Girl und Panzer: The Yankee's in Tank

Chapter 9

The Seige Part 1

Just as Houston had anticipated, he watched schools from California, Florida, New York, and Iowa depart. The school commander bid their farewells to Houston. He nodded at them and saluted for their work, and they saluted back, wishing him and the other major school powers who were staying, luck.

As he saw them boarding the Carrier that would take them back to America, another carrier was dropping off reinforcements to help with manpower. The American Tankery League had sent professionals to the field. Houston said nothing, only staring at the reinforcements until the surroundings slowly quieted down. He could only remember the sounds of battle and the screams on the radio from the people he once knew... in Dallas.

Flashback

Dallas, Texas

The scene showed a sixteen-year-old Houston with a dirt-covered face and a slightly torn tankery uniform. He was carrying a wounded fifteen-year-old boy wearing a U.S. WW2 fighter pilot uniform.

"HANG IN THERE!! I'M GETTING US OUT OF HERE!" Houston shouted as he continued carrying the wounded boy who had been shot down.

"Don... It hurts..." The boy spoke weakly, trying to cover his wound as he slowly bled.

"It's going to be alright! Just stay with me!" Houston said with a trembling tone as he held the pilot in his arms.

Quickly entering a destroyed building, Houston gently laid the pilot down and checked for wounds. He found a piece of metal rod sticking out of the pilot's stomach, and it was lodged inside. Doing his best to save the pilot, Houston's tankery glove became stained with blood. Just then, he heard the marching of the enemy school team approaching.

"Don... Are we going to die?" The boy asked, tears running down his cheek.

"No... Red... we are not going to die," Houston said, doing his best to hold back his tears...

End of Flashback

Commander Houston," Scott spoke up, catching Houston's attention as he stared off into space. Houston turned to his tank gunner, his face showing a worried expression.

"What's wrong?" Houston asked, turning to Scott.

"Are you alright?" Scott looked at his Commander, standing by his side.

"I'm fine, just... I really hope that the people the League has sent us are as skilled as they claim," Houston said, spitting on the ground before heading back to his camp where the rest of his unit was. Scott watched Houston's back and sighed, following him.

Returning to his camp, Houston pulled out a pack of cigarettes he had been smuggling and lit one. As he smoked, he observed the League players checking their M103 heavy tanks, counting their men. They had nearly eight hundred and fifty men, but with his forces divided to defend their lines, Houston's main concern was for his and Graham's Vice Commander's ability to defend the city with limited men and supplies behind enemy lines.

All he could hope for was that they could hold the city a little longer until he formulated a plan to break through enemy lines. For the people who lived in this land, the city was known as Sweskia, but for Jefferson and Graham Vice Commander and the men holding the city within enemy territory, he dubbed it "The Alamo."

Houston received reinforcements from the South while, in the North, just as Maho had predicted, the Federation unit also arrived a week earlier than the American reinforcements. The port town was bustling with college women offloading their Chieftain British tanks. Despite the gains and losses on both sides, the chain of command remained in effect. Houston would still be the Marshal Commander for the American League Team, with orders to be followed by Graham, Muller, Elijah, and Wesley.