Chieftains

Sergeant Davis saw the leading T-64 just as Captain Willis' shell struck it below its main gun. He thought that Bravo Four must have fired as the tank was now in position some eighty meters to his left. But as he glanced towards it now, he could see no gunsmoke.

He was searching the ground for other British tanks when Inkester fired without warning. Davis had no time to duck into the fighting compartment. The blast almost deafened him. He dropped inside and jerked the hatch closed. 'You okay, Shadwell?'

'Yes.'

Davis noticed the loader struggling, and wished he was better positioned to help the man. It seemed an age before the breech slammed closed and Shadwell shouted; 'Loaded.' Inkester fired immediately. 'Two, Sarge. Two…one after another. How's that for bloody shooting?'

'Shut up. Bravo Four, you okay?' Davis's head was still ringing from the sound of the gun.

'Affirmative, Sarge.'

'Fuckin' hurry up, Shad.' Inkester was shouting, working the turret around to the left. The Chieftain bucked again.

'Okay Bravo Four, get moving, fast.' Sealey didn't need encouragement. He was imagining a dozen guns ranging on the spot where his tank rested. His driver spun the tank on the road, and felt relief as the tracks bit into the tarmac surface.

Get going you bastard, get going! Davis knew he had to give Sealey enough time to get well down the road and into another firing position. But he was finding it almost impossible to resist the temptation to follow him. There was movement on his horizon, a turret top below a ridge of ground.

'Bravo Two this is Four. In position.'

Inkester had been monitoring the net, and shouted at DeeJay. Bravo Two wallowed for a second and then spun, showering sparks from her tracks.

The road took the Chieftain diagonally away from the advancing Russian armour, its smooth surface giving them the edge in speed, while the bank at the roadside was good cover. An enemy gunner would have to be damned efficient to get a sure sight on their fast-moving turret, thought Davis. Pray to God there weren't any helicopters! He pushed up the hatch again. The road curved to the right and he could see Bravo Four. 'Okay Bravo Four, we're going on past you.'

Sealey shouted back in the radio, 'You're fucking mad. I'm not waiting here.'

Davis changed the tone of his voice. 'Bravo Four, this is Bravo Two. You make a move before I radio, Sealey you bastard, and I'll put a Sabot right through your bloody hull. Out.' There was no comment from the shocked corporal.

A thousand meters farther down the road Davis stopped the tank and swung the turret ninety degrees to the right before calling Bravo Four. A couple of minutes later Sealey's Chieftain thundered past them at almost thirty miles an hour, shaking the ground as it went.

'Bravo Four, this is Bravo Two. I'm holding here for a while. Get yourself well back, but keep us in range.'

'Wilco, Bravo Two.' Sealey sounded subdued.

There wouldn't be long to wait, decided Davis. The battle smoke was drifting parallel with the road, and the visibility in the fields was better than six hundred meters. 'Traverse right, Inkester. Hold it…there…BMP, alongside the hedge.'

'I see it…come on love, come on now…' Inkester was talking to the gun as he fired. He yelled: 'Hit…hit, Sarge.'

Davis missed the destruction of the troop carrier, but heard Inkester's shout of satisfaction. 'Shut up, Inkester…Bravo Four this is Bravo Two, we're moving again.' Davis was trying to find the road on his map. It curved north, taking them directly across the line of the Soviet advance! They would have to leave it and move across the fields towards the west. He stuffed the map between his legs and pressed his eyes to the sight. It was aligned on a T-64. He flicked on the times ten magnification just as Inkester's shell struck; it was impressive, watching it happen only a few meters away. 'Move, DeeJay. Get her rolling…Bravo Four as soon as we reach you, move off…we'll head west off the road and get out of here…'

'Wilco, Sarge…' Corporal Sealey acknowledged gratefully.

'BMPs…BMPs…' Inkester's voice rose. The computer locked to its target, adjusting the gun as the tank moved. Inkester fired.

'Go left now, DeeJay…keep with us Bravo Four…Inkester, BMP three o'clock…don't lose it…Bravo Four, stay close…we're heading west of the small wood ahead.' The gun roared once more. 'Okay, Inkester, leave 'em.'