Because I expected the thread to start puzzling out their own preferred use doctrine, and then I could slap a coach on who wouldn't be smacking the players with a paper fan every ten minutes.
We got a pretty good coach then. Maneuver warfare is fun.
Did the thread end up doing the amount of discussion about doctrine that you were hoping for?
Edit:
If we didn't end up doing as much discussion as you were hoping for, in the future it may be helpful to say what we should be discussing somewhere near the voting options, in order to focus our attention on that and encourage us to discuss instead of just voting for whatever looks coolest. I for one would have been very interested in discussing whether maneuver, deception, or coordination are more important in a tank battle.
Listen that's for a brand new factory transmission you can find plenty of cheaper aftermarkets just as good like hoogie's or hugs not to mention that those are not as expensive as PTU's for Matilda's.
*Use of always does not imply nor guarantee always.
**Trust Guarantee is only offered under premium extended warranty and void in case of modification, installation, maintenance, or operation by those unlicensed by Quickscell Manufacturing.
Ya know I always expected us that we would be getting different vehicles instead of uniformity like we currently have the FT's in the sense that we're a poor school we're buying what we can.
But I do wonder what the limit is like do armored cars like the puma, BA-3,6,10,11, Diamler armored car, autoblindo or the panhard 178 count or they not allowed?
But I do wonder what the limit is like do armored cars like the puma, BA-3,6,10,11, Diamler armored car, autoblindo or the panhard 178 count or they not allowed?
The rules for safety are all crew must have a position they can maintain under full and complete armour cover. Once I finish the rocket rules, that will make something as skimpy as this legal.
Yes that's literally just two recoiless rifles on a prime mover. Japan makes some great shit sometimes.
The rules for safety are all crew must have a position they can maintain under full and complete armour cover. Once I finish the rocket rules, that will make something as skimpy as this legal.
Yes that's literally just two recoiless rifles on a prime mover. Japan makes some great shit sometimes.
It had been the better part of a week before your Coach came in on one of the school's bumbling LVTs. News had come in yesterday that the School Board had chosen Mlle. Cerdan, and you were eager to see what she arrived in. By now, everyone was reasonably used to the new uniforms, and you had them up and at the ready.
True to form, once the roll-off ramp went down, your new coach came out in her tank, sedate as could be. With a long hull and two-part rear turret, you had no idea what the heck this tank was supposed to be or do. Still, head out the commander's hatch was that long shock of spring-coil hair- and then, moments later the head and body attached to it were jumping out of the tank to land down in front of you.
"Team Captain Agenterre, if I'm not mistaken?" Cerdan said with a confident smirk. Was being a little weak in the knees in front of a new teacher normal? You couldn't tell, as you tilted your head down to look her in those almond eyes. You could only describe Angelique Cerdan as pert, now that she was in front of you, all five-foot-two-in-boots of her piercing stare. Small, maybe, or lithe, not much more than a whisp of a human that could contort herself into a machine of mayhem.
"That would be me, yes." You said, nodding.
"Excellent! Since today is a Friday, I'd like you and the entire team in your fatigues here at eight hundred tomorrow morning." Cerdan directed. "I've got two weeks to go before your first match, and it'll be a cold day in Hell before I waste that much time!"
Later, that was the exact moment you identified where everything started in on a rather quick jaunt vaguely downwards, right to hell.
Next morning started off at eight in the morning, all right- and when you didn't have the entire listed team in front of the circus tent you were calling a garage, well, Cerdan was a mite bit peeved.
"Marc!" she roared at her gunner and your fifty-five percent attendance (quite good honestly for a call time before 9am) in rage. "Tirez un sonique rond!"
Then the tank fired something- not the main gun though- and suddenly there was a bang to burst the heavens, like a sound you'd never heard before. Grabbing your ears, you just screamed a very little bit from the shock. Picking up a microphone, Cerdan grinned maniacally.
