its toll on them and they are more likely to flock to the affectionate person and flee their old ranks. That’s how Mir got me, he cared for me, supported me. That’s all you need to do is show that you care.” It made him happy. “But then again if there is someone they are with on the Russian side then they will be attached to them stronger than anything. So don’t rush in but rather test them, spark up a friendly conversation with them first. If they’re a little wayward towards you and they draw close to you then they are probably single.” With that she sent him off. “Shoo, shoo, figure the rest out yourself.”
Fin Ch 43
Here’s chapter 42! This is a long one, guys. It’ll be worth the extended wait.
Banker shifted the gear inside Betty, the engine slurred before it roared to full power again. A seamless transition of gears while he gauged the track set up for his qualification. He pulled the left track’s handbrake and hit the clutch, shifting the left track’s gear and turning Betty on the dirt road and righting her flawlessly. An outsider couldn’t see and change in power, Banker had quickly mastered Betty’s controls like he did with Marion’s and he was driving Betty around the track almost gracefully with precision and accuracy; every turn was on point and beautiful. He finished the track and brought her to a stop right next to General Patton’s jeep. Patton smiled, as Banker opened the hatch and stood up General Patton congratulated him.
“Kid, that was some of the best driving I’ve ever seen. You earned that spot.” He turned, but turned back and pointed. “But we’ll be watching you. Watching very closely.”
“Thank you, sir!” He eagerly said. He just made Betty’s crew. She grabbed his arm excitedly; as the General’s jeep drove away she turned him around and kissed him. “I did it!” He turned around and fell into the chair; he relaxed himself into the chair, holding his hand over her hand still clasping his shoulders. She closed the hatch above him and reached into his hand.
How do you feel?
I’m so relieved! You have no idea how stressed I was just then! Oh god I’m so glad that’s over. So what do we do now?
I think we should meet the rest of the crew. Phil isn’t going to be happy.
Phil was Chuck’s driver, right?
What’re the other names?
Uhh, Sam is the gunner, Dick is the loader, Joshua was the commander, and Hal is the assistant driver.
Well let’s go break it to them. Banker seated himself and drove her where she told him to drive her. She felt so pampered being driven around; she could completely relax and let herself flow. She felt like she was gliding over the snow, like a bird soaring over the ground, she never felt like that. Her last driver was choppy and sporadic with the controls while Albert was smooth, firm but comfortable, and seemingly one with herself.
Turn here, Albert. Banker brought her to a halt, put both her tracks in reverse and elevated the reverse gear of her right side to back up left before he slipped her into forward. They came upon the boys and broke in the news. The boys all huddled around Phil, who was very pissed, and tried to keep his hot head cool. Phil eventually stormed off to find Chuck, while the others talked to Banker. While they had met before they still didn’t trust him, they didn’t either when they first met (they all slept with their pistols under the pillow and a man awake on watch) and the only reason that they allowed it in the first place was because Betty was there; she would separate the guys.
“How do you feel, Kraum?” Mini was holding Kramia to his side with her chin snuggling his side and her gun inter his mantle. He was combing through the engine vents on her back to soothe her and massaging her gun barrel. She had tears coming down her eyes; she did plan for kids, but she felt like she was being forced to do this. Mini constantly assured her that she wasn’t being forced to do anything, and he assured her again. “Honey, you know they’re asking, they aren’t telling. You don’t have to do this.” He kissed her gun barrel. “It’s all up to you, Kramia.”
“Maybe,” she stammered out, “but what else are we supposed to do?” She leaned in more to his side. Since she had been included into the German army Mini’s added skirt armor was pushed against his hull by their cuddling, effectively ruining its purpose. “It’s not like we have a choice.”
“But you do.”
“Mini! If I don’t do it then it’ll look bad on us! We have to do what they want or else we will lose!” She was extremely emotional; she clung to Mini’s side and buried herself even more into him. He understood her standpoint, appease the captor to survive, but he didn’t see the Americans as like that. Unlike the Russians that she knows or the Germans that they’ve seen, the Americans are much more respectful, they still treat their prisoners as prisoners but they still retain that humanity in it all. He didn’t think that Kramia would be harmed. But she didn’t see that.
“Baby, they aren’t like the Germans and they are not the Russians. They will not harm you.”
“How do you know that? Huh? What if we refuse and they split us? They cut us open and examine what we are?” Mini himself didn’t have proof but he knew someone that did. He opened her driver hatch and set her to neutral and carried her to a road. A few minutes passed and Tiger came passing by loaded with ammunition. Mini followed by her side and asked some questions.
“Tiger, have the Americans ever mistreated you?” She frowned.
“Dice into you, cut you, separate you from your friends, that kind of abuse.”
“No, none that I didn’t ask for.” Mini smiled and glanced to an observing Kramia, “well, they put me on the front during the Italy skirmish.”
“So did they send you on suicide missions or impossible feats, or in other ways cause you harm?”
“Again, none that I didn’t ask for, but they sent me up against my own, that was the worst they did to me without my consent.” She went on. “As long as you are fine with killing your own nationality then you should find nothing wrong with the Americans.”
“Have you ever said no?” Kramia asked.
“I have said no before, that I’ve done.”
“Did they reprimand you?” Mini asked.
“No.” She answered fast. Kramia suddenly asked another question.
“Wait, why do you mean, ‘none that I didn’t ask for,’ what did you ask for?” She chuckled.
“Well, I like it a little rough.” Kramia and Mini were a little shocked.
“With who?” She winked at Kramia.
“The boys.” There was a tense silence. “Boys are boys, and boys like girls.” Another tense silence. “And I’ve probably done more experimenting than the doctors have. I’ve even played with another girl, but that’s my little secret.” That part punched the two in the face. Mini slowly lagged behind Tiger trying to understand what she had said. Kramia didn’t notice him stopping, but she was considering that child now.
“Mir, how much did she say again?”
“More than the coats.”
“Do you think she’d be down for a three way?”
Later Kramia was with Mini near the doctor’s tent. The group in study was going through their daily physical and Kramia promised an answer by the end of the day. She had her answer and she wanted Mini to hear it first. She wasn’t sure how to tell him, she was scared he wouldn’t commit, she would always look to her surroundings for answers. In Russia there was no God, only Stalin, but what Kramia did have was nature, she had her surroundings to help her. So this moment she felt the chilling wind flow against her, the warmth from her Mir against her skin, the fluttering birds and the drifting clouds, it all felt like a perfect day. It was relaxing, and the snow looked pure, it was calm, and the air was full. She mustered her strength and whispered it to Mini. “Mir, I want our child.”
“Huh?” It was so sudden it caught him off guard. “You, you do want it?” She looked into his brown eyes, she was solid. “Are you sure you want it, Kraum, you really don’t have to do this. You know that.”
“I know that, but I do want our baby, I want this. I want our child. Please Mini, this isn’t for them, this is for us. Think about it, we can finally start our family that we dream about.” She had closed her eyes and buried herself in his side, the thought of family warming her heart, and Mini held her close and tight.
“Kramia, my sweet, precious, Kramia, I want you to be happy. I want you to think about it, we can wait until after the war, we can wait for this.” He kissed her gun and held her hands; he stroked her commander’s cupola like it was hair. She readjusted herself and brought him as close to her as she could get.
“Mir, I do want this. Please, please let me have this child.” She felt him think, his hull warmed and he ‘hmm’d as he thought. He turned his turret to her and kissed her gun closer to her body.
“As long as you are happy, Kraum.” The doctor came out and asked the question. Was Kramia going to have a child?
“Yes.” She said in her improving English. “Yes. But I want control over it.”
“All of it.” Mini demanded. “Give her control over the whole process, the forming, the birthing, and the raising.” The doctor waved his hand.
“Yeah, yeah, of course, of course!” He picked up a clipboard and started jotting down notes. “So you two will be given an hour of personal time each day to do your thing in the woods, Kramia you will be monitored to ensure you and the fetus are healthy, Mini-Rommel you will be regularly checked, as you already are, but now for the active production of spermatozoa-” Mini cut him off.
“They just hold a stethoscope up to your balls, that’s all.” Chuck said. “I have to do it, too.” The doctor nodded and continued with his elongated spiel.
“We will feed Kramia regular and adequate materials as she so desires and Mini-Rommel you will be fed so that your spermatozoa produces regularly..,” he paused for a breath “AND right now you will be cleaned and prepped, Kramia.” Kramia’s eyes widened.
“What?” Mini held her. The doctor explained.
“You’re covered in rust, you need a good cleaning, and we need to make sure your cabin is healthy enough for pregnancy. Don’t worry; we’re only going to clean you up like you’re fresh off the line.” About five minutes later a team of mechanics appeared, they shook hands with Kramia, promised not to do too much, and they began. Over her months of being careless she had completely lost the ability to maintain herself. While her crew minimally did anything to her as it was they did at least ‘pamper’ her outside. They took much pride in her appearance and would scrub out and paint over any and all rust that was found. But when she killed her crew and deserted she didn’t have the knowledge, skill, or tools to clean herself. Mini didn’t care what she really looked like, he loved her the same, but now that she was to be pregnant that all changed. He helped the team clean her, he combed over her body, scanning every inch for deficiencies, and after a long day’s work they finished-her outside. They then opened up the inside and turned on lights for the sunlight was fading. The team gawked at the remnants of her old crew. When one asked how that got there she said that the Russians ‘earned what was coming to them’ and scared them back to work. Another good long time later she was finished. Her ammunition was recovered, her knickknacks that she collected like pretty stones, some rifle rounds, a helmet from the Russian army, a fur cap, some empty vodka bottles (the ones that still had some left were tucked away in her only spare fuel tank left with a false hatch on it) and a smaller gift from Mini-Rommel, they were all out into small boxes and strapped to her side opposite the 85’s side. Her inner machine guns were removed and placed in her turret so that when it closes they will still be inside her. Once they were all done the team went to chow and then to bed. Mini and Kramia would have sex tomorrow because the allocated hour had already passed that day. Kramia was excited, she held on to Mini with every hand she had, a huge smile on her face, and bright and cheery eyes looked at him, those eyes also made him excited.
“Kramia,” he said, “tomorrow night when we do this, I want you to look at me.” She was confused.
“Mir, I don’t think we can do that,” she turned her gun around and waved it up and down, “you can’t get on.” Mini looked around in the dark and saw nobody.
“I’m going to use this,” his little driver’s viewport hatch on his bow opened and out slithered a long and thick-limp-cock. Kramia grabbed it in her hand; a naughty smile came over her face.
“I think,” she said as she spun her turret around, “that we should test its use first.” She rubbed up and down its shaft. It filled and grew consistently; it grew and grew to her surprise almost four times its original size. “Wow, Mir! I’m impressed!” She grabbed it with two hands and slapped it against the side of her turret. “This thing is bigger than I thought!” Its length was about how tall her turret was and it was a good thickness. She licked the side of it; acquiring his exquisite taste and delectable texture. Mini moaned and shuddered, he extended his cock’s reach some more she could lick it all, and lick it she did. She licked all around his cock head; she licked under his split and drug her tongue up to the top.
“You like it rough, Kraum?” She mmhmm’d in response; he suddenly shot his cock deep into her mouth. She was shocked for a second but drug her tongue back into her mouth slowly, bringing in whatever cock wasn’t in her mouth already. Mini was in total bliss as she sucked his cock, she licked his long cock, jerked it in and out of her mouth and rubbing his head on her mouth roof, she worked his shaft, and grabbed one of his hands and shoved it into her leaking pussy. He grabbed and fondled the clit bulb, he massaged and spread her lips, and he sent two snaking tendrils deep into her tailpipes. Kramia closed her eyes tight and quivered under Mini’s harsh loving.
Whacker was walking along the imbedding path that Kramia and Mini were making. He wanted to check and see if Kramia was or was not going to have a child. He was thinking in his head what that would look like; there were many different ideas in his mind. He chuckled quietly as he thought of a big T-34 hull with two turrets, one stacked on the other, because a choice wasn’t made between the two. Suddenly he stopped as he saw the two. He saw them love making. He had walked in on some friends doing it before, but, something about the sight of Kramia made him stay. It wasn’t at all her person, rather how she was styled. The rivets on her ass portion caught his eye and locked it, her ‘cheeks’ as Mini put it shone into his stare; her beautiful pussy captured his mind and robbed his lust of women away. He had to have one. Not Kramia, he would never touch another man’s woman, but rather he would find another tank, another Russian at that. The thought of another T-34 tank on his lap erected his wrench and it wanted to turn some gears. He forced his feet to back away, he strained to release his gaze off of Kramia’s sensitive area, and he broke contact and hurriedly left to go to sleep and dream of naughty Russian tank women.
Mini was barely holding on to his load, Kramia felt this and slowly took him out but before she could pull him completely out her shot his cock back in and came. He filled her mouth with a big load, she was shocked again but she liked how aggressive he was, she slowly pulled out his throbbing cock and stared into his eyes with a naughty glare. A dirty smile came across her face and his sperm were seeping through her teeth. She barely opened her mouth instinctively and the pool of sperm in her mouth made Mini’s shrinking cock flood back to full strength. As she swallowed and licked her lips Mini grabbed her ass.
“Bring me that pussy!” He said in Russian, he pulled her around to his bow and pulled her stern up to his elevated mantle. Her pussy was dripping hot fluids onto his deck and it was bleeding heat like a furnace. He licked and lapped at her pussy, shoving Kramia straight into nirvana. She started breathing heavily as he used his lips to gather hers and gently nibble on her clit. She instinctively grabbed his cock with her hands and tendrils and started jerking him.
“OH fuck yes! Eat me, Mir! Eat me! Eat me like a bitch!” She yelped, the pain of his teething mixed with the ecstasy of their loving and she had never been hornier. She furiously stroked his cock, it’s huge and warm size made her pussy plead that it be forced inside her. She wanted it, she wanted to be fucked, she wanted to be bent, bent like the bitch she was and fucked raw. She felt his cock start throbbing and soon Mini came again, squirting his load all over her belly but she didn’t care, not at all. She shook and quivered and suddenly burst, she wailed into the sky as she came on his face. Her hot juices smothered his face and slipped into his mouth. He did as Kramia did and left it to pool in his mouth. Kramia leapt off of him and grabbed his still oozing cock and put it on her oozing pussy. She turned her turret around and looked at him, his smile had her juices seeping through it, through his teeth she saw a pool of her innards in his mouth, and it made her pussy feel like fire. She couldn’t take any more; she threw herself into his cock and yelped out, “FUCK ME MINI! Bend me like a BITCH and FUCK ME! Fuck me like a dirty whore! Fuck my brains out! Fuck me till I scream in pain!”
“You dirty slut! You’ll feel me yet!” He grabbed her ass with his larger hand manipulators and picked her up. He flexed his dick as he powered his suspension into overdrive. He launched his cock all the way into her, her heat gave him intensity, her tightness gave him motivation, her noises made him stronger, and their love gave him the will. His thrusts were denting her ‘cheeks’ but her screams of ‘it hurts so good’ made him keep it up. He had well enough broken through her cervix and was making damn sure it stayed open forever.
Kramia had never felt like this before, Mini’s intensity was more than enough to please her, and her adjustment that she previously made for his ‘smaller package’ meant that he was absolutely massive. She felt overwhelmed with his size and every hump he made hurt her drive sprockets in the best way. She was moaning and covering her mouth so she didn’t scream. Her vision was a blur but her mind was clear, she saw Mini completely taking what was his and beating her in like she’s always wanted and more. Her voice echoed over the mental picture chanting ‘don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop’ over and over. He started getting bigger, and his size started to hurt, and she realized she was close to cumming. She knew he wasn’t going to care so she didn’t try and hold back. Her pussy went limp and puffy as the orgasm hit her like a train car, she cried as the pain hit her but she cried and begged for more. As she was spraying on Mini’s cock he reached up to her clit and rubbed it with his hand fast and hard, that really got to Kramia. Her moans and groans and cries of pain and pleasure blocked out his ability to recognize that his orgasm had started leaking into her womb. Kramia suddenly started crying out and that alerted Mini that he was close.
“Yes Mir! Fill me! Fill me! Flood my fucking cunt!” He slammed her down on him as he jumped for the hardest boning yet, his steaming load ejected deep into her, she wailed in pleasurable pain and egged him for more. She wanted more of it all, more pain, more sex, more sperm. He pumped deep into her pussy, for a solid minute he filled her with all he had; no more to get in and now it was just sex. Kramia felt Mir’s cock flex, she rose off of him and started caressing his cock. “Mir, baby! Look at it! Look at that pussy! Get it, Mir! Fuck that little cunt!”
“You think I’m out?” He slammed her back down on his cock giving her another shock. “Massage it!” Kramia instantly gripped his cock, she squeezed with all her might and had her muscles flow and flex all over his cock. He simply moaned in satisfaction and tendril fucked her ass pipes; he got deep again, way into her engine where he hurt her into another orgasm. They continued with this aggressive sex for about two hours after. Once Mini had his fill and Kramia was quivering and her pussy was numb with pain they stopped. Mini returned to his comforting personality and gently took Kramia off his bow, her stern and his bow had been brutalized, dented, bent, and covered in one another’s love juices. As Kramia was placed on the ground she felt Mini’s massive load swishing and churning inside her, it made her feel extremely giddy and proud. Her drive wheels mounted in the rear of the tank were bent out because of their loving and that made them near useless, they worked but were extremely inefficient. Mini drug her to his side again and held her tight. She spun her turret to his bow where his limp cock sat in the cool air still covered in his sperm and her cooling love juice. She grabbed it and sucked it clean one last time. As they readjusted to the cold and sat together shivering Mini asked Kramia how she wanted it to look like.
