Contest 5: Victory and Politics
After dividing up the regiments, you got back down into the daily grind of being a staff officer in charge of two divisional back-ends. Most of your life was nice and boring, with you showing up to the office at nine, filing paperwork, pushing pencils, taking lunch, and then getting down to the nitty-gritty details of life like "what do you mean you need more reinforcemnts" and "no, you're on a river, you're going to get wet" and "listen if they were barbarians then we wouldn't have lost most of the Volta now would we?"

It was another six months before things really started going right, but when they did it was amazing. Apparently someone had finally issued Schabler a pair of balls, because he de-clogged his regiments, and they were finally making good progress and smashing up penny-packet warbands without too much issue. The south, though, that was where the war was won.

The Zambezi Campaign had properly lasted about eleven months after Holn got ahold of his furthest extensions, and had his new units delivered. From there they went on a punishing advance into the Kongo highlands, dealing with the thinning environment with aplomb and none of the major issues that the North Force had hit. As they approached M'banza, the quality of enemy troops increased as well as quality, leading to the Battle of Zaire, the one instance your armor was actually used in the entire brush war. The enemy had, according to Luftwaffe intelligence operations, roughly ten regiments of troops in field fortifications along the high and railways into M'banza, anchoring their right flank on the river and their left on a section of impassable highland. They had employed a three-line defense, and photographic reconnaissance indicated that it appeared the Kongolese would attempt a decaying defense to lure Holn's force into a natural salient towards the right flank. With a superiority of manpower, local artillery, and fortification, Holn would have to be mad to press an assault.

Naturally, Holn pressed an assault. The "impassable" terrain hadn't been introduced to the Nyaslanders, who composed Holn's right and decided to fight rump a batallion so as to present the best odds of penetrating the highlands. To counteract this, 1/1 Elbing was put with them in the logic that the harder ground would be more kind to the tanks than the flatter ground close to the river. Giving the 2/4 Nyasalanders three days to permeate the range, Holn attacked on the 24th, and proceed to deftly prove why fixed positions were a double-edged sword. Entrenched Kongolese units didn't have the firepower to handle the fact that the center unit of Voltans considered volley rifle grenade fire to be an acute solution to hardpoints. Between enemy machine gun mismanagement and the fact that they hadn't adequate set fire zones, the front rank of the defense broke down rather quickly and fell back into the second. While the artillery dueled futilely, the 1/1 Elbing plowed into the enemy's front lines, and here's where the information got interesting to you.

For reference, the 1/1 Elbing was made up of one headquarters section attached to their first company, and four companies made up of four platoons each and one platoon of mobile gun carriers. Each platoon was one SkW-1, and four W-4 tanks, while the gun carriers were six KtW-2s and the headquarters section was in trucks. For the majority of events, the 3/4 Nyasalanders were intermixed, and that factoid might end up throwing your calculations a little.

In the battle, of the sixteen SkW-1 tanks deployed over the five hours they were engaged, all the tanks suffered temporary stoppages in the tracks and suspension department at one point or another, and eight of them suffering engine stoppages. All of the tanks continued operating unhindered by enemy action, with heavy machine guns and anti-tank rifles not able to penetrate their armor reliably nor the enemy artillery and hand grenades doing more than causing the majority of the suspension problems. In one notable instance, Tank #8 was struck in the foreword glacis by what was suspected to be a 7,5cm explosive shell and unaffected save for destroying two of the bow autocannons. Of the tanks deployed, none fully depleted their stores of main or secondary weapon ammunition, although a large part of this was tank commanders being unwilling to commit a 10,5cm shell to anything closer than fifty meters or not obviously a pillbox or machine-gun nest. In all regards, the contained firepower was considered grossly excessive until it the SkW-1 units were called together to form an impromptu counterbattery unit to handle an enemy heavy mortar carrier squadron that was hidden where the normal field guns couldn't reach.

The accompanying sixty four W-4 tanks had a better and worse track record- literally, in some cases. Of the sixty four tanks, nearly thirty were damaged or destroyed so as to be casualties, and after the battle an additional fifteen were declared to be constructive losses and to be used as parts hulks. The tanks with surviving crews, forty of the sixty four, reported that each tank had at least two track failures, with an average across the battalion being four failures and the most clocking in at sixteen track failures before being declared a constructive loss. Of the additional fifteen constructive losses, all were due to the engines being nearly destroyed or transmissions having shredded themselves due to battle damage. Of the destroyed tanks, the ones who had surviving crew were hit in the flank with a anti-tank rifle or heavy machine gun, normally positioned via armored car. Those that had the crews killed normally had been taken out by shell shrapnel, heavy explosive charges, or in several horrifying cases incendiary weapons. Of the surviving tanks including constructive losses, most had burned through their ammunition fairly quickly due to loose fire control and the desire to suppress positions where "significant" enemy presence was detected. More than a few particularly daring W-4 drivers had gone so far as to take ammunition from their downed fellows, or request it from their platoon leader SkW-1s. In sum, the W-4 crews were disappointed in their inability to maintain an enduring battle presence, as well as how fragile they were when they didn't have situational awareness of the battlefield.