"MUSTER TIMES MEAN MUSTER ON THE FIELD! NEXT ONE GOES OFF IN YOUR DORM IF YOU'RE LATE!"
Two and a half minutes later you had the full team in front of you, as well as several death glares coming out from the dorm.
"Good morning, everyone!" Cerdan said, grinning maniacally. "In the future, I expect everyone to be here and ready to go well before muster! If we are late again, I will move up to full size blank rounds, instead of measly sonics from the mortar!"
You flinched, the team flinched, and the dorm flinched.
"Today, we are going to cover basics of operation! Drivers will be with Isabella, commanders will be with Marc! We will spend two hours on the basics of operation, then we will cycle you into your tanks. I will be overseeing."
Thus, your tank education begun. As a tank commander, you started off with Marc, and as pleasant as he was the lesson got old quickly. The SA 18 was a venerable gun, and equally importantly kind of a potato- Marc advised at least a few tanks in your group taking the other available gun, a Hotchkiss 25mm cannon with- in his words- adequate performance as long as it wasn't pressed at too long of a range. It wasn't long after, though, as you crammed yourself into a turret with one of said guns, that you reconsidered deeply going back to the stubby little SA 18.
It was there, crouched down with your ass in a seatbelt-webbing sling and your right arm pressed against the turret ring while your left was accomidating itself around the recoil guard and the turret crank, that you then learned what the next step was going to be after a water break.
"Now that we have familiarised ourselves with the vehicle, we are now going to practice the manual of arms!" Cerdan chuckled, before walking over to one of the tanks. "There are three basic things you must be able to do- evacuate the tank after a rollover, change from a riding position to a buttoned position, and conduct an evacuation after internal or external ignition."
Deliberately opening all the hatches, Cerdan started to demonstrate.
"Exiting the tank after rollover will come later today, as well as fire evacuation. However, it is standard practice to ride 'unbuttoned', as it improves situational awareness. This is where you, the crew, are comfortably situated around the tank in such a way to see and operate the vehicle to the best of your ability. Marc, can you get the PTRD?"
"oui."
As Marc returned with a staggeringly ugly gun that he set on the ground a few dozen feet from the tank, Cerdan grinned. "You will grow to hate that gun. Either way, the weapons on all your tanks have a system attached- a warning laser. When your tank is lazed, like so-" she said, as Marc swept the muzzle over the tank "-the safety alarm will sound. You have four second from the start of the alarm until you are fully under secured armor, or your tank is automatically disqualified. Either you will be safe, or you will be removed."
You were singularly unhappy with the drills. Still in the Hotchkiss-armed tank, you had to go from standing in the sling, gun between your legs, ass on the rim of the two-part turret hatch, to inside the tank in four seconds. There were degrees of not fun you'd experienced in your life. There were a lot of degrees of not fun you'd experienced in your life. Slamming your crotch right into the fucking breech of the gun? New worst one!
You were not afraid to say you were tearing up for a while after that. Cerdan didn't say anything at least, when she stuck a head in your open rear hatch and saw the clean spot your leg had scraped on the recoil guard on the way down. When the next buzzer sounded, though, your driver yelled 'fuck' and you just winced at the sound of head meeting armor plate.
"Tank got you too?" you asked morbidly.
"Right in the back of the fucking head!" your driver said, turning around to face you with half a black eye and a squint at the dark interior of the tank. "Where'd it get you?"
"Right in the cooch." You grumbled. "Fucking recoil guard."
Your driver winced in sympathy with you, before she shrugged. "There's a reason boys tend to have short careers at this, isn't there."
"Tell me about it." You sighed. "And I'm the bloody captain!"
"Well then I'm Sabah. You?"
"Celeste. Think we have to start up the drills again?"
"Yes." A third voice- Cerdan's- said from outside the tank. "Crew bonding can happen over lunch."