“Well,” she started, she put her hands on her hull like she was already swelling, “I want it to have your hull strength, my angles, our suspension. I want it to have a better engine than both of us, and maybe even a better gun. I hope it has your vision, and your commitment.”
“So it can deal with my bitching.” Mini kissed her gun.
“Well I think it’ll have the best mother in the world.”
“Shut up!” She smacked his hull side. “If you’re trying to get in here again it’s working.” He held her again; he said he was done for the night. “Well Mir, if you ever want some, ever, you’ve earned it. Just ask and you will get some, babe.” Mini dressed her stern again the way she’s always had it; a spare track link over her port, and he helped lull her to sleep. Shortly after he joined her in the dream world.
Fin Ch 42
Well here’s the next chapter, life as a special captive. They aren’t normal POWs because of what they are.
Rosa lurked in the woods, the morning sun shone through the trees and casted broken shadows on her body. She was difficult to see with her white camouflage breaking her outline even more; the perfect cover. She stalked in the bushes waiting for some poor bastards to try their luck with her. She spotted engine trails reaching over the building. She turned her body slowly and aimed her 88 canon a meter ahead of the building; she entered what the tank destroyers call ‘hunter vision’ where the outer eyes close and the eyes in the mantle open. These eyes had the measurements, adjustments and piercing vision that was best for sniping. She switched between her eye pairs to figure a range before settling in with the hunter eyes. The first tank appeared, an ‘Easy Two’ with a long barreled 76 millimeter, it had flecks of green on the body mostly white and-eyes scanning around on the turret. She stopped, she saw on the antenna a little red rag tied to, and as it passed it had spots on the back of the turret. That was most certainly Chuck. She popped out of hunter vision and tore through the birch trees ahead of her. “Chuck!” She screamed, she tore down the hill putting every ounce of energy into her drive. She hit a crater and bounced off the ground but she didn’t care; she crashed to the ground and once she regained her grip to the Earth bolted for Chuck. Joshua commanded the group not to fire as soon as he heard her scream ‘Chuck’ and stood in the cupola. He spun around to see her with her eyes wide and mouth agape. He jumped out and stood on the engine deck. Chuck saw she wasn’t slowing down, he lurched forward to absorb the blow but when she did collide with them she grabbed ahold of Chuck and Joshua and held on to them. Everyone else in the group was stunned and shocked, terrified even. Joshua and Rosa began kissing; they kissed and didn’t break the kiss for an eternity. When they did finally break she kissed Chuck’s stern. “I’ve missed you two so much!” One of the other tank commanders radioed in.
“Ey-uh, I think we should go ‘n’ get on home.”
“Yeah, I think we should, too.” Joshua said. He was led into Rosa where a little present met him. Chuck led the way back, Rosa followed him and the other Shermans followed and watched her. On the distant way back Rosa and Joshua bonded like the last time they met. Her vaginal tendril leaked fluid as he rubbed her clit and lips while she undressed him and rubbed his hard cock. They were about to become one when she spat out her shell and stowed it. “What?”
“Don’t wanna shoot Chuck in the back, do we?” She lurched her pussy onto him, smothering his cock inside of her. She gasped and sputtered along. Joshua didn’t hump her or draw out, he sat in her driver’s seat still attached at the hip to her and he drove her. She relaxed and massaged his cock with her inner muscles as he closed his eyes, confident nothing would happen. They stayed interlocked until they got back to base. While on the way, Joshua his biggest load ever into Rosa, and she felt very special when she found out just how much he came. They quickly dressed him as Patton came out to meet Rosa. Joshua introduced her to Patton in the bluntest way possible.
“She’s got my baby in there.” Patton chuckled.
“I’ll be dammed to figure out how that happened already.” They interrogated her; she was wanted so badly to study the birth of a tank child, but what they came to find out was that she actually wasn’t pregnant. It crushed Rosa’s spirits, all that time she thought she was growing them a child and she wasn’t, she felt like she had disappointed Joshua greatly.
“Oh no no no no no no, I’m not disappointed. Rosa, it didn’t work the first time, so what? We can try again, baby.” He kissed her, she grinned.
“If you really want a child I could open that cervix you have inside, or we could go again tonight.” She held him against her upper plate.
“We could do both, just to be sure.”
“Do you really want this child, Rosa?”
“As long as it’s with you.” They went at it again that night in the woods, first he opened her inner cervix and let go of a load just as big as the one before inside of her there, and then he opened her hull cervix and came a load slightly less than the one inside. Either way he busted inside her cervix, they crossed their fingers and prayed for it to work.
The next day they met Marion, Hansel, Whacker, and Meats doing their new jobs: teachers. Hansel and Whacker were standing in front; being the most experienced they knew best how a Tiger was used, and how it was killed. Meats had some ammunition that Marion would use with him. Marion was the example and she was accompanied by another tank, a Tiger I. Hansel was speaking in English while describing his subject matter. Rosa and Joshua listened in while they taught the eager American boys.
“This is a Royal Tiger as you all know it; the tank to my left is a Tiger One. They are both very capable, very destructive, and very armored. Let’s talk about the Tiger One first.” Hansel said. Whacker took over.
“The Tiger One has about four inches of armor here, here, and here,” he pointed to the upper plate and the mantle then the lower plate, “there’s only about two and a half inches here but because of how it’s angled nothing will get through here.” He pointed to the hood of the Tiger. “The only thing that stands a chance at penetrating this armor is a high caliber anti-tank gun. Such as on the Firefly. Otherwise do not try to fight the Tigers from the front.” He walked over to Marion. “This right here is seven inches, nothing will get through. The plate is only about five and a half inches thick itself, a mighty thick plate that’s hard to crack, but because of this angle there is no chance anything can bust this.” He was resting on Marion’s upper plate; he crouched down and pointed to her lower next. “This is the same thickness as the Tiger’s front, but it, too, is angled. If you have and AT gun, if this is your only angle on it, shoot here. A well-placed shot here will stop this beast in its treads. The same can be said for the Tiger One. Both have their transmissions placed here.” He stood up and pointed to the turret, specifically the streak on Marion’s face from a Sherman long ago. “You all see that? Yes? That’s what will happen if you try your luck on the turret.” He pointed to a kill stripe. “See that? That’s what’ll happen to you if you try that.” He let it sink in. “The side armor is only as thick as a Panzer four’s front, yes, but again, it is angled on the Royal Tiger, and curved on both.” He grabbed a stick and tapped on Marion’s faceplate. “That son of a bitch right there is straight up seven inches. Don’t try your luck here, or anywhere on the front of these. You do not have the guns for it.” He swirled his fingers and Marion and Tiger turned opposite directions to display their sides. “This is how you want to catch your Tigers, their thin at their sides, and very vulnerable. Here is where all ammo is stored on these tanks.” He pointed right below the turret ring. “Here is the fuel,” he pointed to the hull behind the ammo storage, “and the rest is cabin and equipment. Be wary! These turrets aren’t as fast as your Sherman turrets but they will catch you faster than you think.” Hansel snapped his fingers and the turrets turned as the engines revved as loud as ever. Both tanks got their turrets to their broadside in two seconds. They continued on with the teachings, they finished up giving a detailed description of the tanks and their capabilities before Hansel let Meats explain the capabilities of the gun, the round, and the different types of shells and how they sound as they fly by you. After that Hansel talked about the ways to use a Tiger most effectively and what the Americans should do if they are caught in the jaws. There were many different ways he explained to get to the same point, blow the tracks, get around the gun, get close, and put round after round into the sides and rear. He said to start a fire and the crew will bail, penetrate the tank and they’ll keep firing, kill the crew and they’re dead, hit the ammo and, well, watch the fireworks. The whole thing lasted an hour with the lecture, questions, and summaries. One of the last questions asked was ‘what if there’s one of those?’ The questioner pointed to Rosa in the back. Hansel’s answer was simple.
“Pray it doesn’t see you.” That made Rosa smile and the American students shiver. They wrapped everything up and the Americans left, hopefully with the knowledge to keep them alive. Right after the instruction Whacker and Meats went to teach Americans how to operate captured German equipment while Hansel and Marion, Joshua and Rosa, and Mez and Zwei had their daily physicals.
They all checked out normal, the three men had a man doctor and the three female tanks had a female doctor. Rosa didn’t want her vaginas to be touched; she insisted that they checked in the morning and that everything was normal, she was taking no chances with the pregnancy. After the physicals Cindy came by, she said she hurt right above the edge of her bow’s nose. “It’s probably growing pains.” Marion said, the male doctor disagreed.
“No, no. That’s not how machines grow. That area, that organ, whatever you call it, that’s the last to grow. Once her body is fully developed then that will start to grow and develop.” Marion didn’t understand. “Well we don’t know why but all previous studies found that the reproductive means grow last. We don’t know why.”
“But I’ve seen her oil, she has it there.”
“It is there but the eggs are not. Say, and God forbid but if she was.., if she was raped, and they penetrated into her womb, she wouldn’t become pregnant. Not until she is a completely grown woman. I know it’s vulgar but it is true, take Geoff, he has a sack but no testicles. Not yet. So on that they don’t have a drive or desire for sex or any gender or anything of the sorts. They’re even more innocent than human children.” Hansel felt depressed again, what the doctor said about innocent children reminded him of Anton. Marion tucked him away in his chair and held him tight.
“Don’t worry, baby, Anton’s doing a lot better now.” She was holding Hansel and rocking him side to side. Rosa and Joshua were talking to Zwei and Mez about pregnancy, and Hansel’s distress made Marion wonder where Banker was and how he was doing. Marion looked around and noticed that Tiger was also gone. She remembered yesterday they were talking about something and they were quite involved, she figured maybe they were alone together. “are you alright, Cindy?” Marion asked.
“She’s fine, just a little wear and tear with her transmission, she out grew its power. Duster and Dusty would be amazed at how big she’s gotten.” She looked solemn, the doctor did.
“Was that..,” the doctor nodded. Marion nodded and backed away, off to find Meats and Whacker and teach Americans how to use German equipment. Along the way Marion ran into Tiger. “Tiger have you seen Banker?”
“Yeah, he’s down by the radio post with Betty Rhodes.”
“Our living Pershing tank. She’s really nice.” She leaned in to Marion, “I think they have something going on.” Marion looked at her wide eyed. “You didn’t hear it from me.” They moved along, Marion passed by and saw the Pershing; it was the type that attacked her the night they left. She couldn’t help but grin when she saw Banker tucked up under her gun, and then she saw the marks on the mantle; it was the exact same Pershing that attacked them. She didn’t understand how Banker went from terrified to longing because of that tank. Nonetheless Betty Rhodes and Banker waved. Marion waved back but moved by a gear higher than when she approached. U.S. infantry would always stare at her, they stared at Rosa, too, but they felt like family around Tiger, Zwei and Mez and their kid. It made Marion and her crew and Rosa feel like outsiders, and rightfully so. Marion linked up with Meats and Whacker and they continued with their jobs. Later on Geoff showed up pulling Cindy behind him.
“Mommy!” She yelled, “Mommy look! Geoff and me are a train!” In unison they made the chugga-chugga noise as they made rounds around Marion.
“I see that, you guys are a great train. Why’s Geoff towing you around? Haven’t you been towed enough?” Geoff stopped on Cindy’s command and unlatched her from his tail. He swung around and sat next to her. He pulled out some little sticks and gave one to Cindy; they started playing a weird mix of tic-tac-toe and checkers in the dirt road. Marion asked what they were playing.
“Checkers.” Geoff said.
“I’m circles and he’s crosses, he goes first.”
“How do you kind someone?” Hansel asked.
“I put a line through my cross and she puts a dot in her circle.” They continued playing; Betty came up behind them and grabbed Geoff and said ‘boo’. Cindy and he jumped and and Geoff instantly knew who it was. “Betty! I hate it when you do that!”
“There’s nothing wrong with a good scare.”she poked his little turret hatches with her finger as he scowled at her. Banker shook his head ‘no’ as he sat under her gun. “So why were you towing Cindy?”
“My gear changer hurts a lot. Mrs. Hart said to keep off it as it grew. So Geoff is taking me around.” Cindy looked at Banker in his little spot and her face lit up. “Banker do you still have that top!?” She exclaimed, bouncing on her scissor suspension. Banker thought and nodded.
“It’s under my chair.” Marion swept under his chair and found it. She pulled it out; he never did cut the corners out. It was a square top with a rounded point at the bottom. “It’s called a dreidel, it’s a Jewish toy and game.” He explained the game to them; they looked at the blank sides as he explained that each side had one letter on it. Each letter represented a word of a phrase for good fortune. Banker drew the symbols on and they played together, he, Geoff, Cindy, and Betty all played. Marion, Hansel, Meats, and Whacker all continued their work and instruction. Whacker asked Banker how he doesn’t have any work. He didn’t know, all he knew is that sooner or later someone was going to teach him how to drive Betty. How he knew that was from Betty’s mouth.
Days passed, they did the same chores every day. They were teachers, janitors, Marion was used as an artillery tractor sometimes, they underwent various physicals and tests, and they were also used as loaders. They learned that Zwei actually had another child, a baby humorph boy named Ronald, and that’s what Zwei did everyday was take care of him and the kids. Tiger lent her hands occasionally but mostly she ferried shells around, moving spent shells to the rear and fresh ones to the front. Rosa was used as a sniper here and there, not like a tank hunter but like an SPG, she’d take down unstable bell towers or blow through reinforced barriers like an assault gun. Mez was a Physical Trainer, he ran the workouts every day. Katelyn and Chuck were starting to see less and less action because they were taking care of Cindy more, that was what they were supposed to do but Cindy always found a way to stay with Marion or Hansel for the day while they worked, when she wasn’t playing with Geoff. Betty was getting a new crew, her old one was found and reprimanded for their cowardly actions and sent back to the Sherman. The main candidates for Betty’s new crew are Chuck’s old one. Banker was being instructed on how to drive her but the likelihood was dropping very fast. Betty and he felt troubled and one day she panicked; she really wanted Banker as her driver. Her only reason she willingly put out was that he was there for her when she needed someone most. One day Hansel and Marion had down time between jobs; they were sitting together looking at the changes time had done to them.
“Look Hansel, you finally have some hair on your face.” She felt his stubble in her hands and moved them to his head. “And your hair has gotten longer.”
“I know, my razor is too dull to shave, I need a new one. My hair takes forever to grow, the fact it’s taken me three months to grow this hair out on my head should be a giveaway. Whacker gets haircuts almost every week.”
“No, Hansel, don’t cut it. I like the way you look. I love your hair.” She was playing with his hair, his half locks of hair.
“Marion, after this war I’ll grow it out for you one year.” She wrapped some arms around him and closed her eyes day dreaming of how he’ll look with longer hair.
“I don’t think I’ll let you cut it, then.” Later on Hansel showered and shaved and afterwards he got a neat haircut, a little long for Marion. He was with Marion when Rosa and Joshua came back from the front again. He noticed Rosa had a gloomy look on her face and a bounce mark on her front. She was used against her own. Hansel felt Marion shudder, the Americans didn’t trust them enough yet but she knew eventually that she would be used against her own as well. She waited for Tiger to come by and Hansel and her flagged down Tiger and asked the question neither wanted to hear.
“When are we going to be used?” Tiger thought, searching back in her memories.
“Well, I was used a little during my time in Afrika against the allies, but once they captured me and trained a crew they threw me into Italy. That was about a month after operation Torch. It might be as little as three months, maybe less.” Marion held on to Hansel.
“Yes. Maybe they won’t replace yours.” Hansel reached for Marion’s hand as Tiger went back to work. Soon they went back to their jobs when the supplies arrived.
The next day there was an interesting haul that Marion and Rosa and Tiger were sent to collect. They moved close to where they met Betty Rhodes with an escort of infantry and a Chaffee light tank. Marion and Rosa both had olive drab green tarps with white stars painted on covering their Iron Crosses and additional tarps over the top and bow. All that so there would be no mistaking them for Germans supporters. Rosa was in the lead with Marion following and Tiger behind her, Tiger had her own crew that usually were messengers for headquarters but for this operation they were told that their engines were the only things that could haul the target. Rosa edged around a hill and suddenly halted. “You fucking idiot.” Mini-Rommel was caught in a collapsed sewer system and Kramia was at his flank with a white cloth.
“It’s not my fault.” That was the first thing he said as Marion lined up with Rosa.
“He fucked it up.” Kramia set the record straight. She got her steel cables off and Mini got his off, Rosa and Marion opened their cable hitches and waited for Mini’s to be ready.
“They told us a day after you guys left, Inbred, Eryka, Frau and Canine. They read us Cindy’s note.” His bow was jutting up over the ground with his ass wedged in the sewer fault line, Kramia had smartly positioned herself in the fault where she can drive out on the rubble that fell at the non-collapsed end. As Mini hooked his cables up to his hitches and Marion and Rosa hitched to themselves Kramia looped her cables under Mini’s stern and drove out and around behind him before she hooked up. The infantry and the Chaffee accompanied Tiger as they covered the operation. Kramia and Rosa worked out how they were going to dislodge Mini, in a sling so that he could get his tracks to help climb out, and they began. They coordinated slowly, and nearly dropped Mini twice on Kramia’s end.