After the 1/1 Elbing's part in the battle, things devolved into using the South Force's artillery to beat the third and final line of the enemy until ammunition starvation took hold, and the battle settled down to a markman-filled impasse as night fell. At this point, the since-forgotten 2/4 Nyasaland decided to spring their attack out of the highlands, making off with the majority of the enemy's truck park and two steam locomotives, dead-set on capturing M'banza. After loading everything onto the stolen locomotive train and then continuing along, they finally infiltrated the city three days later before bald-facedly marching on the Royal Palace in parade formation stating they had been sent ahead to negotiate the ceasefire after the total annihilation of the Kongolese field army.

The fact that saboteur teams had destroyed the telegraph lines along the way from the battlefield allowed this deception, and the King of the Kongo dutifully signed a ceasefire despite having the majority of his field army encamped within shooting distance of South Force and reinforcements on the way. Once radio contact with South Force was resumed (and Irromic-trained telegraphers were stationed in the right places as part of the "ceasefire") the South Force marched on M'banga and formalized the ceasefire in order to end the war.

At home, meanwhile, you had good news. You'd managed to get Anne-Marie pregnant again, and the resulting daughter was as cute as a button. You'd need to settle on a name, of course, but that should be fairly easy as long as the resulting political mess the victory had generate cleared up.



Votes

Daughter's Name?
[] Ilse Volta (Anne-Marie's suggestion)
[] Write-in

Politics (Vote by Plan, can choose multiple options per category)
[] Plan Name
-[] Schabler
--[] Condemn Schabler's insufficient aggression and inability to handle the local terrain and environs.
--[] Support Schabler's defense-minded strategies and low casualties over the length of the war.
-[] Holn
--[] Degrade Holn's reckless maneuvering and over-reliance of local militias with captured equipment to patch together his force after a disastrous initial retreat.
--[] Applaud Holn's decisive end to the war and ability to adapt to a changing war situation while being cut off from sufficient support.
-[] Locals
--[] Recommend Irromic regiments recruit local Askari to refill billets emptied over the war.
--[] Recommend Irromic regiments do not recruit local Askari to refill billets.
--[] Recommend formalizing the riverboat unit
--[] Recommend formalizing the Gerbersjaeger unit
--[] Recommend formalizing 4 Volta
-[] Armor
--[] Recommend a permanent armor detachment for the Colonies
--[] Recommend against permanent armor in the Colonies
 
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Battle of M'banga chart.
Tank Destroyed Disabled Constructive Losses Crew Casualties Average track issues Max Track Issues Min Track Issues Least Damage Highest Damage Most common complaint Fielded
SkW-1       4 1.35 3 1 Detracked Bow compartment lost due to 7.5cm direct hit Cannon useless in CQC 16
W-4 18 12 15 57 4.32 16 2 Detracked 7x 12.7mm in Crew Compartment, 4x in engine, 3x hand grenade, 1x incendiary Bad visibility, not enough ammo 64
 
Contest 5: Interim Posting
With the new Ilse Volta added to your family and Anne-Marie went back to house shopping while you finished up your war deployment, you got ready to get things done in true Irromic style. Mostly this involved tying up loose ends, shaking hands, and getting your Good Boy slips signed by all and sundry. Aside from the usual victory tours, parade inspections, and official photographs, the most important thing you did was sit in and on the Boards of Review.

A Board of Review was one of the older Irromic traditions, dating back to the Mittlebergen campaigns in the Unification Wars. The old way of doing it had a dozen officers around a campfire with wine and meat, discussing what caused victory and defeat, but now it was a way to fish out good ideas and shoot down bad ones. For most of them, you were just an onlooker, but you did get to participate in the Reviews of Holn, Schabler, and even one centered around yourself.

Holn's Review was a fairly short affair, with the board consisting of yourself, Field Marshal of Afrika Ronald duBoren, four of his colonels, and six assorted staff officers from the Empire proper. Things got started with a view of the initial retreat, and Holn lashing out against the fact North Force took three months to muster up, by which point he was penned in behind fieldworks on the south of the Zambezi. After that you got to pitch in, mentioning that the total lack of riverine back-end was what actually kept Holn in the dark- once you'd organized a proper riverine brigade, things proceeded much more cleanly. It wasn't hard to praise Holn's decision to end the war with the rather punishing advances he'd taken, since it would have taken Schabler a year to reach M'banga and possibly another year to siege it into surrender. In return, Holn was appreciative of your work getting him the tanks and infantry units, and was quite happy to have gotten native units. According to him, he'd never have been able to advance on M'banga as fast as he had without the light logistical burden of the lighter colonial regiments as composed to the heavier units from the metropole. The tanks he was less pleased with, since while they worked they were also a massive logistical burden. That said, they worked on tearing the middle line wide open on his right, and he was confident they would have rolled over the fieldworks in the third line too. Most of the line officers were happy with the field performance, even if the metropolitan officers spent most of it scratching their heads and shrugging.

