Chapter 47

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July 4th, 2013

At Sea

What were all the teams of the world fighting for? The grand honor of victory, of course, yet, there was something more. Something tangible. An object that you can actually hold in your hand triumphantly as it represented all the efforts that have brought you to the end. It weighed just shy over two pounds, and though ceremonial, easily capable of ending a life with a single stroke much like others of its kind in eras long gone. It was made of the finest silver, exquisitely polished that made it double not only as a mirror but also a blade. The hilt was crafted with steel, with the grip composed of a fine wood colored a dark brown. All of it sheathed in an elegantly constructed scabbard made with the same silver as of the blade, with hoops on it so that it can be attached to a person's clothing. Truly, there was no finer Pattern 1796 light cavalry sabre in the world.

"Wow, the trophy is a literal sword?" Ashley remarked with some amazement. She looking on a computer screen, reading about the internationals.

"A cavalry sabre, to be precise," Heather corrected. "And it is appropriate. Countries tend to call their tank units mechanized calvary."

"Guess so. Hey, do we still have the meeting today? It's the fourth of July."

"Oh, you gonna go outside and wave the flag while reciting national anthem perfectly?"

"No, I just want to sleep in."

There was a knock at the door. Walking over, Heather opened it and found Valarie fully dressed in her uniform.

"Yeah," Valarie said a bit apologetically. "We still have a meeting to go to. Sorry, it's not my call, it's Miss Buchanan's."

"We'll be right there, give us a few minutes." Heather said.

With a nod, Valarie departed and Heather closed the door.

"Well, there goes your hope of a day off."

Ashley groaned. "Ugh. Fine."

"Don't wanna go, heh, AWOL for today?"

"You know Heather, I don't think anyone on the team seen Miss Buchanan mad. And I don't want to be the first. Also...she's been real nice to me. Don't wanna squander that good faith we have between us."

"Alrighty. Let's get dressed then."

The two got in their uniforms, a task that they could do blindfolded now. Soon, they caught up with the rest of the team at the garage. There, everyone noticed the new addition parked within. People who walked by glanced at it for several moments, grinned, and continued walking to their own vehicles. Those that went up to it were amused by its small stature, especially the 25mm gun. Paige was among those who approached the light French tank. In her hand was one of the grenade launchers that Saint Apollonia had generously gifted the team.

"Can't believe that in my hand is a bigger gun."

Elsewhere, Valarie and Madison were together in conversation.

"With the purchase taken care of, now there's the issue of getting a crew. We just need two. Two people on the other side of the world. Damn"

"Hmm, that's quite the predicament." Madison remarked.

"Mister Redwood has already got two people for the tank. They are just waiting back in California. Man, they're gonna miss the first match."

"How so?"

"You told me that we wouldn't return back to America until August. Our first match is on July 24th."

"True," Madison said slowly. A smile appeared on her face as an idea has hit her. Valarie wasn't oblivious to this.

"What are you thinking about?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing. Just thinking about later today. There's gonna be a fireworks show, you know."

"Really? Where?"

"They'll be launched from the park, but since we go all out, you can really see them wherever you are on the ship. So, if I were you, I'd be camped out on your balcony come just before eight o'clock."

"I think I'll do that."

Elsewhere in the garage, Ray was with his crew. He had something in his hands that made them curious. A book of some sort. They knew he was a reader but this book he had in his possession had no words.

"You got a...sticker book?" Cesar inquired.

"Oh, yes I did. And I think you all will like the reason why."

He opened it and flipped through pages, looking and arriving at a section in particular. He turned and showed them the book. It was filled completely with flags.

"You know in World War II, how fighter pilots whenever they shot down an enemy pilot, had some sort of marking to represent the kill?"

They nodded.

"Well, I thought, why not we do something like that?"

"So, we put stickers on the tank?" Ryan asked.

"No, they're too small to be noticed. Instead, I was thinking that we put them on our helmets."

Exchanging glances, his crew contemplated his idea and grew from liking it to loving it. They took off their helmets and had them in their hands, ready to apply the stickers.

"Alright, rather than putting the U.S flag to represent all our victories in the nationals, it'd be cooler to put up the state flags of where the enemy schools came from. Also, I want the sticker placement to be neat. Don't place 'em at random."

With instructions dispensed, Ray passed around the stickers and they stuck them on their helmets. Soon, the flags of California, Arizona, Virginia, New York, and Massachusetts were applied. It gave their helmets a vibrant color that was desperately needed. They all looked at each other and grinned. Ray then tapped on the flag of Virginia.

"This one, above all, the most well deserved."

They all agreed gleefully. Ray then flipped a few more pages and showed them another set of flags.

"Let's make this the next one." he said, pointing to the Italian flag.

They were determined to have Italy on their helmet, to make it a reality. Done decorating, they resumed their routine tasks of maintaining their heavy Soviet machine. Every member of the team was at work, doing tasks they have done so many times before that they have become experts at their jobs. As everyone worked, one thought dominated all their minds; the future. It was uncertain, never set in stone. What the coming days, weeks, and months had in store for them, no one had the slightest idea. Only one thing was known.

They will face it and overcome.


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