“Mir when the fuck did you get this heavy!?” Her treads were slipping in the ice road as she pulled back to lift Mini out. Mini was finally dislodged and instead of unhook the three German tanks hauled Kramia in and out of the fault. After they unhooked the infantry gathered again. Kramia gestured to them and patted her engine deck. No one dared get near her. She wasn’t used to that, usually-especially in the Russian army-the infantry raced each other for a free ride on the tanks. A few climbed onto Tiger and two on the Chaffee but the rest would rather walk than climb onto the others. As they left the city Joshua had persuaded the infantry to climb on to Rosa and Marion at least. They very cautiously piled on, fitting as many as they could on the tanks. Kramia and Mini were hitched together and were also tied to Marion and trailed by Tiger. The two of them felt like prisoners in shackles and chains. They were quiet on the drive to the American base; they held hands as they crossed into uncertainty. No one knew what Patton, or anyone of authority, was going to do with them. Joshua knew how much the doctors and scientists loved to toy and learn about the machines, so he hoped that their curiosity would keep the living machines around. When they did arrive the scientists had a field day. They were very excited about a relationship between different anatomies of the machines, i.e. things like organ positioning and anatomical function. They were also intrigued in the Germans successfully replacing Kramia’s gun with no loss in senses. They ran tests on her and Mini, and focused greatly on Kramia’s mounted 88 and dismounted 85 and the old mantle strapped over the 85’s gun breach. It took up the whole length of her hull with its entirety. The scientists wanted a composition of the two; in a sense they wanted Kramia to get pregnant with Mini’s child. Kramia and Mini weren’t sure, Kramia still wanted to fight but as long as she wasn’t for the Russians. Mini was conflicted on the inside, the mix of anger and depression filled him and wrapped itself around his gut like a child playing with the mud. They were already studying a machine child the birth of tank form by a person, and one of human form, and one of two tanks alike, they wanted a composition of two separate tank designs. Kramia said that there were other couples among the Germans; she told them of Jäger and Fritz, Porscha and Ferdi, the Hummel twins, Marion’s sister Dora, and Canine and Frau. The scientists were deeply intrigued by the tank destroyers and turret tank relationships, they told Patton about them, begging to push harder before the tanks could escape. Patton liked living machines, but he didn’t like the idea of hoarding them in his army, but at the same time liked the thought of ridding the battlefield of them. He knew just how strong a living machine was on the battlefield, if this blow could convince the German command that they were not as effective as they actually were he could get the Germans to cease production of living machines and his living tanks would be unrivaled in capability. He ordered a massive counter attack, he wanted not only Bastogne back but he wanted the POWs of the 101st back.
Soon the reports back were impressive, the Germans were told of American progress. Hansel and Marion both knew that this German assault that carried every hope of victory with it was a failure. Germany surely would lose. They advanced with the front line; they came across one of the dead metal Tiger tanks that were caught in a field. The tank had burnt out and was caught with the gun over the front right sprocket wheel. Four penetrations on the stern end and one on the turret loading hatch and one on the opposite side. A group of five captured German infantrymen were hacking at the frozen ground using shovels with G.I.s around them over watching. The Tiger’s crew were laid out, all five dead, behind the Tiger and in front of their final resting place. As the German captured tanks passed, the German diggers were staring at them, staring with blank faces covered in soot and dirt. They were battered and beaten, their faces showed regret and a desertion of hope; the literal face of defeat. Hansel felt like a traitor, he looked at the unfortunate Tiger crew and mouthed I’m sorry to them. They only sat there, stiff, cold, dead. Pale and colorless eyes gazed up to the heavens as if they were staring at God. Blood covered their faces, giving their faces their last color it would have, their black Panzer uniforms were charred, and the entire right side of the midsection of the man on the end was blown away, his guts were frozen inside him and his spine was cracked like a dried snake skin. That was only the beginning of a long, long string of death, Axis and allied, soldier and civilian, man and woman, adult and child. They were now a spectator to war, walking through the aftermath of it all, and not being ones to do anything about it.
Fin Ch 41
Here it is, chapter 40! This is a lengthy chapter to say the least but it’s filled with good stuff! Have fun with it and
Marion gathered the three tanks around a map in the snow, only now was she going to tell them where they were going. She explained the plan exactly how herself and Chuck orchestrated it. First they would act like they’re taking Cindy out to ‘set an example’ to slip by Idek, then they would claim that they were going to put Cindy to work at the fuel lines to slip by the outer guards. After that anyone they come across they are going to say that they were put on patrol at last minute with the Sherman as a disruption tactic, the whole time they’re making a southeasterly movement through the woods. They’ll travel through the woods for a few hours then cut towards the American’s assault. They should be able to time their arrival at dawn. Chuck said that the units were warned not to shoot any white flag vehicles but to surround and disarm them, what that meant was up to the captors. Cindy couldn’t hold still, she shivered in anticipation, she’ll be back with the Americans and she might see Mez and Zwei and her good friend Geoff. Rosa couldn’t wait to hold Joshua in her arms again, maybe even temper what their potential child would look like. Only Marion, Hansel, Whacker and Meats weren’t excited. Banker was excited but only because he was allowed to be the one driving this time. That was because Marion would be focused on scanning her areas for anything. Before they left Marion and the boys all wanted to at least tell Inbred the truth, then maybe later he could tell the others the truth. They tracked down Eryka’s house and knocked. Cindy said she wanted to write a thank-you note to all the others who helped her and were nice to her so Whacker gave her a paper and pen and off she went to write. Meanwhile the others knocked on the door; there was hesitation as Inbred opened the door.
“What’s going on?” They were face value with him. Eryka came to the door and opened it fully.
“R-Really?” The group nodded in disappointment, sadly it was true. By then Cindy had come forth, she moved up to Eryka and handed her the folded note.
“That’s for everyone, even Fritz.” Eryka looked at the note and back at Cindy, Cindy sat there, a humble kid to a bunker of a person. Eryka patted Cindy and wished them luck. With that they left. They never encountered Idek but they did meet Allison and told her the excuse for Idek, she hesitated letting them go. As Rosa passed she saw that Allison was holding back tears as best she could.
Eryka unfolded the note, she had Inbred read it, it was in English, and he read it aloud to Eryka, Frau, Canine, and an eavesdropping Allison.
“Thank you for what you have done. I’ll miss you all. Marion is taking me to the Americans again and I wanted to tell you all that I think you are really nice people. You all helped me, you all cared for me, and you all are my friends. General Patton always said that Hitler was a mad dog and that he had an army of scum but he is wrong. You are not scum and I think if you came to our side he would see that you are not scum. Don’t fight any more. That is why my mom and dad died is because they went to fight. I was going to a special Doctor to help me and then I was going back when Fritz got me. I don’t want you to die like my mom and dad. If you can’t win then sur-and-ar..?” Inbred wasn’t sure what she was trying to spell out, “surrender, she wants to surrender instead of fighting,” he went back to reading, “Patton really likes us living cars and tanks and he said he wouldn’t hurt you if you gave up. He said he would help study and understand you and me and Marion and Rosa. Please don’t fight. From Cindy.” He put the paper down.
“Oh, baby.” Frau said in a depressed mood. “I wish her the best of luck out there.” Canine knocked on her side and looked into her eyes.
“Perk up dear, we’ve been through a few years of this, I think we can get through a few more. You’ll see her again.” He kissed her cabin and smiled at her.
“So, what do we do?” Eryka said.
“Well, we have to fight, but when the time comes I think we should make Cindy happy and surrender, at least then we’ll not be killed.” Inbred said, he looked to all the others. Eryka nodded to him, Frau and Canine nodded to each other. “It’s settled then, when should we tell everyone?” They thought.
“Tomorrow,” Allison said, they all jumped. “We should tell them tomorrow. By then Cindy should be safe in the Allies’s hands.”
“You’re not mad?”
“I’m upset, aggravated that Marion and Rosa lied to me and said they were killing Cindy, but I’m not mad.” She approached and hugged Frau. Frau was the go-to tank when you needed grandma. They all went back to sleep. They’d all need their strengths for the next day; it’d be Eryka’s first daytime mission.
Marion, Cindy, and Rosa crept just outside of the city, there was more terrain resistance than anyone had anticipated and Marion was soon growing scared about running out of fuel. Rosa thought that she might be able to find some easier terrain and went off looking for a route, leaving Marion and Cindy to keep trekking. It was a gloomy night with little starlight, clouds covered any hopes that the moon would shine through, and leaving the snow a seemingly endless ocean locked in place. Marion looked through an alley and saw something big, bigger than any American she’s ever seen. It was unmistakably green and American, and unlike anything the Germans had produced. She inched closer, taking control from Banker. “Goddammit” was his response. All eyes were in the view ports and focusing on this thing in the alley. She didn’t have her lights on; neither did the other tank, it moved back behind a large building. Marion felt something inside her, it was a mix of fear and courage, she softly shook, Cindy saw this and got scared, she fought her fear to stay right behind Marion. Marion squeezed her way through the alley, the nose of her hull was centimeters from the adjacent street, and her gun was trained as far to the left as possible, ready to kill. She turned her light on, one lone lamp sitting on her bow. It barely reached four meters but something was better than nothing. German lights have special covers over them to direct the light to a concentrated point so that there was no all-around signal for flanking enemies to spot it. Germany is the only country that does this. Marion pulled forward and was instantly hit across her bow. This hurt more than anything; it hurt more than the Tiger did. Marion’s heart dropped. The shot passed clean through the building to Marion’s right, Marion lurched forward, she had to see what it was, she had to. She kept Cindy away from her and peered around the corner. A long and smoking gun, thicker than her own, was pointing at her flank. She acted quickly, turning her hull, smashing through the walls, and firing off a shot into the turret. Marion trembled as the armor sparked and the shot soared to the sky. It bounced. Marion backed up a little as the American fired again; it stuck right above her mantle on her thickest slab and bounced away. Marion felt that her first shot was just bad luck, she disciplined herself and aimed and fired into their mantle. It bounced. Hansel, Banker, Whacker and Meats were also starting to panic, Cindy saw this fight unfold and she saw the fright in Marion’s eyes. Cindy felt so much emotion now, fear, anger, courage, and others that she had not known; she saw Marion’s tormentor and a strike of courage and anger overcame her. She rushed at the side of the tank nearly three times her size and rammed its side while punching and hitting it with her arms. Marion yelled at her to get back but Cindy didn’t listen. Marion saw two seams open on the corners of the turret and suddenly they became eyes and they peered at the useless attempt to stop its work. Marion screamed at the American to leave Cindy alone, to take her back to Patton if anything else. The tank’s eyes locked onto Marion, it fired again, this shot was higher and it bounced off the angled roof of Marion’s turret. Marion fired once again, HE, in attempts to hurt the tank and shake its focus up. The shot got caught between the mantle and the hull, it blew up and spewed shrapnel back towards Marion. The tank smiled a wicked grin. Marion felt completely hopeless, she couldn’t hurt this tank anywhere, and she doesn’t know what this tank could do to her. She nearly cried, her inner arms wrapped around her friends and her lover, Hansel locked his hands in hers, Meats hugged her back to comfort her, Banker passed out from fear, and Whacker tried to move his wrapped arm for the alcohol in his reserve bottle. They all watched as the smile on the tank grew even more wicked, time seemed to stop, Marion shut her eyes.
The building to the right of the tanks charged the American, it surged forth like a demon breaking free, through the rubble came a gun longer than anything seen before, tank skirts stuck out all over the armor of this beast, the bricks and glass and wood and metal of the building did not phase this creature. Fire covered the front of it, illuminating the street and causing chaos in the area. The crew of the American tank didn’t know what to do; the biggest gun they’ve ever seen just ran through a building. They bailed, being a Sherman crew once they knew all too well that American armor wouldn’t stand up to that gun. The tank was petrified, stunned, amazed and shocked all at once. It froze as it watched its crew leave it to die; they leapt to the cover of the darkness and disappeared.
“Wh-what?” Was all the American tank said. Marion heard a female voice in English and opened her eyes slowly. Every hatch on her foe was open, the inside was dark, and the tank was trembling.
“Marion! What are you doing out here!?” Fritz asked surprised. Marion looked over to Fritz; he was covered in soot and rubble with his gun muzzle pressed against the spot where the Americans usually keep their ammo on the American tank.
“Hi, Fritz.” Cindy shakily said, moving to Marion to receive and give comfort. Marion welcomed her into her arms and let go of her friends, keeping her loved ones embraced.
“Hey Cindy.” Edwards opened his hatch and came out.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Edwards said before Marion started to explain; Banker came to and needed some cool air because Marion vented engine heat into the cabin and that was starting to make him too hot. He opened the hatch and stood up, stretched, and looked at the tank in front of him. It was beautifully crafted, the curves and angles just spoke to him and called forth his lust, he felt warm looking into its eyes and suddenly the thought came to his mind ‘oh please don’t be a guy’ and startled him. He never really wanted to be with a machine since he learned of Marion, but all of a sudden he felt like she could be the one, if she was a she.
“That’s when we ran into her.” That was all Banker heard Marion say and noticed Marion gesture to the American tank. Banker’s face lit up, hope flooded him. He decided to try his best English on her.
“Hi there, I’m Banker, do have you a name yet?” His English was understandable but far from perfect. He didn’t use or practice nearly as much as the others used it.
“Betty.” The tank stammered out, her gaze affixed forward and unmoving. Banker didn’t like the lack of eye contact. He snapped his fingers and waved his arm. She still sat there with her gaze locked. He frowned. He really wanted her attention; he climbed out and walked to her.
“Hey! Panzer! Hey! Down!” He jumped up and down waving his arms. It didn’t work, all she said was ‘Betty’ again. Banker was getting frustrated. He carefully approached her and climbed up onto her hull on the driver’s side. He waved his hand past her eye; she was locked in the thousand yard stare. He crouched in front of her eye. It was big and green, it had a similar pattern to Marion’s brown eyes, and it didn’t move or blink no matter what he did. He looked into her driver’s empty position, it was driven a lot like Marion was with sticks but it had more levers and dials. He wanted to learn all about what they all were; he wanted to drive her around. He looked back to her, her mouth was agape, her razor teeth were sharp and white, her engine was steadily running; he found everything about her yet beautiful. Banker figured she needed someone, her crew seemed to abandon her in her time of need and she was in shock, she desperately needed someone to be there for her. He hesitated at first but manned up and hugged her mantle. His warm hands and face on her body snapped Betty out of her state; she looked around and saw him hugging her. She didn’t think it was right but it felt good, her body started to calm down with him on her mantle. Two arms came out of her open driver hatch and sluggishly placed themselves on his back. Banker’s heart raced, he knew that she could easily push her arms through his body and crush his organs but he trusted her. His body said that there was no harm here, no danger.
“I’m Betty, who are you?” She said, Banker already knew her name and already told her his but he went with it. It took him a few seconds to decipher what she said and then translate it to German.
“Banker.” He said, he dropped his crouch to his knees and readjusted. She grabbed him, as if not to let him leave yet. Their eyes met, Banker got the eye contact he’d been looking for the whole time and now he didn’t know what to say. There was an awkward pause before he spoke. “You how?”
Just use this, think to me.
How do I-?
Just like this. I’m Betty Rhodes; at least that’s what I was named before this. Is your name really Banker?
No, but I like it, I like your name, it’s very nice. Banker and Betty used this for the rest of the two minutes. Marion convinced Fritz and Edwards to let them go. Fritz apologized for Cindy’s gun and they backed away. They kept close eyes on Betty, though. Marion rounded up Cindy and a Banker that didn’t want to leave anymore and they left Betty there. She kept a good hold on Banker’s mind though, and they continued to talk even after Banker left.
They pushed on with the plan, Rosa caught up with them and said that she found a way but Marion knew she wouldn’t get there, she had wasted too much fuel to reach it, and she was just going to push towards the American line. Rosa understood, she beckoned Cindy to join her.
“No! I’m not leaving mommy!” She cried, she latched onto Marion and buried her face into Marion’s side. “I won’t leave Marion! She’s my mom now!”
“Cindy,” Marion was able to pry Cindy away enough to look into her eyes, “Cindy, I love you, but you should go with Rosa, she can take care of you until you reach the Americans. Please, Cindy, go with Rosa.”
“No!” She shook her turret; she pulled herself to Marion’s side again and gave it her all to stay against her. “I won’t let you die!” She had tears rolling down her face, she was gripping Marion’s steel cables and grabbed onto whatever she could reach. Marion couldn’t say no, it meant too much for Cindy; she knew she’d regret it later but Marion let Cindy stay with her. Rosa tried one last time to get Cindy to leave with her but Cindy persisted. Marion held Cindy’s hand from there on as they traveled across the country; they left Rosa to the original route with her own white banner to surrender with. They were traveling through farmland and hedge groves, the terrain weren’t very forgiving and it took its toll on Marion’s fuel. She felt her fuel depleting, felt it slowly drain, inch by inch she tracked every little bit, counting numbers in her head, slowly the distance count decreased, the time left decreased, the odds against them increased, the likely hood of failure increased. She could tell anyone where she had just been, she couldn’t describe the land, any landmarks, and any detail to any extent including the vague was irreconcilable to her. The only thing she knew at the moment was that the distance she had left in her fuel was in the yards. From miles to kilometers to meters to yards, that’s what she could tell someone. She started sweating nervously, water condensed on her metal skin and rolled out between the Zimmerit paint folds.
20.., 19.., 18..,
Her gaze narrowed on a distant house, her mind was slowly counting down as she tried pushing for more.
11.., 10.., 9..,
She pushed all she had, sucked out the fumes left over, she put in everything.
4.., 3.., 2..,
It wasn’t enough.
Her hull lurched to a halt, the engine instantly stopped making its usual harmonious rumble, Marion grunted and strained to use her own body’s energy to drive ahead, her engine can’t turn on the input, and it makes a grinding noise alerting Cindy that Marion’s out. Cindy panicked and in desperation she threw herself against Marion’s rear and put forth all her effort, when she saw that her tracks weren’t even moving she turned on her engine, it sputtered to life for probably the tenth time in its existence and instantly roared; a G.M. engine sounding off proud. Her treads ripped through the snow, ice, dirt and mud creating a fishtail of it behind her.