Schabler's board had roughly the same composition, and went far worse. He'd dragged his feet getting North Force off the blocks, and every time he tried to defend himself with the concept of insufficient supply you ripped into him. He was a metropolitan officer through and through, but he'd screwed up his research and tried to apply norms formed from the campaigns in the Werserlands instead of the very well-researched normatives of a highlands campaign that the Dars-el-Salaam War College put out. Even the metropole officers couldn't defend him after the disaster at the highland prairies near Rourke's Creek. Fifteen thousand WIA and two thousand in change KIA, in large part by friendly fire, due to using normative tactics wholly unsuited for the terrain? There was no covering that up. Post-battle analysis provided by the War College Afrikans showed that it was probable the infiltrating forces had been eliminated or beaten off in the first six minutes- the remaining hour of fire was soundly on Schabler's own head. The colonial officers, meanwhile, ripped into him for not letting them deploy as they saw fit, citing dozens of instances where they couldn't maintain contact and had insufficient beaten zones, forage zones, security zones, and supply zones. By compressing the group as tightly as he had, Schabler had nearly choked his units to death, and it was the quiet threat of mutiny from the local support that was the only thing holding his supply lines open that got Schabler moving. You personally suspected it was also a threat of getting a grenade under his bunk that put Schabler off his ass, but that wasn't something you'd say where a Field Marshall was watching. The end result, a court-martial for Schabler, was neither unexpected nor something you'd possibly miss.

Your personal review wasn't a disaster, but it wasn't covered in roses. Giving anything to Schabler was seen as a mistake, and more importantly the impromptu Fourth Volta was something that was going to catch you flak since it was entirely indigenous and therefore a total wild card on terms of adoption. The recommendation against a permanent armor detachment was taken well, since it meshed with what Holn had seen and what the number-crunchers had spat out. The recommendation to recruit Askari for the formerly-Irromic Only units was certainly a head-scratcher, but when you explained they wouldn't need to be taken home and that the old 'citizenship by spilled blood' clause would cover them got everyone from the metropole interested. Manpower was still very thin on the ground at home, and the Bamberg's Fourth expected to need at least fifteen years to come back up to full strength. With Oberstleutnant Gremory, the leader of the unit in question, amicable, it was decided to allow a depot company to set up shop in the Volta region to feed into the Fourth Bamberg for the foreseeable future. The formalization of your other "specialist forces" projects was also green-lit, this one with much more ease. Permanent riverine and mountain troops would make the frontier much less permeable, and more importantly prevent a lot of the costly accidents on this campaign.

At the end of it, they pinned on the Oberstleutnant ribbons with aplomb, and it took a minute for you to realize you'd actually done it. You'd made staff officer. After collecting the best of your Afrikan staff and several local Askari as a semi-private bodyguard and housekeeping staff (an old tradition of staff officers who'd proven themselves in Afrika) you promptly got in a steamer, and went home. Anne-Marie was delighted to see you, and so was the rest of your family when you saw them next. Dad was proud, Mother was estatic, and your good-for-nothing brother had finally bit the bullet and settled down in the family castle so you could stay in Luneburg as a teacher at the War College. Life was good.



VOTE

During the Interim, what do you teach at the War College? Choose one from each column; this will influence who you can pick for future specialists for contests.

100s level (For scrubby young lieutenants)
[] Basic Logistics (112)
[] Small Unit Tactics (104)
[] Integrated Operations (143)

200s level (For people who volunteered)
[] Armor in Warfare (264)
[] History of Military Mathematics (203)
[] Conflict in Afrika (257)

300s level (For up-and-coming staff officers)
[] Operational Arts (301)
[] Integration of Technology (326)
[] Specialist Unit Command (328)
 
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Contest 6: Team Formation
Your name is Reservat Oberstlieutenant Otto von Rabe, and honestly today's been one of those terribly confusing days. After five years of teaching intermixed with familiarization deployments, you were fairly sure that you'd finally settled down into that mythical career posting, where you could casually pick up your pay every month, go home and enjoy a beer with your wife, and watch your daughter rule over the house with a velvet mitten as she tried so hard to be the little kaiserine she wanted to be.