Four hours later with lunch and mass ice-pack assuagements, the team was in pretty low spirits. Naturally, this was when you all got to learn how to drive your tanks. Specifically, to drive them down to the range that had finally had the backstop finished. Piling in with Sabah in the front, you slowly started down the way in single-file, frantically trying to keep one ear glued to your headset and both hands on the turret as you practiced riding along unbuttoned. Not helping matters was Cerdan's off-key rendition of La fouile as we went along the two-mile drive, broadcast by radio at us every step of the way.
Once you were at the range, one of the waiting trucks threw you a crate of training ammo- paint rounds with a lead core- and you got to work… loading your tank. For ease of use, the 25mm rounds came packaged in stripper clips (which in no way interfaced with the gun, sadly) and you had to find places to stash the clips. Finally, after ten minutes of finagling, you just got out, had Sabah fold down her seat, and you put the whole damn crate in through the driver's area to sit under your sling. After that came your ear protection, and the shooting.
Safe to say, you were… not terrible? Your targets were cardboard silhouettes on steel plates, and once you got the hang of ducking down to sight with the scope and then coming back up so the recoil didn't whack you it got pretty fun. You were hitting the plates, which was honestly better than what you could say for the rest of the guys and girls here on average. The cardboard… you could probably re-use the cardboard. It was clean enough. Unfortunately.
"Alright, good news!" Cerdan said as the range time finished and everyone toodled back around to the roadhead to head home. "Once we get back to the school, you only need to do two laps of drop drills to make up for this abysmal shooting, then we can have dinner!"
Getting back inside long enough to start mucking around with the radio unit (mounted on a box outside the turret with a wire through the inside) you finally found the Command channel.
"Coach, what's a drop drill?"
"It's where you drive in a set pattern- in this case around the school- while someone with a marker tracks you and buzzes your tank every once and a while." Cerdan said, chuckling. "Either you learn to get in the tank fast, or you get knocked out and I have to come over to wand you back in."
"Oh no." you muttered.
"I heard that!" the Frenchwoman said, staring at you from the top of her tank. "Now get over to channel 5 so you can tell your tankers!"
"Yes ma'am." You said quickly, before you started mucking around with the radio set. Moments later, you had it set to broadcast. Now, how did you talk in the radio again?"
"Come in, all tanks?" you asked carefully as Sabah dodged a pothole.
"Eh? Ah! We have radios?!" one voice asked. "How do we use them?!"
"They're in voice-detect right now, but we should probably switch to push to talk later." A second voice said. "We should also probably say our names."
"Probably, yes, but who wants to?" a third voice grumbled. "Still, I guess I should mention my name. I'm Michelle."
"I'm Iris!" the first, bubbly voice said.
"I'm Fonmin, I guess." Another person added.
"Well, that makes four of us. Who's the fifth?" you asked.
"Me." A guy of all things said. "Solomon."
"Wait, we have guys on the team?!" Iris squeaked. "Really- oww!"
"Anyway!" you said, frantically trying to hide your own blush that one of the TC's was a guy, and how did you not notice earlier! "Once we get back to campus, we have to do two drill laps around the school, and then it's dinner. Everyone good?"
Four varying calls came back, and we trundled on home to top off our gas tanks before doing the laps. It was pretty simple, except for one minor problem- if you got 'out' since you failed to get into the tank and properly dog the hatches (they got you twice on this because the fall-on-close lever didn't) then you had to do another lap. Wherever the asshole with the PTRD was, he was both sneaky, and fast- you never got buzzed on the same spot on the course twice, even if two or three of the tanks would get buzzed at the same time.
Four laps around the school shouldn't have taken an hour, but here we were. Pulling into the yard, covered in road dirt and grease, the smell of cordite wafting around us like a fog… and there it was. Food, glorious food. Smirking in front of it, though, was that blasted coach. Oh, why had you ever suggested her?