“Don’t strain yourself, Cindy! Stop! I’m done for.” She was nearly crying, Cindy started breaking down again. She’s lost one family, she was hell bent not to lose another. Cindy blocked her out; she kept pushing and pushing until she was exhausted. She suddenly stopped, crashed to the ground and cried. Marion drug her around to her side and held her. “It’s okay, sweetie, it’s okay.”
“I don’t wanna lose you!” Marion’s crew got out, no point staying in there. They looked around, there were houses around and the houses had some machinery and they hoped that they might find some diesel fuel in there. Meats and Hansel had just dropped to the snow when Marion spotted something and instantly grabbed them all.
“Is that really-”
“Americans!” Cindy yelled with a big smile on her. A wall of green marched forth over the hills. Marion grabbed the stick and white flag and stuck it on her turret.
“Cindy when they get us don’t move, stay still or they might hurt us-and you! Understand?”
“Yes, mommy.” Hansel, Meats, Whacker and Banker were lined up next to Marion and Cindy, they were shivering, not from cold- but from the chilling touch of death. Cindy smiled at them big and wide, they tried to fake a smile but Cindy knew they were scared. “Don’t worry, they won’t hurt us, they’re nice people. They’re just like you guys.” They all winced; they were not that nice, Cindy and Chuck were outliers. Usually a tank team would take no prisoners. Marion was sweating even more, she hoped that her boys would be safely tucked inside her and out of possible gunfire, this was the nightmare that haunted her. Her crew standing in a line next to her like they are, with a firing squad right there, right there in front of them; fingers on triggers, and rounds in the chambers. Marion was trying not to scream.
Before they knew it they were encircled by some Sherman tanks, halftracks, trucks, jeeps, and infantry. They were all yelling in English- “Get down! Get down on your knees! On your knees!” -they were gesturing with their guns to the ground, whether they understood the screaming or not, they dropped to their knees. Cindy was trying to hold back from doing anything; Marion was shuddering in fear and trying not to scream. A firing squad lined up by the side of a parked Sherman with Thompsons and Garands pointed at the men, Marion visibly covered her mouth and let tears roll down her face. Suddenly the hatch of the Sherman sprang open and a familiar man came out. “Franklin! Heel your dogs, man. I know these ones.” The firing squad went at ease, two still had their Tommies pointed at them. The man jumped down from the loader’s hatch and walked towards them, talking with an Austrian accent.
“Well, well, well. What dogs do we have here?” He looked at their faces; they couldn’t summon the strength to look at him. “The tank whore is still fucking, more than this little-dick mistake, too.” He looked to Marion then Hansel; he walked by and past Meats “this guy must be so muscular his brain curls instead of thinks.” He jested to Meats as he passed by. “The fat pilot,” he walked by Whacker, “and last but not least the Aryan Nazi!” He stopped in front of Banker and looked up to Marion and snapped a command in a darker tone. “Tank whore dump every single shell you have out onto the ground or we’ll strangle them with our steel cables.” Marion did as he commanded, he turned back to Banker as she did so, softly sobbing. “We have ourselves a good Catholic Nazi here, wearing his little cross.” He picked at Banker’s neck chain, he slid it out of Banker’s collar link by link, Banker was convulsing, he turned green, he shook madly. He drew the attention of everyone around him. The American smiled as he saw the centerpiece come to the light, suddenly his face twisted, he looked shocked and breath-taken. He grasped the centerpiece in his hand and cupped it; his eyes darted back and forth from the necklace to Banker who was crying. “You’re a Jew!?!” He dropped the centerpiece; sure enough on Banker’s chest was the Jewish Star of David, six points with the interlaced triangles. His trembling arms dropped from above his head into his lap. The American dropped to his knees and held Banker’s head in his hands while their gazes met. “Why? I left when I could, why didn’t you?” Banker’s lips trembled, Marion held his shoulders. He started crying abruptly.
“I had nowhere to go!” He braced against the American, dropping his head into the other’s shoulder. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” The American urged him to tell more. “My mom married in Jewish, and it was the prominent religion in my house. When Hitler came to power, they sent me to my uncle’s; he was Catholic, and an owner of a lofty bank. That’s how I escaped. I miss you ma and pa! I should have never left you!” He cried to the heavens, the concentration camps shown him where his family ended up. The American rocked him back and forth, the thought of having to leave his family and fight for Hitler made him teary as well. “I got real good at lying, it’s how I stayed alive, how I kept from being found! Damn me to hell for it!” Hansel’s arms slowly fell to his lap, things were making sense now, the reason was there, he knew why Banker was Banker. All of a sudden a jeep rolled up and sitting in the passenger seat was a general, the General George S. Patton. They got everything straight from there. Inevitably they would be forced to fight but only when absolutely necessary or when the Nazi SS are all that’s left to fight, the Americans would try to use them to dissuade the Germans from resisting, but as of their first assignment they would train the new batches of tankers how to take down a Tiger. There were a few other things like some comparative studies with another couple and the effects of passive changes to Hansel’s body and the anatomy of Marion, some stuff that would be awkward but they had to agree, what else could they do? Marion had been checked, they were secretively placed under VERY watchful eyes and they were refueled. Katelyn came forward and looked at Cindy, her eyes instantly zeroed in on the gray circle on Cindy’s barrel. She stared down Marion but saw her gun was way too small to do that, she was still watchful of Marion.
“Hello Cindy, I’ll be taking care of you from now on. Myself and my boyfriend Chuck.” She beckoned Cindy to come with her. Cindy was scared; she gripped onto Marion with all of her might. Marion dropped that side’s suspension and whispered to her.
“SSS-S-SS-S-S-Cindy.” She shakily said, she seemed to come out of her cocoon and she approached Katelyn. All a sudden she backed up back to Marion. “But she’s my mommy now, I don’t want anyone else!” Marion hugged her but pushed her towards Katelyn.
“Cindy, it’ll be okay. I still love you, and I always will.” Cindy wiped tears from her eyes; she inched her way over to Katelyn. She dropped down and got Cindy’s attention.
“It’s okay now, honey, do you wanna go play with me in the snow?” Cindy looked down to the ground with tears streaming down the sides of her turret; she realized that she did lose another family. “Okay. Do you wanna go play with your old friend Geoff?” Cindy perked up, she was still terribly sad but she wanted to see her old friends again. She went stern faced. She backed up and took Marion’s hand, and got her crew aboard, too.
“Now it’s my turn to take you in. Let me show you my friends.” Marion followed Cindy, who followed Katelyn, and they went hand-in-hand all the way to the main forward base was, where Geoff, Zwei, Mez, and Tiger were; Cindy’s old friends. Cindy hugged a Panzer IV F2 about her size when they met. “Hi guys! That’s Whacker, and that’s Meats, and that’s Banker, they’re some of my new friends.” Then she backed up and hugged Marion and Hansel. “And this is Marion and Hansel, they’re my new family!”
Fin Ch 40
Did anyone catch that plot twist? It makes sense, now, though. Doesn’t it? The top, the lies, the reaction to the concentration camp photos, the willingness and eagerness to leave the German war machine, it all led up to that. How’d y’all like this chapter? Oh yes, a change in perspective indeed.
I’ve got nothing to say.., Enjoy!
Marion woke up early in the morning, she looked around, still dark, still snowing, still holding Hansel in her arms. She woke him up and got him to move into her hull where it was warmer. Once he was inside she talked her mind. “Hansel I can’t get Cindy out of my mind,” Marion looked to her side where Cindy was bundled up in camo netting. “I don’t want her here.”
“I know.” He didn’t really know, he was too tired to know. “Cindy shouldn’t be here.”
“Hansel! I know you’re half-assing this.” She grabbed some snow and tossed it in his face. He jerked up awake and threw the snow off.
“Goddamn that’s cold!” He planted his face against Marion’s wall to warm it up faster. “What, Marion?”
“I don’t want Cindy here, it’s too dangerous.”
“It’s dangerous for everyone. Marion, this is a world war. There’s nowhere the war won’t touch her. All that we can do is put her where she’s safest.” Marion was silent.
“I don’t think we can do that.” She sounded dark and depressed, it worried Hansel.
“Baby, what makes you think that?”
“Ever since I’ve gotten to the front, all we’ve done is retreat. Hansel if we retreat too much there’ll be nowhere to hide her from the shots.”
“But we’re pushing up now, we are winning!”
“You know better Hansel, we won’t be winning for much longer.”
“You’re such a pessimist, Marion.”
“Only rightly so, Hansel. I still have hopes for our survival, and we will be having kids of our own. But for Cindy’s sake, we need to do something.” Hansel dropped his head. He knew there was no arguing this.
“Alright Marion, but how would we save her?” Marion had been thinking about it.
“The third army is coming.”
“Chuck is coming.” Hansel remembered, he started to piece things together.
“But Marion, what about us!?”
“I’ve been talking to Chuck, and he’s been talking to his higher-ups, he said that we should learn of our fate today.” Hansel felt sick to his stomach.
“I don’t know, Marion, what about our friends?”
“We’ll tell them that we’re doing the right thing.”
“What about Germany, my family, the families of Banker, and Whacker, and Meats? What about them?”
“Those are things wars should be fought for, not this one. You saw what our leaders are doing, they’re mad dogs. They are doing that to people like you, they are not right, they are monsters. They are not who we should be fighting for, they’re what we should be fighting.” Hansel thought, many of his old friends were taken away and might be in those camps. He knew that Hitler was a mad man, that he was crazy, but the camps made him evil, made him the devil. Hansel had indeed lost faith in fighting the Americans, but he fought to protect his people from insensible slaughter. As he looked at the choices, both had senseless slaughter and both had reasons to fight. He was terribly conflicted, he didn’t know anymore. He didn’t know.
“Marion I don’t know. I don’t know anymore.” A terrible thought hit him. “Marion, they used that Tiger as a tool against us, what if they pit us against the Germans?” He felt Marion shudder.
“I don’t want to fight Germans, I’ll fight Nazis but I won’t fight Germans.” Hansel felt the surge of sleep over come him again. Before he went to sleep Marion asked him what he was dreaming about.
“You and I relaxing in a magical forest on a bright summer day.”
“How fairy tale.” They slept for a few more hours before they woke up for the day. They had captured Bastogne and were relieving the night shift when Marion heard Dora’s voice.
“Marion!” Marion turned to see Dora in fresh winter paint; she had white all over her body. E was with her followed by Ferdi and Porscha.
“Are you fixed, Dora?” Dora nodded, her engine had serious troubles one day during training, she and the other two were sent back for engine tuning.
“So are you going to tell me how you got that long hit on your side or not?” Marion started her story, Hansel talked to Dora’s, Ferdi’s, and Porscha’s commanders while Whacker got the radios turned up. The losses at the ‘Battle of the Tigers’ put the three new arrivals under Hansel’s command. Bastogne wasn’t completely taken yet, pockets of resistance still plagued the city and secretly Marion and Hansel backed them and wished them luck. Later in the day Dora met Cindy, literally the morning the three engine-troubled tanks left Cindy was brought back. Dora wasn’t sure how to respond to Marion taking her in but was instantly overtaken by Cindy and couldn’t help but found her adorable. They soon got radio contact with Chuck and that’s when Marion persuaded Meats, Whacker and an eager Banker to join her cause. That’s when they told Cindy. Cindy rejoiced that she was going back to the Americans.
“You’re going to take care of me, right!?” Marion looked into Cindy’s eyes. Her little innocent mind didn’t fully see that Marion would become a P.O.W. and that Cindy would be kept away from Marion. Marion knew that they would probably never see each other again. But she couldn’t say no to her.
“I’ll be there, dear. Don’t you worry.” She hugged Cindy, the snow had gathered on top of Cindy and stuck to her hull front, it hid her well.
“We’ll win, Marion, we’ll beat Hitler and win together!” Hansel shushed Cindy, Marion covered her mouth.
“Cindy, you can’t tell anyone. Anyone at all! Okay?” Cindy nodded, she saw that this scared them and crossed her ‘heart’ over her driver’s outcropping.
The battles went on; every now and then a report would say that a tank was lost. Usually dead metal but still, that scared the tanks and their crews. E and Irish grew restless, they wanted to fight but they were kept idle by Idek. They rarely displayed their affection but when they did they tried to do it when no one was around. Jäger hung around them and would come in at times when they were hugging or holding hands. They quickly shot down anything but Irish knew Jäger knew he was lying. Marion scored another kill and her Tiger kill stripe was painted onto her gun when they found some extra paint. Hansel, Marion, Meats, Whacker and Banker decided that they would carry Cindy over during the night so that they wouldn’t be seen. They planned out everything and all they were waiting for was Patton’s Third Army. Then it would be the end of Marion’s short career.
Soon reports came in of American armor to the south of Bastogne, Patton was at their doorstep. Most of the others grew ready for a fight, they cleaned their guns, checked their ammo, tuned their engines and some even sharpened their teeth. Marion wasn’t too thrilled to fight anymore, she still maintained herself but it was considered more as hygiene rather than battle preparation. Marion was hanging out with Jäger and Fritz and some other tank destroyers like Rosa and Ferdi and she was watching their preparations. Jäger and Fritz were cleaning each other’s gun while petting Franz their cat, Ferdi and two other tank destroyers were greasing their tracks, but Rosa was different. She had a special gleam in her eye, it looked a lot like hope and desire mixed together. She was still cleaning her gun and lubricating her treads and whitening her teeth but she seemed to be in a daydream. “Rosa, are you there?” Rosa snapped out of her daydream.
“Huh? Oh! Yeah, yeah, I’m here. Are you?”
“YYYesss? Are you alright?” Rosa fidgeted and looked around.
“YYYYeah.” Marion smirked. She started to leave but she grabbed Rosa’s stern and drug her away from the group.
“Rosa, what’s going on?” Rosa shook her mantle no. “Rosa, something is going on with you. You’ve been daydreaming all day. What is it? A secret lover?” Rosa backed off.
“What!? No!” Marion looked her in the eyes. She lifted her eye shaders in a ‘really’ look. “I-It’s nothing. Really. I’m not hiding anything. I’ve never met an American before.”
“Rosa, I never asked that.” Rosa went wide eyed. She visibly shook in her treads. “Rosa, I’ve got my own secrets with the Americans, it’s okay with me.” Rosa still seemed uncomfortable. “Rosa, you can keep a secret, right? You’re cracking but you’re not broke yet.” She nodded.
“Back in June or July I was being moved to find Fritz, we came across a Sherman. He and his crew were terrified; we could see pigments leaving their skin and the tears of fear and death bundle on their eyes. We couldn’t kill them, they were too helpless. We camped out with them that night-my transmission was flooded-and we talked. We quickly became friends with the Americans and we found unused radio channels, so now we still talk to them. But the Sherman showed me his lover, a Firefly-I think-named Katelyn and he was named-”
“Chuck!” Marion was surprised.
“Yeah, his name was Chuck.” Rosa shifted. “I-uh, I fell in love with Joshua.” Marion was shocked.
“How did that happen?”
“He sort of saved me; they fixed my drive wheel and my tracks. I’m here because of them. Otherwise I might be scrap or I’d be getting raped by something. That’s why I hate Shermans.” Marion suddenly felt violated; she wondered if Shermans would try their way with her. “But Chuck didn’t, he found me and brought Joshua. They helped me, and I might have Joushua’s baby.” Marion was instantly brought off the rape subject.
“He may have, y’know, knocked me up.” She had a sly smile on her face as her eyes drifted to the dirt. Marion picked up her gun mantle.
“Don’t be ashamed, you love him, right?” Rosa smiled and looked left and right as she agreed.
“Yes, I do love him.”
“Then why are you so ashamed? Rosa, don’t be ashamed.”
“But how would anyone take my word if they knew?”
“I know and I trust you.” Rosa shrugged and looked past Marion. “Look, we might be meeting Chuck and crossing the line to their side soon.” Rosa looked at her intrigued and in disbelief. “Yeah, we’re taking Cindy over. I’m sure they could talk you into the deal.” Rosa’s eyes lit up. She begged Marion to talk her in, she dropped her suspension and cupped two hands together and pleaded. Marion promised that she would try her best. Marion asked what they might name it and that’s when Rosa pulled the paper out of her mantle.
“This has the names,” she unfolded it and handed it to Marion. “Zachery is the boy name, Jasmine is the girl name.” Jasmine, I like that name, Marion thought to herself, she might just use it herself.
“Rosa, I could actually get the radio signals from Whacker and give them to you.” Rosa bounced up and down; she started begging again for the codes. Marion had Rosa follow her to where Whacker hung out. It was with Mini, Kramia, Meats, Griffen and the girls. Marion plucked him from the group and secluded the three of them. “Whacker, what are the radio codes for our channel to Chuck?”
“Well they aren’t codes, they’re channels.”
“Whatever! What channel? What dial do I move!?” Rosa asked impatiently.
“I’ll show you, it’s hard to explain.” He climbed up and tugged on Rosa’s hatches. Reluctantly she unlocked the hatch. He climbed in, asked for her hands, and guided them through the process. She excitedly talked through the radio, begging for Chuck or Joshua. “Rosa, they get on at select times, you gotta just wait on this channel, okay?”
“Okay.” She said depressed. Afterwards Marion explained her predicament to Whacker and said she’d tell the rest on their next shift.
Marion went to go tell Cindy. Cindy stayed with Dora when Frau and Marion were out on shift. Dora vaguely knew that Marion was going to get Cindy back to the Americans but Dora didn’t know how or when. Marion came across Dora loading heavy crates on a sled and Cindy trying to pull the sled. Marion watched Dora egg on Cindy while Cindy’s face showed how much she was trying. Marion looked at the sled’s load and thought it had to be at least ten tons. Cindy looked like she was in pain.
“Dora what the hell are you doing!?”
“Making Cindy’s engine stronger.”
“No you’re breaking her engine!”
“That’s how she’ll get stronger.”
“Cindy stop! Don’t hurt yourself, sweetie!”
