Girl und Panzer: The Yankee's in Tank

Chapter 12

"Come on, lads, get to your tanks!" shouted one of the Scottish American soldiers.

The scene depicts English, Irish, and Scottish Americans boarding their heavy assault Excelsior tanks. Engineer crews remain in cover within the trenches they constructed, clutching PIAT launchers and holding the front lines of their Forward Operating Base (FOB) city.

Amidst the soldiers settling into their tanks, the sixteen-year-old English-American Commander, Wesley, strides alongside his men. His Conqueror tank lingers behind him. He scans his men and addresses them.

"Our fellow soldiers under Marshal Commander Houston fought to defend the city of Sweskia beyond enemy lines... Now, the battle of Chorley is upon us. The outcome of this battle will determine who emerges victorious in this city—will it be us or the combined forces of St. Gloriana and Ooarai, who dare to lay siege? Commander Darjeeling knows she must break us within this city we hold, my comrades... Or risk defeat."

"Witnessing Vice Commander Jefferson, Joey, and their troops, along with the reinforcements led by Commander Muller and Elijah, who supported them during the Battle of the Alamo, gives us reason to stand firm against this formidable adversary. We, too, shall stand strong in our city. However, should we falter, the sacrifices made during the Battle of the Alamo will have been in vain—devoid of significance."

"Therefore, if they dare to breach the walls of our FOB city, they shall pay with the loss of their tanks. We Americans, and those who hail from the mainland of England, are resolved to fight on—be it on our own lands or theirs. We may wage war on beaches or on foot, but there is one thing we shall never do... We shall never surrender!" Wesley declares, concluding his speech. His words ignite a chorus of cheers from his men, accompanied by the continued resonating blasts of artillery fire that hold the combined forces at bay.

As the combined force of Ooarai and St. Gloriana maintained their siege on Commander Wesley's FOB base, exhaustion started to set in. Four days had passed since Wesley's artillery had held them at bay. The persistent rain of shells had turned the siege into a monotonous waiting game. The girls found themselves unable to make any productive moves due to the unrelenting bombardment, draining the battle of its joy and excitement.

Among them, Darjeeling appeared different. Over the past four days, her customary smile had faded. The continuous sound of fife and drums from the city, where Wesley's band repeatedly played "Old 1812" as a signal for their artillery to resume firing, had chipped away at her patience. With the battlefield now eerily quiet, Darjeeling began to feel the futility of this siege against Commander Wesley. Her troops shared the sentiment—a unanimous consensus that this waiting game was becoming dull.

Throughout the engagement, Darjeeling closely observed each of the American commanders. Three experienced leaders—Houston, Muller, and Graham—stood opposite her. Meanwhile, two new commanders, Elijah and the young English-American Wesley, commanded attention. Wesley's strategic prowess shone despite his age and rank below Houston's. He calculated numbers and percentages to his advantage, which left Darjeeling attempting to disrupt his patterns, to no avail.

Amidst the lull in the siege, boredom pervaded. The city's entertainment music could be heard, as Wesley's men found solace in the midst of the tedium.

"Would you like a cup of tea, Ms. Darjeeling?" Pekoe inquired.

Darjeeling let out a sigh, succumbing to the offer. She retreated to her Churchill tank, took a long sip, and drained the cup. After a moment, she returned the cup to be refilled.

"More, please," Darjeeling requested wearily.

Pekoe complied, refilling the cup. Assam noticed Darjeeling's weariness and voiced concern.