"Showers, then food." Cerdan said, grinning. Fortunately, there was in fact a field shower, as well as a giant cart full of fresh coveralls. "Trust me, you'll never taste it through the tank in your mouths."
Rolling your eyes, you headed to the field shower. While nominally for washing, y'know, the tanks, it was more than large enough to fit the ten of you in here- waitaminute!
"Solomon!" you yelled, half-undressed.
"Yes?" your one solitary male TC called back, walking over. Suppressing a chuckle at how he was somehow shorter than you, you stared him level in the eye.
"Get a tarp or something to corner off part of the shower." You commanded, trying to focus on the imperial tone and not on the fact you were ordering someone around while dressed in a sports bra and a pair of jeans that were falling off in slow motion. "We are not having co-ed showers, or so help me God I'm going to run you over with my tank!"
Sighing dramatically, Solomon and the other one guy in the entire team went off to rig up their private area while you made sure your bench had a nice, clean coverall for after the shower. Then came the shower, complete with warm-ish water and having to use dishwashing soap to get the cordite smoke off. Still, coming out of there you were fairly refreshed, and once dressed were practically banging on the table to get the food.
"Calm down!" one of the not-yet-tankers said, laughing. "It's all good!"
"Ahem!" Cerdan yelled from the leading tables. "Dinner tonight is a halal daube, ratatouille, et brandade de morue, with sides of couscous, tabouli, and stuffed grape leaves! A taste of my home, to you! It's been a good practice, and with two more weeks of this I'd say we'll stand a chance in the coming match! Speaking of which, I've already got your first match lined up- an exhibition match versus the Everett High School club. Briefing on the match will be next Tuesday after classes, but for now: bon apatite!"
And then you ate! Oh, god, they were going to have to roll you to class tomorrow…
-/-/-/-/
VOTES
What skills do you want everyone to focus on before the match?
[] Gunnery (grants one random Offensive perk)
[] Driving (grants one random Drive perk)
[] Observation (grants one random Terrain perk)
[] Coordination (Grants one random Leadership perk)
What do you want to do for pre-match preparation?
[] RUMINT: hit up the online message boards and see what you can suss out.
[] OPINT: check out their online presence, maybe call some people over at their school. [] SIGINT/HUMINT: only available at tournaments.
[] More training, damnit! (50% maximum chance for tank crew to get a new Perk)
[X] Gunnery (grants one random Offensive perk)
[X] More training, damnit! (50% maximum chance for tank crew to get a new Perk)
Normally we'd want to take one of the intelligence gathering options, but the goal right now isn't to win the match.The goal right now is to get good enough to win a match sometime in the future. Frankly, we suck. And the best way to stop sucking is to train as much as we can, and only try to actually win once we don't suck quite so bad.
Pretty much any of the training options are good, since we suck at all of them. I'm going with gunnery because maneuver warfare still requires you to have enough of a force to concentrate, otherwise you can't punch holes in anything, let alone enemy lines. Once we get an idea of how maneuvering, leading, and terrain works in this game, then we can get some of those perks.
You could only describe Angelique Cerdan as pert, now that she was in front of you, all five-foot-two-in-boots of her piercing stare. Small, maybe, or lithe, not much more than a whisp of a human that could contort herself into a machine of mayhem.
"Marc!" she roared at her gunner and your fifty-five percent attendance (quite good honestly for a call time before 9am) in rage. "Tirez un sonique rond!"
You were singularly unhappy with the drills. Still in the Hotchkiss-armed tank, you had to go from standing in the sling, gun between your legs, ass on the rim of the two-part turret hatch, to inside the tank in four seconds. There were degrees of not fun you'd experienced in your life. There were a lot of degrees of not fun you'd experienced in your life. Slamming your crotch right into the fucking breech of the gun? New worst one!
I told you the Fr*nch was a mistake. I told you.
[X] Coordination (Grants one random Leadership perk)
[X] More training, damnit! (50% maximum chance for tank crew to get a new Perk)