“Marion, it’s the only way to make her stronger. Your engine isn’t like that one,” she pointed to the disabled Tiger I dead metal engine, “it’s like a giant muscle system. Ask Hansel, Meats, Whacker, Inbred, or Banker how muscles grow bigger and stronger. They’ll tell you that they break; they rip and break before they grow bigger and stronger. Our engines are much the same. Why do you think Ferdi and Porscha are still around? Their dead metal counterparts broke down or burned out long ago but their engines broke and grew stronger, so has mine. If Cindy breaks her engine it will only build her strength! Trust me! It’s what happened to me last month.” Marion eyed her down. She would ask Hansel, and Ferdi and Porscha about it, but first she unlatched the sled from Cindy and carried and pushed her over to where Hansel was resting.
“How do you feel, Cindy?” Cindy was panting and shoveling snow onto her back to cool her engine off.
“I’m tired!” She whined, she leaned against Marion and snuggled up to her. “And hungry.” Marion wasn’t too sure about that, she’d never been hungry before. “Do you guys have any casings I can eat?” Marion did have some, she picked them from her shelf and laid them right on Cindy’s bow, Cindy licked her lips and took a deep breath. “Mom would crush them for me, but her casings weren’t that big, can you crush only one? Maybe two? Please?”
“Sure, sweetie.” Marion picked one up and flattened one on her hull bow, she handed it right to Cindy. Cindy took a bite and smiled.
“It tastes just like moms!” Marion smiled as Cindy tore at the flattened casing. She finished the casing and hummed. “Marion, can I have another?”
“Sure dear.” She flattened another and gave it to her, Marion thought of how she was mostly empty inside her hull; she had her whole cabin to use. “Cindy can you open your hatches?” Cindy swallowed a bite and answered.
“Yeah, I can.” Her hatches flew open like a bomb blew them open. Marion peaked inside, she was empty. “I can flap them like a bird wings!” Her hatches on her turret flapped furiously, like Cindy believed they could make her fly. Quickly they slowed and stopped because of how tired she was.
“Can you reach inside you like this?” Marion opened a hatch and put one of her arms inside. Cindy nodded and slithered an arm into her side hatch where spent shells would be tossed. “No, in this one.” Marion touched the rim of Cindy’s commander’s hatch; Cindy stuck her arm in, all the way to the bottom. “Just like that! Here Cindy, I’m going to give these to you. Whenever you’re hungry, just reach in there and grab a snack. Okay?”
“Okay.” Marion crushed all of her spent casings and stacked them inside Cindy; she had Cindy pull one out before she let Cindy close her hatches. “It feels weird, mommy.”
“You’ll get used to it, sweetie.” Marion stopped outside Banker and Hansel’s little tent, she called them out and asked them how muscles get stronger.
“They break and build bigger, like a bridge. When one bridge breaks usually the bridge is built bigger and better.” Banker said, he was tinkering with a block of wood and a bayonet he found. The huge size gave away it was a German bayonet.
“Whatcha making, banks?” Cindy asked in between bites.
“A top, I didn’t have anything like a cup to make it out of so it’ll be a little blocky. When I’m done do you want to play with me?”
“Just cut the corners, alright?” Hansel said.
“Yeah, sure thing.” He went back to pointing the bottom.
“Hansel, Banker, Cindy, we might be taking Rosa with us.” Hansel and Banker looked disapproving, Cindy’s face lit up.
“Why?” Banker asked in a down tone.
“Because she’s in love with Joshua.” She mouthed she’s pregnant to them so Cindy wouldn’t catch on.
“How can we trust her?” Hansel said. Banker seconded her in a darker tone, emphasizing the trust.
“She could be out to put us down.” He said.
“She knew who Chuck was, and Katelyn, she knew Joshua before I even named Chuck or Joshua. She seemed very, very determined to be reunited with Joshua.” The guys still seemed doubting. “If you were there you’d understand.” Suddenly Marion’s radio crackled to life with Chuck’s voice. Marion spotted Rosa out of the corner of her eye stop what she was doing and respond.
“Chuck! You’re still alive! Chuck! Chuck where’s Joshua?!” It took Chuck a moment to respond.
“Oh! Rosa! How are you?”
“Where’s Joshua!?” The very moment after she finished it was Joshua on the radio.
“Rosa!? Is it really you!?”
“Yes! Yes it’s me!”
“What are the names?”
“Zachery and Jasmine!” There was a pause.
“Oh my god! How are you doing? Are you alright? What happened?” Marion brought Banker and Hansel over and they listened.
“Convinced yet?” They nodded.
Fin Ch 38
DISCLAIMER: This story contains some themes and content that most will find uncomfortable, namely the rape of an 17 year old German male by a female Soviet IS-2. You have been warned.
Willi Höfler slowly reached up beneath the brim of his Stahlhelm and wiped the sweat from his brow, listening to the harsh, man-made thunder of artillery in the distance. He tightened his white-knuckled grip around the battered Italian Carcano rifle as the ripping sound of incoming shells passed overhead and shook the building around him. He coughed and covered his mouth to keep from breathing in the dust and soot that filtered down from the charred beams overhead. At seventeen years old he was barely old enough to grow a beard, but he could feel the dusting of blond hairs on his gaunt, dirty cheeks. He glanced around the room with tired eyes, hearing the quiet sniffling from one of the younger kids who had failed to hide their fear. There were seven of them – teenage boys, girls, kids as young as fourteen – all exhausted and filthy, huddled in the burnt-out shell of what had once been a delightful pastry shop. Willi’s parents had taken him here last year for his birthday; the increasing wartime shortages had made the small cake a special treat. It was the cruelest of ironies that he was likely going to die here exactly one year later.
The date was April 27th, and Willi lived in Hell.
If there was a better way to describe the current state of Berlin, he could not think of it. The once-proud capital of the Third Reich had been shattered and laid to waste by years of Allied bombing raids. Day and night the bombers of the United States and Great Britain had come to drop their explosive payloads, reducing entire swathes of the city to rubble. Hundreds of thousands had been killed by a rain of death that the Luftwaffe seemed increasingly powerless to stop, and countless others had simply fled the city to escape such a fate. Of those that remained behind, many were starving and malnourished. Clean water was in short supply, the pressure gone from the shattered pipes. Without plumbing, people simply dumped their refuse in the streets, spreading disease. Fires raged until they ran out of things to burn, and the unreachable dead rotted beneath the debris. Berlin was a city destroyed long before the Russians even arrived…
But now, the barbarian hordes howled for blood at the gates, a horrifying reversal of fortune from 1941 when the might of Germany had seemed unstoppable. Poland, France, Denmark, Norway, Belgium, the Low Countries, Greece, and Yugoslavia had all fallen to the superiority of the German soldier, and the armies of the Reich were poised at Moscow’s throat. Rommel was kicking the Tommys all over North Africa, while the Luftwaffe’s bombers struck at London. Victory had been all but assured, and the Greater German Reich would stand astride all of Europa in a new and glorious age! But one by one, the branches of the Wehrmacht had been been beaten back: the Kriegsmarine, the Luftwaffe, and the Heer. Now, not only had the Bolsheviks reconquered the lands lost to the Reich since 1941, but they had invaded the Fatherland itself! In the West, the Amis had crossed the Rhine after retaking France and Belgium, and were also pushing hard towards Berlin.
Only the most ardent supporters of National Socialism still believed the words of victory coming from Goebbels’ propaganda ministry. It was clear that the Führer’s vaunted Wunderwaffen had failed to break the will of the Allies, and in response he had tasked every man, woman, and child left in Berlin with the final defense of the city. For months they had labored, digging anti-tank ditches, erecting bunkers and barricades, and making tank traps from the endless rubble, transforming it into a fortress that would finally break the back of the Soviet advance. And as the Red Army closed in on the city, the Volkssturm, alongside the ragged remains of the Schutzstaffel and the Wehrmacht, would be the last soldiers of the Third Reich.
Willi instinctively flinched as another swarm of Soviet rockets – the damned ‘Stalin’s Organ’ – howled overhead like demons. Eight days ago, those defenses constructed at Seelow Heights had finally crumbled under the weight of the Red Army after a pitched, four day battle. The next day, the Russians had started shelling Berlin and hadn’t stopped firing since. He had thought it impossible for the city to become even more ravaged than it already was, but the relentless artillery barrage had proved him wrong. Buildings already damaged by the bombings were simply collapsing, burying those hiding within under tons of concrete and steel. Each day, the sound of gunfire and tank cannon got a little louder, a little closer to the city center. The Russians had already crossed the Teltow Canal, swarming towards the Reichstag at the center of Berlin and crushing all resistance in their way.
But the encroaching Red Army wasn’t the only thing that the terrified Berliners had to worry about either. As the Reich collapsed around them, the SS grew increasingly fanatical and relentless in their methods. Anyone, soldier or civilian, suspected of cowardice or desertion was rounded up and executed. Death squads roamed the city, shooting and hanging those they believed were trying to abandon their posts. Now bloated bodies hung from the trees and lampposts like demented fruit, and blackened blood congealed and drew flies in the streets. Signs around their neck proclaimed messages of their treasonous acts to dissuade others from following their example.
The Dark Ages had returned to Germany.
But Willi was not going to desert. He truly believed that it was his duty as a good German to defend the Fatherland and the Reich, even if the latter was becoming an increasingly hollow concept. To run away would be to abandon his friends and family, and to spit in the face of those who had already given their lives in his defense. Even if he had wanted to flee, his squad of Volkssturm had been taken over by an SS-Oberscharführer named Uwe Gottschalk, a hawkish man who had been fighting the Soviets since Barbarossa. He would have likely shot any of them if he had suspected they might desert. Indeed, one of the younger boys had fled a couple of nights ago and Uwe had beaten the other two members of his foxhole until they were black and blue, screaming at the two boys as tears ran down their cheeks and snot bubbled from their noses. No, Willi was not dumb enough to desert his comrades.
Gottschalk paced back and forth in front of the shattered windows like a caged tiger, with willful disdain for the chaos raging outside. “The bolsheviks are approaching!” The man shouted, “But they are walking straight into our jaws! Their panzers are vulnerable in our streets! Their own artillery hampers their movement!” He stabbed his finger in the direction of Tempelhof Airport, which had been besieged by the Soviets for several days now. “Our comrades valiantly resist the Russians with their every breath! The Führer expects all of us to do the same! We will fight them here, we will stop them here! The future of the Reich is counting on us!” The younger members of the group watched in awe at the man’s confidence. With such a fine example of Aryan superiority leading them, how could they lose? Uwe then locked his steely gaze on Willi, making a chill run down his spine. “Volkssturmmann Höfler! How many Panzerfausts do we have left?”
Willi lunged to his feet, the rifle clattering at his side as he stood at attention. “We have eight Panzerfausts remaining, herr Oberscharführer!” He barked, his back straight. As the oldest ‘soldier’ under Uwe’s command, he had been tasked with keeping track of the group’s supply of anti-tank weapons. The Panzerfaust was a true Wunderwaffe: cheap to produce, easy to use, and effective. Even though he had never fired one at an enemy tank before, he had seen a public demonstration on how even the least-trained Hitlerjugend could still use it with ease. But while German factories had once produced them by the thousands, now it seemed that there were never enough to go around. When they ran out of the ones they had, would they be able to get more?
Uwe nodded and slowly met all their eyes, looking around the room. “The Russian panzers are fearsome, but the Russian soldier is a dog! They are untrained, illiterate subhumans tainted by the sins of Bolshevism and Jewry! Without their armor to hide behind, they are useless! Now, this is what we will do…” He pointed down at a crude map of the intersection drawn in the dust on one of the cafe’s tables. “Myself and Volkssturmmann Höfler will take positions here. We will use the Panzerfausts to destroy the advancing panzers. This will block the road and force their other tanks to withdraw, where they will be savaged by our mines and 88s. Their infantry will be forced by their masters to advance even without their armor, and that is when the rest of you will strike!” Uwe pointed to several spots on the ‘map’. “Here and here! Two soldiers each with rifles. The machine gun will be set up on the second floor of this building. You will cover our withdrawl, and then fall back when I give the signal!” Two boys, both of them barely sixteen, stood sharply by the old MG 34 and saluted. Uwe looked around the room again, making sure he commanded their attention. “Do you all understand?” Dirty faces nodded in reply.
Willi thought quietly about the Oberscharführer’s plan as he crouched down by one of two crates stored behind the charred countertop, opening one of them to reveal the four Panzerfausts stored within. He quickly slung the rifle over his shoulder and retrieved a weapon for himself and Gottschalk. Despite his ruthlessness, Uwe understood that they would have to bleed the Soviets and then fall back, trading space for time. Throwing away his soldiers’ lives was a wasteful act. But the problem was, they just didn’t have much space left…or time. Willi hefted the Panzerfausts and set one on the table by Uwe, shards of glass crunching beneath his boots as he peered out into the street from one of the shattered windows.
His beloved Berlin was a wasteland, the air thick with smoke and dust. Not a single building stood undamaged, the streets filled with the scattered rubble of a civilization. Vehicles lay abandoned at the sides of the street, their tires long gone and their fuel tanks long empty. Sandbags and crude tank traps had been constructed out of anything and everything. Ditches and trenches had been dug into the streets, craters made by Russian artillery were used as shallow foxholes and fighting positions for anti-tank guns. Street trams had been packed to the roof with loose rubble and shoved into place to form crude barricades. The morbid joke ran that it would take the Russians twenty minutes to bypass those ‘fortifications’ – ten minutes to stop laughing at them, and then ten minutes to drive through them.
Oberscharführer Gottschalk again took the lead, striding out through the window and into the street. “Follow me, Volkssturmmann Höfler.” He ordered, holding the Panzerfaust firmly in his grasp. He turned to address his assembled ‘soldiers’ once more. “You all know what is at stake! Bleed the Soviets for every inch of ground! Make them regret ever setting a foot inside the Reich! Heil Hitler!”
“Heil Hitler!” Seven voices howled in reply. Their confidence bolstered, the German youths rushed to their ambush positions as Willi followed Uwe up along the street of shredded automobiles and scattered rubble. Already the sound of small arms and tank cannon was louder than it had been five minutes ago. He could hear the snarling of diesel engines, the metallic squealing of tracks as the Soviet tanks probed the city’s defenses. Undeterred by the noise, Uwe strode forward without even bothering to take cover. Willi wasn’t sure if this was bravery or insanity, but he held his helmet a little tighter against his head and hurried along behind the man. They rounded a gentle bend in the street, but one that would hide the waiting machine gun from any infantry that decided to follow them.
“This is where we will wait.” Uwe gestured to a pile of rubble that had spilled out into the street from a collapsed house. Some of it had already been piled into a low ‘wall’ of sorts by some thoughtful Berliner in preparation for using it as a defensive position. “Quickly, get yourself into position.” He ordered, “They should be here any minute.” Uwe crouched down behind the rubble pile and began preparing the Panzerfaust. Willi shuffled into place beside him, quickly removing the pin holding the warhead to the launcher. The primer was already inserted into the weapon, despite that making it not ‘safe’. But in this instance, having the weapon ready to fire at a moment’s notice was more important than safety. His stomach churned with nervousness, glancing over the debris again and again, each time expecting the Russians to suddenly be there.
The minutes began to bleed together into a nerve-wracking stretch where each echo, each crack of a distant shot, made Willi cringe. A chunk of brick was jabbing into his stomach, but he didn’t dare reach down to move it. More artillery thundered down on Templehof, bombarding the German strongpoint there. ‘At least the Amis aren’t bombing us now…’ He thought sardonically. The encirclement of Berlin by the Soviets meant that the other Allied Powers had ceased their bombing raids, out of concerns of harming the Russians. Willi would have given anything to see one of those devastating bombing raids falling on the heads of the Communists, even if it meant having to endure more of them himself.
He jumped as a diesel engine snarled just up the street, the sound of metal scraping against the cobblestones echoing off the shattered walls. Willi peeked up over the edge of the rubble just a bit and then promptly ducked back down when he saw the blunt snout of a Soviet T-34-84 appear around the corner. The commander was cautious, stopping to inspect the street in front of him. Brown-clad infantry huddled around the tank, shielded from attack by the machine’s metal bulk. The city was eating up tanks and men like a wolf ate rabbits. But there were so many rabbits…even a wolf got full. Uwe must have sensed Willi tensing because he shoved Willi back down against the ground before he even realized that he was starting to stand. “Not yet.” He growled, glaring at the Soviet panzer. “Wait until you know you will hit…” Willi didn’t like that, not one bit. That meant they would be more than close enough to hit him back. He held no illusions of his ability to dodge machine gun fire.
The T-34-85’s commander finally decided to continue his advance, the engine roared and gushed exhaust as the tank pivoted in place, lurching into motion towards them. The infantry advanced with the tank, men carrying rifles and submachine guns. At least ten of them, Willi counted. Laying there, watching the tank approach, and being able to do nothing made every part of Willi want to get up a run. Get up and scream. Get up and do something, anything! He could feel the weight of the tank vibrating through the ground like an earthquake, fragments of brick and mortar skittering off the pile of rubble. “Not yet.” Uwe repeated, and then again. “Not yet.” That blunt machine gun at the front of the tank pivoted from side to side, looking for targets. Targets like him. Soviet soldiers were close enough that he could see the whites of their eyes, some starting to move in front of the tank. They were going to be spotted if –
“Now!” Uwe lunged up from behind the rubble pile when the T-34-85 was no more than ten meters away, leveling his Panzerfaust at the tank barreling towards them. Bang! The high explosive shaped charge lashed out and slammed into the Soviet tank’s hull, detonating in a flash of flame and smoke. Fragments of molten metal spanged off the cobblestones as the tank ground to a shrieking halt. Willi thought he could hear the agonized screams of the crew inside, but the sound was drowned out by a volcanic rumbling that grew in volume as flames gushed from the hull and the hatches. A human torch managed to claw itself halfway out of the commander’s cupola before the entire turret blew off, a massive fireball of exploding ammunition and burning diesel lobbing the several ton turret into the air. The hunk of flaming metal arched over and smashed through the side of a building, showering rubble down onto the street below. A pall of noxious, greasy smoke boiled up from the wreck and flooded the street with choking fumes.
Willi cautiously peered over the rubble and stared at the blazing, mangled wreckage, shielding his face from the searing heat. Sheets of flame raged from the twisted hole where the turret had once been; strips of molten rubber dripped down from the bogies onto the shattered tracks. The infantry that had been advancing with the tank were nowhere to be seen, driven back by the savage heat and the destruction of their armored shield. Even though he could hardly breathe, a savage cheer clawed its way up out of his throat, his heart pounding with panicked elation. The Russians had been driven off by their stinging attack! With the street blocked by the wreckage, the Soviet tanks would have to withdraw and find a new route, and the chokepoint would leave any infantry that slipped through vulnerable to small arms. For one small moment in time, Germany was victorious again!
It was only then that Willi realized that he had pissed himself.
The victory evaporated the instant another powerful engine roared, turning his stomach to a black pit of ice. Tracks squealed and rattled, the sound growing louder and closer with each moment. As he watched in horror, the burning hulk of the T-34 was smashed aside in a storm of sparks and rent metal by the biggest tank he had ever seen. The cobblestones crumbled beneath its sheer bulk, nearly twice that of the ruined T-34. The gun sticking out of the broad-faced turret stretched on for miles. Black smoke and fire whorled around the hull, burning diesel dripping from the tracks as it drove through the blazing fluids of its wrecked comrade, making it look like it had just emerged from the bowels of Hades itself. Willi was frozen to the ground, petrified by the icy claws of fear tearing into his guts.
“Scheiße!” Uwe cursed, “IS-2!” Willi didn’t care what it was, he had to get away from that thing before it killed him! Finally in that primal part of the human brain leftover from when we were rodents scurrying under the feet of giants, Willi’s flight response finally overrode the paralysis of his higher thoughts. He pushed himself to his feet and turned to bolt, but Gottschalk grabbed him by the collar and hurled him back down to the ground. Uwe slapped him across the face and jerked him back to the rubble pile. “Fire your Panzerfaust, you fucking coward!” He bellowed, his eyes alight in rage and…something more frightening. “Fire it, or we’re both fucking dead!” Willi’s hands were suddenly clammy with sweat, shaking as he snapped the leaf sights into position, sighting it on the approaching monster. It was so close and so large that he could hardly miss… The trigger gave a brief instant of resistance beneath his fingers… Bang!
The launcher jumped in his hands, spitting a ten-foot plume of flame and exhaust out behind him. The warhead smashed against the turret of the IS-2 in a shower of sparks and smoke. Willi’s heart leaped for an instant, thinking he had actually slain this mechanized Goliath, but then the metal beast rumbled on as if though it hadn’t even felt the rocket carom off its armored hide. He dropped the empty Panzerfaust tube and scrambled to his feet before Uwe could grab at him again, bolting back towards the ambush site as fast as his feet would carry him. His lungs burned as he ran, his heart clenched in his chest, tears streamed down his cheeks. He felt his ankle wrench as he stepped on a brick, but he didn’t stop. He caught movement at the edge of his peripheral vision and made the mistake of looking back over his shoulder.
As brave as he was, as vicious as he was, even Gottschalk knew when it was time to retreat from a lost fight. The SS officer was also running from the tank as quickly as he could, though his face lacked the look of pure terror that Willi knew was plastered on his own. He didn’t want to think about the reaming out that he would receive from the SS officer when they escaped. If Uwe didn’t execute him for cowardice, he would consider that a miracle. As it turned out, he wouldn’t have to worry about that anymore. The bow gun on the IS-2 opened up with an absurd hammering noise. Dust and chips of stone kicked up around Gottschalk’s feet, sparks jumped from the car husks he was dodging between. Another burst of fire nearly chopped him in half, throwing his body to the ground in a spray of blood and dust without even a cry of pain.
Willi rounded the bend as fast as his ankle would carry him, pain wrenching up his leg. If he could just get another Panzerfaust..! A rifle bullet cracked past his head, and then a machine gun opened up, stitching a line of impacts only a foot in front of him. He yelped as fragments nipped at his ankles and he tripped, slamming against one of the abandoned cars. The machine gun made a different sound than the stuttering Russian gun…it was the MG34! It was their machine gun! The ambush was shooting at him! Now Willi was the one screaming in rage as bullets snapped overhead, rattling against the car’s body and keeping him pinned down, but his allies couldn’t hear him. They just kept firing in their excitement. Willi never thought he could imagine a situation where he hoped his own side ran out of ammunition, but here it was!
He could hear the tank coming, the sound of metal smashing as it shoved cars off the road or crumpled them like tin cans beneath its weight. The gun poked around the shallow bend in the road, the turret rotated enough that he could see the Cyrillic writing painted crudely in white on the green metal. ‘Утюг сука’. Sparks started dancing across the front glacis and turret of the the tank as the boys shifted their fire to the obviously more threatening target. Willi jumped to his feet again, feeling his ankle flare in protest at the abuse, but this was his only chance! Another rifle bullet, Soviet this time, ricocheted off the hood of the car he was trying to clamber over, tugging briefly at his sleeve as it sliced a hole in the fabric. The IS-2 lumbered to a stop, the turret slowly rotating as it aimed at the winking muzzle flash from above the bakery…
A flash of white fire erupted from the IS-2’s massive cannon, the pressure wave snatching at his uniform. Willi screamed and clutched at his deafened ears, dust and the stench of gun smoke were literally rammed down his nose and throat. The machine gun instantly stopped firing, the MG34 and the two boys manning it obliterated by the shot. The Panzerfausts downstairs in the bakery also detonated in their crates, adding to the destruction that blew the building to rubble. Fragments of brick and splinters of glass rained down around him, but half-maddened by the concussion Willi didn’t even notice. Blood trickled from his ruptured eardrums, a shrill ringing screamed inside his skull. Hot tears blurred his vision into a mush, but he could still make out the shape of the damned IS-2 looming over him. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the machine gun rounds to tear into his body…but they never came.
One minute and an eternity later, he was still breathing. Willi slowly opened his eyes, blinking rapidly to clear away some of the tears. The IS-2 sat motionless only meters away, its engine idling loud enough to hurt his damaged ears. “What?” He rasped at the tank, his throat raw from the smoke and from screaming. The Soviets inside must be laughing at him. “What are you waiting for?! Kill me!” He suddenly didn’t care anymore. Death would be better than suffering like this! He scooped a chunk of stone from the street and hurled it against the IS-2’s hull. “Verdammt Sie! Just kill me!”
The engine snarled and the tank lurched forward, clanking on heavy tracks. Willi flinched and tried to scramble back with his hands, his momentary defiance evaporating in a blink. They were going to crush him beneath the tracks! He tried to get to his feet and run, but he had no balance and fell to the trembling earth. He sobbed and scrabbled at the ground, trying desperately, frantically, to drag himself out of the way. Too slow, he would never make it. Tracks screeched and kicked up sparks and dust from the street, the massive tank grinding to a halt only inches away from crushing him into red paste. Its engine rumbled in a way that sounded like heavy breathing, white fumes drifting up from the exhausts. Willi stared up at the metal behemoth, quivering like a leaf on an autumn tree.
“Vyyti. Ya budu zabotit’sya o etom.” A voice growled loudly from within the tank. Willi understood no Russian, but it was a woman’s voice! His tormentor was a woman! There were quieter voices from inside the armored hull, but these he could not make out as clearly. “Ya skazal vyyti! Teper’ !” The brutish-sounding woman boomed, even louder than before. Then to Willi’s utter astonishment, the hatches on the tank opened. One by one, the crew of the tank slowly climbed out from the top of the turret, their bodies filthy and sweaty. Their uniforms were in tatters, and it was obvious that they had not bathed in weeks. Despite his disorientation, Willi couldn’t help but stare in disbelief and dismay. These were the people that had beaten Germany? They were walking wrecks! The four of them glared vitriol at him too, as if though this was his fault, but then they shrugged and seemed resigned to the situation, gradually fanning out to stretch and relieve themselves. What in Hell was going on? Then Willi abruptly realized that not a single one of them were women.
The IS-2’s engine revved again, the tank shuddering as that broad turret began to rotate – there was still someone inside the tank! Willi was too close for the massive cannon to aim directly at him, but the turret stopped turning when it faced him. Then an eye opened up on the right side of the turret, just beside the gun mantlet, glaring down at him. Willi’s thoughts went utterly blank. He was certain that he had just gone insane. Or maybe he was dead after all. Either one of those explanations were more plausible to him than the fact that the tank was staring at him! That cycloptic eye seemed to sneer, the blackened smear of gouged metal where his Panzerfaust had hit gouged over the it like a scar. “Knabe komm.” The tank growled in crude, thickly accented German.
To compound the living nightmare in front of him, a seething cluster of metallic cables slithered out from beneath the tank’s chassis, snaking across the ground directly towards him. All rationality fled as the first of those cables snared around his ankle. “N-Nein! Nein!” He screamed, kicking at the cable as it slithered up his leg. A second cable whipped around his other ankle and together they began dragging him towards the tank. He tried to find something, anything to grab hold of, but there was nothing. He didn’t even know where his rifle had gone. “Let go of me! What is happening?!” He looked over and saw more Soviet infantry cautiously advancing further into the city. “Help me! Ich gebe auf! I surrender!” He sobbed, pleading with the stone-faced Russians. He’d rather face them than what was happening to him! But they saw the tank and pointedly ignored him, leaving him to his fate.
“Vyyti izvivayas’, malen’kiy cherv’!” The tank…shouted at him, and a metal gauntlet cracked across his face. His ears rang even worse than before, the stinging pain threatened to make him black out. More cables looped under his armpits and around his chest, binding him tightly. Another curled dangerously around his throat, the firm pressure choking off his protests. He felt the tendrils tighten further and haul him off the ground as though he weighed no more than a sack of potatoes. Willi kept trying to struggle against his bonds as much as he could, yelping in sudden pain as he cracked his shins against the spare tracks bolted to the tank’s lower glacis. “Ya skazal, brosit’ dvigat’sya!” Another slap, harder than the first, brought him to the ragged edge of unconsciousness.
When the blackness finally retreated from his vision, Willi was sprawled face up on the tank’s hull, his arms and legs pulled spread eagle over the upper glacis like a prisoner on a torturer’s rack. The driver’s viewport jammed painfully against his spine, and those metal cables coiled so tightly around his wrists and ankles that he did not have the strength to move them by even an inch. The metal of the tank’s hull was rough and pitted from crude construction and battle damage, and uncomfortably hot. He could feel the vibrations from the engine, and the sharp bite of diesel fumes hanging thick in the air made it difficult to breathe.
The tank’s cannon hovered over him, his head only centimeters below the mantlet. Thick, silvery fluid dripped from the metal and onto his face, his skin tingling wherever the liquid touched. He sputtered and tried to turn his head away, but one of those metal hands grabbed his hair and yanked his head back into place. The heat radiating from the tank grew nearly oppressive as the cannon began elevating towards the sky, a gray seam widening in the green-painted metal. It seemed to twitch and pulse before his eyes, looking…alive. He felt a hand claw at his uniform, sharp metal fingers knifing into his collar. With alarming ease, the hand raked down the front of his coat and shirt, ripping the fabric apart and exposing his chest. Again and again her claws struck, shredding his dirty uniform into scraps of fabric that barely clung to his body. Pips of blood quickly rose in the angry red scratches she had gouged in his skin.
The tank’s engine revved again and the hand slid lower and gripped at his privates. Tightly, too tightly! Pain whited out his vision, a squeak slipping past his lips as he grit his teeth from the pressure. A moment later, he squeezed his eyes tight in shame as he felt his penis bared to the open air. “Teper’ vy znayete, chto ya odin v zaryada.” The tank growled, finally releasing her vice grip on his cock. Willi sagged against her hull and whimpered, closing his eyes and wishing it would all stop. The trickle of silvery fluid was almost constant now, drooling rivulets of mercury running down his chin as he kept his mouth closed tightly. The hand gripping his hair jerked his head up towards that oozing seam. He tried to twist, to turn his head away, but it felt like his scalp was being ripped off. Without even a chance to hold his breath, his face was jammed up into the steaming port, the smell of hot iron flooding his nose. A bit of that mercury fluid also found its way up his nostrils and he sputtered, coughing frantically. This only opened his mouth and let more of the tank’s bitter fluid pour in. He spat it out, struggling again as he gagged. He couldn’t breathe. He was going to be smothered!
“Da! Yesh’te moyu pizdu, vam fashistskaya kiska!” The tank rumbled in perverse delight, grinding his face deeper against her slit. Willi’s head swam, unable to breathe. He swallowed down a mouthful of her hot fluids, wanting to retch at it flowed down to his stomach. His heart surged against his ribs, electricity raced through his nerves, his limbs tingled down to his tips of his toes. His fists beat uselessly against her hull as her steely hands fell upon his cock again. “Vy vyzvali. Zhalkiye.” She roughly stroked his length – which became shamefully hard despite his distress. His eyes watered as his lungs screamed for air. She – the tank – pulled his head away just for long enough for him to swallow a desperate breath of air before she mashed his mouth back against those oddly soft folds. Too soft for metal, but it was metal. Why was he noticing this? Why did he care? Why did he feel so warm? The IS-2’s engine roared, the vibrations shuddering through his body. She continued to jerk him off without a hint of tenderness, strong metal fingers sliding back and forth over his shaft.
Willi gasped and gagged on the metallic fluid pouring down his throat, his struggles rapidly weakening as his strength started to ebb. His thoughts felt hazy and distant, tears trickled down his cheeks as he slowly, reluctantly, stuck out his tongue into the writhing, oozing metal. It was painfully, terrifyingly clear what the tank wanted, even though he didn’t understand how or why, or even what. He just wanted to survive this… The tank’s engine seized up, her metal hand going still against his cock, but only for a moment before the gears crunched back together and she howled in delight. She pulled his hair even tighter, shoving his face even deeper against her port. He grit his teeth, feeling the flood of warm fluid flowing over his face, dripping down onto the tank’s glacis plate beneath him, and dripping off her hull to the shattered street below. The soft metal mashed and squelched with liquid as his tongue desperately probed her depths. His cock twitched beneath her fingers, slick with silvery lubrication and precum. But the IS-2 was much more worked up than Willi. She jerked forward on her tracks, metal linkage squealing against the drive sprockets. Revving louder, and louder, it would be a surprise if the entire Russian advance didn’t hear her roaring engine and cries of pleasure. “O yebat’ mat’ d’yavola!” She snarled, screwing that one eye tightly shut. “Bystreye, shlyukha!”
Those steel hands, those metal cables tightened so sharply that Willi practically cried out, feeling his bones ache, his flesh and muscles bruising under the sheer tension pinning him to her hull. It felt like an eternity, this steel behemoth screaming and shuddering beneath him. Had she been a human, she would have been thrashing her head back and forth. Willi slurped and lapped his tongue around inside her, feeling it tug on his, almost crushing the soft muscle. Silvery fluid flooded around his lips and tongue, more than he could swallow. He shut his mouth and gagged again on the gunmetal and kerosene taste that coated his tongue and warmed his belly. He was vaguely aware of his own cock throbbing and spurting all over the tank’s hands, but it was a distant, hollow feeling that left him even more drained then he already was.
Just as suddenly, her grip on him disappeared and he practically slid off the tank’s hull and flopped to the ground. Willi curled up on his side and retched, trying to empty his stomach of the contents sloshing around inside. For a moment, he forgot about the tank looming over him, about the scraggly Russian crew standing off to one side, or the infantry scurrying past. He forgot about the artillery and rockets pounding the city to dust and rubble. His entire world was centered around him and what had just happened to– Pain. White-hot, blistering pain instantly made his world shrink to a blood-red pinprick. At some point he became aware that he was screaming, only because he had to take a breath to replace the air gone from his lungs. The IS-2 carved across his back, slowly, deliberately, a metal talon slicing a symbol into his flesh – a mark for the whole world to see. It was too much for him to handle. Consciousness flickered, and then fled completely.
– – –
When Willi finally awoke, the sky above was nearly dark, lit only by the fires and distant flashes of still more artillery. He was laying on the side of the shattered street, discarded like a piece of garbage. Every part of his body was in agony, from his scalp to his toes. Scratches and bruises covered almost every inch of his skin – the tank must used him more than once after he had passed out… His back felt like molten iron had been driven into his flesh, and the shredded skin of his shoulderblades was stiff and sticky with dried blood. Slowly, very slowly, the world started to come back into focus, and it was only then that he noticed that the heavy throb of the IS-2’s engine was long gone. Lifting his head, he saw that the tank was no longer there, just a trail of crushed cobblestones and rubble. The sounds of fighting were well past him now, the Soviets even closer to the Reichstag, the city center, than they had been this morning. Even the ruined T-34 had stopped burning…how long had he been laying there?
He staggered to his feet and looked around in a daze. The tattered shreds of his uniform barely clung to his body, his ankle barely held his weight. How had he avoided being shot out of hand by the Russians that he knew had to have passed him? Why was he not being herded together with all of the other prisoners and being shipped off the the Siberian gulags? He didn’t understand…was it something to do with what the tank had carved into him? Had she…intended for him to be spared of the Soviet’s wrath? He could understand someone not wanting to get on the vehicle’s bad side, but… He shook his head harshly, even desperately. He was alive, that was all that mattered. If this…mark that the IS-2 had given him kept him safe from the Red Army…at least long enough to wait for the war to be over…maybe he could even make his way West towards American lines…
He sagged wearily as exhaustion crashed over him like a wave, almost slumping against a wrecked car. Whether he tried to make it to the Americans, or just waited for the war to end around him…he needed to rest. Time to sort out his thoughts, to try and clean himself as much as possible… He saw a particularly large flash, a fireball rolling up over the shattered rooftops of Berlin and stared at it blankly. He didn’t flinch. He was too tired, too uncaring, to flinch. He wasn’t sure what would come next, but one thing was for sure, his war was over…
– – –
– – –
Hello again, everyone!
It’s been a very long time since I last posted something here, (Holy shit, November 2014.) and for that I apologize profusely. I am not a very fast, nor a very consistent writer (as Ratbat will vehemently attest to after months of wanting to see more of my stuff completed), and I am also a perfectionist, so I tend to take a lot of time picking apart and rewriting my stuff. I also hemmed and hawed about writing, and then finishing this story because I was both uncomfortable with the content and didn’t know how well it would be received. And then after spending so long on it, I started to get burned out on the concept. Add that to various real-life issues, and it was very unlikely that this story would have seen the light of day. So, thanks again to Ratbat for egging me on to complete this. This story’s completion is more of her effort than anything.
So, I feel that I should clear things up first and foremost. I do not condone rape, nor am I trying to trivialize it. The fact that it is a male being forced into a sexual situation does not make it any better. However, the idea originated back when I was writing Operation: LUSTY. Originally, I pictured Petra being much colder and more aggressive towards Kenneth, even to the point of being mean, and she was not going to be gentle during sex at all. And I had the thought that if a living machine – be it a plane, tank, or ship – was determined to have sex with you, it was going to have sex with you, and it wasn’t going to really matter what your opinion on the matter was. There is no way a human could be stronger than the vehicle. And while romantic and passionate sex is all well and good, it’s not the only kind of sex there is. I couldn’t make the concept fit very well with Petra without a severe reworking of the entire story, so I instead decided to take that idea and apply it to a different one set during the climactic end to the War in Europe: The Fall of Berlin.
By Spring of 1945, the Red Army was overwhelming the last, desperate defenses that the Germans had to offer. Hitler was only days away from killing himself, and the Soviets had a long list of grievances that they were going to repay the Germans for, with interest. The weight of Soviet artillery shells dropped on Berlin during between April 20th and May 2nd was greater than the total tonnage dropped by Western Allied bombers on the city during the entire war. The Germans, having long-since scraped the bottom of the manpower barrel, employed the Volkssturm, the Hitlerjugend, and even the police to help reinforce the few gutted SS and Wehrmacht divisions that still remained. During and immediately after the battle, there was widespread instances of vengeful Soviet troops (mostly rear echelon units) raping German women in retaliation for what German soldiers did to Russian women during their invasion of the Soviet Union. And that was what made me think of the IS-2 having her way with Willi, despite his struggles.
Now, some of you might be wondering why Willi is using an Italian bolt-action rifle during the battle for the German capital. That’s because when Italy capitulated to the Allies and switched sides, the Germans pretty much took over what was left and continued to fight the Allies, and in the process secured thousands of Italian-made Carcano rifles. By the time the Fall of Berlin was taking place, the arms industry in Germany was more or less nonexistent. So, they began arming Volkssturm units with the Italian arms they had confiscated.
I apologize if the ending was a little weak. I didn’t really know how to wrap it up, but I didn’t want to hold it up any longer. If I come up with a better ending, I’ll edit in the new one at a later date. I’ve got more ideas line up, and hopefully moving on to a fresh subject will mean faster posting, but I won’t try and make promises this time. Hopefully, you guys are happy with this, and as always, feedback and critiques are welcome.
Thank you, everyone.
This picture was the product of a smoke’n hot role play session I had with cerebral a couple weeks ago. He intends to make it into a fleshed out story but until then I will post the RP that we had for your enjoyment soon. This big guy “Tex” so named for his nose art (Texas Hold’em) befriends 3 women who become his ground service crew and they all Lust after him.
[1/2/15, 3:57:26 PM] RATBAT: it was a calm spring day on the tarmac, This place was the Littlefield military history museum’s Aerial wing and it was closed for holiday. Only technicians (machine doctors) and the machines that lived there in the compound would be sunning themselves on the tarmac. The place was far away from the freeway and from most prying eyes, but not far from the touch of the few devoted humans who volunteered themselves to the old veterans now awakened as living machines in the world
[1/2/15, 3:59:02 PM] RATBAT: The place housed 40 residents not including the tanks/trucks/half-tracks and other fighting vehicles who had free run of the other side of the long airport-like museum.
[1/2/15, 3:59:59 PM] RATBAT: everyone here , got a stipend from the government if they greed to remain as living museum pieces to educate the remainder of the human population about early technological advancements and the horrors of war.
[1/2/15, 4:01:11 PM] RATBAT: none of these machines remembered there time in that war over a hundred years ago by now.. but they were knowledgeable none the less of maintained service records and kills, miles flown, paint schemes in old photos.. the works
[1/2/15, 4:03:09 PM] RATBAT: Living and working at the museum was often boring.. that is, until someone got frisky. no one was spared the insatiable desire for physical contact, not even the old bombers who hung low on there landing gears hoping the people would give them a rubdown over sensitive wiring and panels.
[1/2/15, 4:04:48 PM] RATBAT: it was so bad sometimes the machines would beg the humans to stay the night.. watch movies with them… sleep with them.. anything to break the monotony
[1/2/15, 4:07:48 PM] RATBAT: in the breezy morning on the tarmac, an old brown B-17 sporting vintage decals raised his body up to feel the air and prepared for a wash down by a defacto “pit crew” of weekend technicians who flocked to this establishment just to be close with a living piece of history
[1/2/15, 4:10:05 PM] RATBAT: when one got close.. hed bend his frame to meet their small wonderful bodies and brush against them in some way. The girls knew he had “habits” but he was a really nice guy, so they set about encouraging his excitement with kisses and provocative body motions.
[1/2/15, 4:10:11 PM] RATBAT: mmm..
[1/2/15, 4:10:20 PM] RATBAT: (I don’t even have a name for this guy)
[1/2/15, 4:17:04 PM] CerebralError: (Tex. His nose art is of a pinup girl with two decks of cards covering her ‘modesty’ with the words Texas Hold’ Em! So, Tex for short.)
[1/2/15, 4:32:19 PM] RATBAT: (girls moaning huh yes Tex! fuck me please! yes Tex!”
[1/2/15, 4:32:28 PM] RATBAT: and him smiling
[1/2/15, 4:33:09 PM] RATBAT: (the machines aren’t modest about sex like humans are, for them.. its a natural thing even if they aren’t exactly natural)
1/2/15, 4:39:14 PM] CerebralError: (Okay, let me read over your post again. What are the names of the girls?)
[1/2/15, 4:40:00 PM] RATBAT: “April, may, and June”
[1/2/15, 4:40:01 PM] RATBAT: lol
[1/2/15, 4:40:31 PM] CerebralError: (XD Alright.)
[1/2/15, 4:41:07 PM] RATBAT: pretend they are nicknames
[1/2/15, 5:00:40 PM] CerebralError: Tex sighed pleasantly from the combination of warm sun on his broad wings and tail and the feeling of the three beautiful women that graced his old fuselage with their presence. He could feel the brushes and rags scrubbing along his old airframe, cool water trickling down onto the warm tarmac, evaporating under the sun. Every now and then one of the girls would steal a kiss along his body, April placed one along his cockpit housing as she stood on his wing. May stood on a stepladder beneath him, sneaking in a little kiss on the flat side of his chin turret. June was down by the ball turret, just behind his bomb bay. Of them all, her touches were by far the most stimulating, and made him grunt and wiggle his massive tail. “Now, ladies…” He spoke in a pleasant southern Drawl, giving his full name ‘Texas’ a bit more weight behind it. “Ahm sure y’all can’t wait to get your hands on all this, but there’s plenty a’ me to go ’round…” He growled playfully, those massive, turbo supercharged engines on his wings giving a firm cough. His whole airframe vibrated slightly, the plane shifting slightly on his landing gear, grinning as he looked out at his trio of caretakers. And they -were- his. They were only assigned to him, he’d checked that. He was also sure that they didn’t have any boyfriends or husbands on the side – he’d made a favor of one of the helicopters that still made regular flights to check up on them. These were -his- girls, and he’d treat them like he’d once treated his old crew, putting their lives ahead of his own if he had to.
[1/2/15, 5:11:37 PM] RATBAT: Between Kisses, the lovely June had glided her fingertips into his delicate crevasses. Her, like the other women.. couldn’t understand this lovely attraction to the bigger machines. Something about it still felt taboo even though Tex was legally a “man” . His big powerful body and the strum of his 4 powerful “heartbeats” vibrating through her fingertips. He was right, there was enough of him to go around, especially considering that Tex’s desire was as big as his wingspan. “I love your accent Tex, what was it like over in Houston? ” the girls made small talk and giggled whenever someone touched something they perhaps should touch even more.. The plane folk, like the other machine folk revved up their RPMs whenever excited . April was the tallest and had a little bit of muscle on her, when she stood on his tail she could lean over to meet his side gaze and gauge weather or not the scrub job was sufficient.
[1/2/15, 5:13:42 PM] RATBAT: May could barely hold back- she was the littlest of the 3 and want to put Tex in her mouth, in her body somehow.. She dripped with pheromones but kept as quiet and serious as one would expect of the beefeaters in Britain . before long soap fell upon her breasts and she rubbed her chest against his ball turret and under hull while she kissed. A sponge bath fit for a king.
[1/2/15, 5:14:29 PM] RATBAT: “I hear Bombers got a lot of women back in the old days.. the humans ..I wonder how much you would have gotten.”
[1/2/15, 5:17:20 PM] RATBAT: May was going to refill the bucket with soap but she dropped the bottle of solution and leaned over provocatively grinding her ass against his glass. One would think that deep down everyone was both excited and terrified, maybe even a little bit lonely. In the future they lived in, it was hard for anyone to find a date..
[1/2/15, 5:19:08 PM] RATBAT: June perked up from pressing her forehead against his body to feel its vibrations, “Tex lemmie.. lemmie please you.” April times in, “Yeah! tell us what you want tex, we’ll do it.”
[1/2/15, 5:21:55 PM] RATBAT: April dropped her workman’s coveralls to reveal what the old Bomber already knew- she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. She looked at him seductively and he looked back. The trucks and half tracks would blow their engine blocks with jealously if they ever decided to wheel their lazy asses over her and see what was going on.
[1/2/15, 5:58:34 PM] CerebralError: Tex’s engines coughed again, one of his props blurring into near invisibility for a second, black smoke puffing from beneath the cowling, leaving stains on the freshly cleaned wing. The B-17 shuddered from his plexiglass nose to his towering tail fin as June slipped her fingers in the seam between the ball turret and his fuselage, and he was very careful to keep from moving it, not wanting to catch her fingers in there. He panted, his hot breath washing over May’s soapy breasts. Even though he couldn’t see her, he could sense her, feel her, -smell- her. The woman was practically gushing with lust, the scent driving the old bomber wild. “It was much warmer than it is here, and Ah didn’t have y’all lovly ladies to take care a’ me there…” He said, a panel opening just in front of his bomb bay, the familiar sight of flexible manipulator arms sliding out, the moving towards May, who was the closest to them. “A’course, Ah could fly y’all there…find some ol’ private runway, spend the rest a’ our lives there…” He closed his eyes and let out a hearty sigh at the thought of the girls in Daisy Dukes and bikini tops…or even less… He glanced over at April as she undressed herself on his wing, his eyes sparkling eagerly. His engines roared again, scattering dust behind him on the tarmac. “Well, y’all could start by followin’ April’s lead here…” His manipulator hands slip up to May’s shoulders, metallic fingers pinching the straps of her coveralls and tugging them off the sides of her shoulders and down her arms, letting her hefty chest come bouncing out. Down by his ball turret, another port opened just in front of it, the plane’s shaft starting to emerge. It was already dripping with excitement, silvery droplets pattering on the tarmac beneath it. Smooth and metallic at the tip, it became more mechanical near the base, almost becoming a series of pipes and wires as it disappeared inside him. “June, darlin’, would ya’ mind takin’ care of that?”
[1/2/15, 6:03:45 PM] CerebralError: (Fun fact, the B-17 was dubbed the ‘Flying Porcupine’ by the Luftwaffe because it had so many guns.)
[1/4/15, 10:03:53 PM] RATBAT: [1/2/15, 6:20:38 PM] RATBAT: ;;June didn’t skip a beat. she practically stumbled over herself to get at his most sensitive metallic parts. remembering all of those lovely pictures she had scene of him flying and bombing and his lovely southern drawl she wanted nothing more then to hear his engine sputter and roar. The old prop engine folk tend to spin there props full speed causing a gale force wind before they climaxed- it was the most exciting part and all 3 o them knew the sound would be utterly deafening. ;;she took him into her warm slick hands and felt the aliens of his heavy machine cock. the segments, the indentations and coils, the tubes.. she caressed it.. felt it.. needed it. It throbbed in her hand- all 18 inches of it. the most these girls could take was 7-8 inches, but it still felt tight and hot to ol’ Tex who passionately coiled a tendril around the back of Junes head while she palmed him. “Oh tex.. you’ve spring a hot leak. We’ve gotta do something..”
[1/2/15, 6:24:16 PM] RATBAT: May now freshly naked dragged her tongue along the underside of his wing headed to his ball turret almost shaking with joy. Tex’s tendrils where especially attentive to the “small one” and wrapped a mechadendrite or 4 under her heavy breasts to feel the softness and the weight of them. she leaned down next to June and took the B-17’s big tip into her mouth. It oozed with silvery heat and she struggled to suck and stroke him into her little mouth.
[1/2/15, 6:26:45 PM] RATBAT: ;;her hands glided up his segmented shaft as if to feed him into her lips. when she couldn’t handle it anymore she got on all fours next to June and pushes her face down on the wet tarmac with her ass in the air. ;;Junes own hand ventured down south to touch herself till tex’s own tendril coiled and pulled her fingers away from her flush bead- her clitoris. (no- that would be saved for him.)
[1/2/15, 6:27:39 PM] RATBAT: Like all machines, they didn’t like their mates to masturbate next to them. it was like ‘stealing their job away from them. their personal pleasure.
[1/2/15, 6:30:54 PM] RATBAT: April got naked without a moments thought and climbed over the bombers canopy to kiss around his eyes and mouth his rivet lines. her thighs and butt were so toned for a female, it was unusual but nevertheless Te had tasted and drank from her sweet waters many times before. the thought made his tail rudder wiggle like a dog wags his tail
[1/2/15, 6:32:22 PM] RATBAT: “I love you Tex” ;;she moaned and sucked on his armor, positively drowned out by the increasing rumbles the wily old bomber torqued up.
[1/2/15, 6:34:06 PM] RATBAT: May spread her cheeks apart and backed into Tex’s flared tip. He was so big it would take additional effort from the large machine to make things more comfortable. She was the smallest and tightest.. but her opening quivered to feel stretched around him. she moaned. “Please tex….please…”
[1/2/15, 7:02:47 PM] CerebralError: Tex groaned as June’s hands grasped his shaft, her hands instantly getting covered in the thick, silvery fluid. Both engines on his right wing were roaring away now, propellers spinning at idling speed, pressing his right tire against the pavement as it tried to push him forward. “Ah’ll have to leave it in ‘yer capable hands, June…” Tex grinned, baring his sharp teeth for a moment. While he wasn’t as nimble as one of the fighters, he was still one of the sky’s predators, and the numerous gun turrets he sported proved to give any fighter plane a run for its money if it chose to tangle with it in midair. His cock throbbed and spurted softly, spattering warmly on May’s face as she kneeled down to service him. More dendrites spooled down, wrapping around May’s breasts and thighs, a hand stroking June’s back. A plane of his size was able to produce plenty of cum, leaking down May’s chin and splattering heavily on her breasts. The bomber creaked and groaned as he felt her little tongue flicking against the tip of his shaft, and then she pulled away from him. But he knew what she was doing, and soon he felt her hips pressing against his tip, wriggling with need. Any human would find himself overwhelmed, but even at his age Tex had no problem with handling all three of them. He probably could have handled a few more, to be honest, but this way he could give loving attention to all of them, without anyone feeling left out. He snatched June’s hand away from her pussy, even as April climbed up on top of his nose, straddling him. His eyes were drawn hungrily to the slit between the toned woman’s thighs, a few more dendrites curling up from beneath the chin turret to slither up her legs.
With his wings clear, the remaining two propellers blared into motion, the old bomber straining at his brakes, also serving to press his heavy shaft against May’s tight, wet cunt. The dendrites around her legs tightened slightly, a pleasant squeeze, as two thicker hands emerged to grip her waist, pressing her back further onto his shaft. One inch, two inch, deeper and deeper. Slowly at first. Another dendrite slithered between June’s thighs, teasing the sensitive nub of her clitoris, as the hand on the back of her head pushed her face close to his shaft again.
April continued to grind herself against his cockpit, right in front of his eyes. Tex panted lewdly now, his gray tongue hanging out slightly as he picked April up with ease. He maneuvered her body down, pressing the cool glass of his nosecone between her thighs, before he swung her underneat the chin turret to his mouth. Without waiting a moment longer, he slathered his tongue between her legs, up her stomach, and to her breasts. More manipulators held her comfortably in place, as his tongue slurped back down, beneath her ass, and then plunging the tip – just as thick as his cock – into her pussy.
[1/2/15, 6:20:38 PM] RATBAT: ;;June didn’t skip a beat. she practically stumbled over herself to get at his most sensitive metallic parts. remembering all of those lovely pictures she had scene of him flying and bombing and his lovely southern drawl she wanted nothing more then to hear his engine sputter and roar. The old prop engine folk tend to spin there props full speed causing a gale force wind before they climaxed- it was the most exciting part and all 3 o them knew the sound would be utterly deafening. ;;she took him into her warm slick hands and felt the aliens of his heavy machine cock. the segments, the indentations and coils, the tubes.. she caressed it.. felt it.. needed it. It throbbed in her hand- all 18 inches of it. the most these girls could take was 7-8 inches, but it still felt tight and hot to ol’ Tex who passionately coiled a tendril around the back of junes head while she palmed him. “Oh tex.. you’ve spring a hot leak. We’ve gotta do something..”
[1/2/15, 6:24:16 PM] RATBAT: May now freshly naked dragged her tongue along the underside of his wing headed to his ball turret almost shaking with joy. Tex’s tendrils where especially attentive to the “small one” and wrapped a mechadendrite or 4 under her heavy breasts to feel the softness and the weight of them. she leaned down next to june and took the B-17’s big tip into her mouth. It oozed with silvery heat and she struggled to suck and stroke him into her little mouth.
[1/2/15, 6:26:45 PM] RATBAT: ;;her hands glided up his segmented shaft as if to feed him into her lips. when she couldn’t handle it anymore she got on all fours next to June and pushes her face down on the wet tarmac with her ass in the air. ;;Junes own hand ventured down south to touch herself till tex’s own tendril coiled and pulled her fingers away from her flush bead- her clitorus. (no- that would be saved for him.)
[1/2/15, 6:27:39 PM] RATBAT: Like all machines, they didn’t like their mates to masturbate next to them. it was like ‘stealing their job away from them. their personal pleasure.
[1/2/15, 6:30:54 PM] RATBAT: April got naked without a moments thought and climbed over the bombers cannopy to kiss around his eyes and mouth his rivet lines. her thighs and butt were so toned for a female, it was unusual but nevertheless Te had tasted and drank from her sweet waters many times before. the thought made his tail rudder wiggle like a dog wags his tail
[1/2/15, 6:32:22 PM] RATBAT: “I love you Tex” ;;she moaned and sucked on his armor, positively drowned out by the increasing rumbles the wily old bomber torqued up.
[1/2/15, 6:34:06 PM] RATBAT: May spread her cheeks apart and backed into Tex’s flared tip. He was so big it would take additional effort from the large machine to make things more comfortable. She was the smallest and tightest.. but her opening quivered to feel stretched around him. she moaned. “Please tex….please…”
[1/7/15, 9:34:15 PM] RATBAT: Tex groaned as June’s hands grasped his shaft, her hands instantly getting covered in the thick, silvery fluid. Both engines on his right wing were roaring away now, propellers spinning at idling speed, pressing his right tire against the pavement as it tried to push him forward. “Ah’ll have to leave it in ‘yer capable hands, June…” Tex grinned, baring his sharp teeth for a moment. While he wasn’t as nimble as one of the fighters, he was still one of the sky’s predators, and the numerous gun turrets he sported proved to give any fighter plane a run for its money if it chose to tangle with it in midair. His cock throbbed and spurted softly, spattering warmly on May’s face as she kneeled down to service him. More dendrites spooled down, wrapping around May’s breasts and thighs, a hand stroking June’s back. A plane of his size was able to produce plenty of cum, leaking down May’s chin and splattering heavily on her breasts. The bomber creaked and groaned as he felt her little tongue flicking against the tip of his shaft, and then she pulled away from him. But he knew what she was doing, and soon he felt her hips pressing against his tip, wriggling with need. Any human would find himself overwhelmed, but even at his age Tex had no problem with handling all three of them. He probably could have handled a few more, to be honest, but this way he could give loving attention to all of them, without anyone feeling left out. He snatched June’s hand away from her pussy, even as April climbed up on top of his nose, straddling him. His eyes were drawn hungrily to the slit between the toned woman’s thighs, a few more dendrites curling up from beneath the chin turret to slither up her legs.
With his wings clear, the remaining two propellers blared into motion, the old bomber straining at his brakes, also serving to press his heavy shaft against May’s tight, wet cunt. The dendrites around her legs tightened slightly, a pleasant squeeze, as two thicker hands emerged to grip her waist, pressing her back further onto his shaft. One inch, two inch, deeper and deeper. Slowly at first. Another dendrite slithered between June’s thighs, teasing the sensitive nub of her clitoris, as the hand on the back of her head pushed her face close to his shaft again.
April continued to grind herself against his cockpit, right in front of his eyes. Tex panted lewdly now, his gray tongue hanging out slightly as he picked April up with ease. He maneuvered her body down, pressing the cool glass of his nosecone between her thighs, before he swung her underneat the chin turret to his mouth. Without waiting a moment longer, he slathered his tongue between her legs, up her stomach, and to her breasts. More manipulators held her comfortably in place, as his tongue slurped back down, beneath her ass, and then plunging the tip – just as thick as his cock – into her pussy.
[1/2/15, 7:26:08 PM] RATBAT: June positively feasted on the base of Tex bomber cock feeling the throbbing reverberate down his sensitive shaft. She felt him grow hotter in her lips and hands and positively enjoyed laying in the shadow of big dangerous machine silhouette. He wasn’t human- but he was still all man. the women where too drunk with desire to notice he was clenching his breaks to keep from catapulting down the runway from all the expenditure of energy behind his turboprops. “How does this feel tex.. hows this?” Tex’s fluids dripped off her chin as she came up for air. From this vantage point she could see part of tex’s excited member disappear into May who bit her lip and cried out at the slight pain and feel of being pumped full with heavy silvery pre. his own tendrils joined in to spread her wide for him-so he could disappear into and feel her clench around his throbbing mass . When he couldn’t fill her anymore, he would pull back slightly and then force forward to build up a pleasant rhythm.
[1/2/15, 7:29:37 PM] RATBAT: April clenched he powerful thighs against his body while Tex’s tongue venture over and under and between her warm core. She cried out “yes! Oh God! yes”.. to a low moan..
[1/2/15, 7:32:11 PM] RATBAT: with one half of his sensitive probe in the mouth of a beautiful eager woman, and the other half of his cock buried deeply in another- the sheer stink of pheromones overwhelmed his olfactory sensors and the send waves of hot stimulation up into his central core to be enjoyed by his systems.
[1/2/15, 7:35:27 PM] RATBAT: April moans “How do i taste my sweet bomber?” While May, face planted against the ground grits her teeth and pants like a dog at the wonderful pulse pounding speed tex was kicking up against her vagina. it made a wet squelching noise and spurts of silver forced out of her opening when he forced deep inside. a waterfall of steaming silver liquid formed between Tex ball turret and both women. “Please don’t stop Tex. please..”
[1/7/15, 9:34:48 PM] RATBAT: The thick, heavy shaft vibrated inside her, the echoes of 4,800 horsepower feeling better than any vibrator ever could. And no vibrator had Tex’s length and girth, or made her feel so full and warm. Mercury cum spilled from between her legs, squirting around his shaft as he drove it deeper inside of her. The bomber was straining, almost leaning forward into her. Two metal hands spread her cheeks, pushing her a little farther back on his shaft and stretching her as far as she could go. His cum pulsed against the very depths of her womb, gushing out between them. Tex pulled back out almost to the tip, leaving May feeling empty inside again, until his next thrust pushed him back in entirely. There was still ten inches of his shaft exposed to the air, and that was in June’s very capable hands and mouth. Her stimulation to his cock only made the amount of cum pulsing into May’s pussy increase. Both women would be feeling the effect by now, that delightful tingle spreading through their nerves, pulsating in their brains. Even April, who was only being slathered by his tongue, would be feeling euphoric as it seeped in through her skin, and when she suckled on the very tip of his tongue, which was more than enough to fill her mouth. He couldn’t respond to June or April with his mouth full, but the heavy shudders and the howling of his props would be indication enough of just how much he enjoyed it. The wind dried the sweat and water from May and June’s skin, like a giant fan, while the air smelled heavily of his exhaust. Again and again, Tex pulled May’s hips against his cock, pushing as deep as he could. The puddle beneath them was large enough that May’s breasts smeared into it, her nipples leaving little lines in the silvery fluid. He skidded forward on his brakes slightly, managing to slip another inch inside of her, more than she had ever taken of him before. His engines howled at maximum output, the roar given off by those four radials able to be heard across all of Littlefield. Tex howled himself, his shaft throbbing again and again as more and more cum pulsed inside her, more than she could ever hope to contain, and so it poured out between them in messy, silvery ropes.
The bomber shivered again, panting against April’s cunt, his hot breath rolling over her sweaty body, as he gently slipped May off his nearly steaming cock, caressing her with his tendrils, running his fingers through her hair. There was a whining sound of hydraulics, and the doors to his bomb bay popped open slightly. Instead of dropping open entirely, they only spread wide enough for a dendrite to dip inside and pull out a body pillow. Setting it on the tarmac beneath him, he cradled May’s body and set her down on it, rubbing her belly gently as her turned his sexual attentions back to June. The tendril stimulating her clit and pussy was joined by a second, and a third, the dendrites coiling around one another like a cable. He plunged it into her sex, far more flexible than his cock was, able to coil and loop around and do all sorts of -incredible- things that no human could ever hope to accomplish.
[1/2/15, 8:32:28 PM] RATBAT: June looked back at the screaming damn near multi-orgasmic spectacle of what had befallen tex’s lovely assault on May’s pussy and her subsequent tap out as she lay cushioned and caressed gently by the big plane. The B-17’s turned his attentions to the 2 woman warriors who were left to tackle this beast. April had come to really enjoy the articulate flicks and pushes of tex’s bizarre metal tongue as it tasted and exploded her deaths. She felt so full from him , and the muscles in her abdomen pulsed to the delight that was his tip against her G-spot. No coherent words could escape her lips.. she simply remain face and forehead pressed against his glass and tendrils securing her back and arms to her sides. she just had to take it.. to feel it. the heat and devotion coming from ol’ tex. June’s knees weekend and she nearly fell over from the assault on her nethers. His tendril jack hammered and teased so that she would be very wet for him.. this was working to great affect because June could no longer hold her own head and shoulder sup, she was putty in his manipulator arms.
[1/2/15, 8:33:09 PM] RATBAT: F– f.. ;;she hissed and grinder her forehead against the pavement;; “fuck me Tex.”
[1/2/15, 8:33:43 PM] RATBAT: her ass now raised into the air in a similar fashion the way may’s had, throbbing and ready for his girth.
[1/7/15, 9:35:18 PM] RATBAT: Tex teased June relentlessly, using those braided manipulators to bring her to the edge of climax, then stop, only to repeat the process until she was a quivering, almost speechless mess. When she presented her ass to him, he shook his head slightly, pulling the coiled dendrites out with a wet slurping sound, lifting June up off her hands and knees and spinning her over so that she was on her back, laying in the warm pool of silvery cum. A few of his dendrites supported her so he wasn’t raking her back and forth on the tarmac. His shaft quivered above her, another dollop of silvery cum dribbling down onto her belly, pooling in her bellybutton. He lifted her hips up, his shaft pressing against her entrance…but he didn’t push himself inside of her. Instead, he rubbed his tip against her entrance, and then slid it up over her groin and onto her belly, gliding her along until his shaft touched her breasts, leaving a great smear of his excitement along her front. He exhaled, pulling back until he was at her entrance again, rubbing her and teasing her, before he slid his shaft along her belly again. “Ya seem to have sprung a leak yerself there, June…” He rumbled huskily, taking a momentary break from tonging April’s pussy. Her juices dribbled down to the ground, smeared along the underside of his fuselage. “Ah think Ah can plug it, but Ah’m afraid yer gonna have to ask.” He continued to gently tend to May’s body, lightly touching her belly, her breasts, her pussy, drawing out her afterglow for as long as possible as he satisfied these two other women.
[1/7/15, 9:35:27 PM] RATBAT: Tex finally obliged the needy woman, sinking his shaft into her pussy. Hers was more easily accomidating than May’s, and the amounts of lubrication meant that he glided in with relative ease, feeling her walls clenching around his length as he pushed in, five inches, six inches, all the way up to nine inches. He bounced her firmly on his cock, his larger hands holding her firmly as he bore down on her. The ball turret whined, the hefty ‘Cheyenne-style’ tail’s rudder and elevators pivoted back and forth, his flaps and ailerons extending to their maximum positions. His engines howled deafeningly loud, gusting past them as he continued to buck into her, tweaking at her nipples with two of his dendrite tips. He slid into her until she could hold no more of him, their essense mixing and gushing out of her, down her ass, dripping onto the floor. Again, the great bomber grit his teeth and hunched up, empyting a heavy, warm load inside a human’s pussy, filling June up like only he could. Even the bomber was starting to get a little winded, but he still had more than enough energy for April, who was already a quivering mess from his oral attentions during this. As he slid out of June, a thick spurt of his cum jetted from her as her quivering muscles clenched on open air. Again his bomb bay popped open, and he pulled out another pillow, setting it down under his other wing for June, setting her down on top of it and giving her the same tender ministrations he was giving May.
Finally, it was April’s turn, the toned, athletic woman…her skin shining with sweat as he lowered her from his mouth, transferring her from one set of dendrites to the next. He didn’t wait for her to ask, he didn’t wait for her to beg. He wanted her to -scream-. Scream his name so that the world could hear it over his powerful Cyclone engines. Dendrites spread her legs wide, and he shoved his length into her without preamble. He clutched her to his fuselage, humping at her as best as his rigid airframe would allow. Of them all, April had been able to take the most of his length inside her – she’d been practicing for him, after all – and he was going to put that practice to use, fitting in every inch that he could.
[1/2/15, 9:37:30 PM] RATBAT: oh man..
[1/2/15, 9:37:34 PM] RATBAT: this bomber is so lucky
[1/2/15, 9:37:41 PM] CerebralError: (^-^)
[1/2/15, 9:37:48 PM] CerebralError: (He certainly is!)
[1/2/15, 9:43:39 PM] RATBAT: With nothing left to tie back his speech all the women could hear his grunts and moans. most of it translated into engine revs over gale force winds. None even cared who saw, it just felt natural and good. April squeezed the B-17’s pulsing hot shaft within her becoming quite high and tingly . head head flew back and her eyes shut tight. her teeth bared and her tongue stuck out. UAAHH!!! AGH’ she sounded as he pounded her little body against his ball. he could feel from his seniors that her hear beat was elevated, her breathing was sporadic, her brainwave patterns alight. She really Did enjoy him.. and hopefully soon, these women would truly accept him accept a bond with one perhaps.. a family perhaps.. The machine despite just recently being reborn, was still an old and one of the few few of his kind left. This anxiety and desire permitted through much of all post cold war and earlier machines. So he fucked her, fucked her like he hungered to keep her. “My love..” her toes curled.
[1/2/15, 9:45:34 PM] RATBAT: the tendrils that caressed the women, became in turn caressed by the females as well. both tired and panting, they asked, ‘cum for us tex.. ;;pant;; we want to hear your joy..”
[1/2/15, 9:46:41 PM] RATBAT: April nipped at one of his tendrils and kissed his hull. a strong feeling growing in he belly. she would cum soon if Tex’s relentless assault continued on. She could barely endure such power.
[1/2/15, 9:47:14 PM] RATBAT: “I am yours tex. Cum in me.. enjoy me..”
[1/2/15, 9:51:21 PM] RATBAT: May and June raised their arms up to touch his wing, or get him to slower it slightly so they could feel it against them. the sight was went and chaotic and tender. May’s young eyelids heavy and closing.. now she could only hear the crying out of her big compatriot April so assaulted by this loving beast of steel and rivets
[1/2/15, 9:51:43 PM] RATBAT: she whispered to him. ‘we love you just the way you are Tex. ”
[1/2/15, 9:53:04 PM] RATBAT: This is what all machines want to hear.. just complete acceptance of them.
[1/2/15, 9:53:12 PM] RATBAT: not fear nor mistrust..
[1/2/15, 9:53:21 PM] RATBAT: they just want to be loved like humans want to be loved
[1/2/15, 10:09:22 PM] CerebralError: Tex was growling and grunting, thrusting April down onto his cock, nearly a foot of his metallic masculinity buried inside her. Her toned body rippled with pleasure, squeezing down on him firmly, practically milking him. The bomber’s engines thundered, deafening to the girls beneath him, their hair being blown back in the gusts. He was redlining his engines, his throttles maxed out and rattling his whole airframe. His tires strained against the tarmac, the force from his engines trying to push him forward. Tex closed his eyes, holding April tight against his underbelly. He could barely hear the whispers of the girls beneath him, but he -could- hear them. The B-17 clenched, crying out loudly as he spilled his largest load yet, practically exploding inside April’s cunt. The backwash surged out from around their coupling, but not a single inch of her womb had escaped from being coated with his seed. Tex continued to pulse and throb inside her for several long moments as his engines slowly spooled down to more survivable rpms, and then finally puttering out. Gallons of his cum pooled beneath his airframe, the girls bodies splattered with it, their bodies glistening. Tex sagged on his landing gear, panting long and hard. Gently, he pulled April free of his cock, releasing a final spurt that sloshed over her belly and dripped off her firm abs. He reached into his bomb bay and retrieved a final pillow, laying her down upon it and gingerly rubbing her breasts and stomach. All of them were spent, utterly and completely, and Tex felt a great amount of satisfaction inside. “I love you girls…all of you…” He rumbled softly, shielding them from the sun, and continuing to express his love to his lovely ladies.
Of course, they would all have to wash up again when they recovered…