The fact she actually knew the Kronprinzessin only served to inspire her sometimes, and Ilse Volta certainly did good things with that. You and Anne-Marie had met the Kaiser on a few occasions, now, and were reasonably familiar with enough of the staff and royal grounds so as not to be a complete dunce when you showed up at court. While your opinion of the second son of the Empire, Leopold, was a little lower than public opinion, at least he tried. Victoria Emilia would be a better choice for the crown, as far as you were concerned, and anyone arguing against the pragmatic succession could go suck on a rosebush. Better than Wilhelm, at least, who was and always would be a brat. The one time he'd tried to pull rank on your boys in school, they'd been (unsuccessfully) accused of going in with a dozen sons of the Askari at night and tying him up in a bedsheet and leaving him out on the lawn of the girl's dormitory covered in rose petals and candles.

The fact you found Oskar and Klaus' planning documents in the same loose floorboard where they used to hide sweets only made it more obvious their original plan only involved leaving his dirty laundry on the lawn, meaning Little Billy was a target of opportunity. Bless their dervish souls, but they really needed to stick to the plan.

You'd been reactivated now, though, and it was time to dust off your lapels. The Cavalry Branch of the army had snapped three weeks ago at the General Staff and flatly declared they could not return to the pre-war strength of twenty cavalry regiments with the current levels of funding and willingness to make capital investment. During the war, expenditure of horses for the twenty cavalry regiments was roughly triple that of the men, and as such the country's horse husbandry program took a steep nosedive as bloodstock was pressed into service and the money keeping the (unprofitable) horse farms open shifted over to the Armor Branch to defray the massive costs of the iron steeds. Now, with lack of breeding capabilities, the Cavalry Branch was barely able to keep four regiments activated and one in reserve, with the remaining twenty unable to continue due to lack of mounts. As such, the entire branch had decided they wanted a mechanical horse replacement- and dragged you into the limelight, since you were the single most qualified staff officer on the topic of armor.

What they wanted, though, was something you weren't really sure on how to give them. According to the Cavalry Branch leader, Generalleutnant Faulkenburg, you needed to deliver up to three vehicles to meet the following specifications:

  1. Carry a 20mm autocannon and at least 1000 rounds of ammunition. (This was mostly optional; according to Faulkenburg. It was already planned to have each new regimental model include a company or so of W-5 tanks to meet this need)
  2. Carry supplies for independent operation for up to five days or 250km of standard operation, whichever is lesser
  3. Be able to operate with minimal maintenance for up to five days.
  4. Be able to carry a Leichtmachinegewehr 71 on pintle or turret mount
  5. Be able to carry a sled with a Mg.52 and all needed devices
  6. Hold up to two troops plus operator
  7. Traverse all common Irromic terrains (Dirt road, field, mud field, hills, valleys, mountain tongues)
  8. Tow a trailer carrying at least 150kg of supplies
  9. Carry eight men with two or more operating crew OR
  10. Carry two men with one operating crew
  11. Be able to be repaired to the point of recovery by a standardized kit to be issued with each vehicle
  12. Carry a radio reciever

You had your work cut out for you. Time to develop a Board.


Choose five

[] Hauptmann Erich Folgers: A young and somewhat distinguished armor company commander, Erich was involved in the retaking of Marienburg and the Battle of Oron, as well as leading a command tank in the Battle of the Kongo.
[] Abbot Marchevion: A Bohemian national who emigrated after a scandal in the Werser crowns forced him from home, this man is rumored to be an intelligence expert and Lithuanian sympathizer.
[] Oberstlieutenant Conrad Fenrus: The cavalry commander with the 1st "Schlangenesser" regiment, this officer is incredibly familiar what exists of breakthrough tactics in this day and age on the open plains of the West Irromedes, as well as the state of the cavalry branch.
[] Edmund Volkstuppe: A young reserve kaptain who's spent most of his career in the artillery, Volkstruppe has an unnering knowledge about light artillery and what advancements have been going on in your old backyard.
[] Terier Meklan: An engineer from Skoda's small tractor production operation, which traces back to the armor production facility. He's looking for a name for himself.
[] Abbot Potsdaman: A young representative from the Ghermain Brothers Automotive with revolutionary new plans for a flexible drive system.
[] Renne Jung: A junior member of Commorate Casting Corporation sent to help tailor whatever they build to your requests.
[] Movo Leib: A Jewish captain of the armored car cavalry sent by the Wersers in part of a bid to get you to adopt the Straßenpanzerwagen S861
 
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Contest 6: RFQ
Once you got your Board together and delegated your classes off to a hoard of TAs, you got to work on trying to corral everyone. As usual, things shook out on a pretty interservice bassis, one side wanting trucks and the other side wanting tracks.

On the trucks side of the board, there were Potsdamn, Melkan, and Jung. On the tracks side of the board, there were Folgers and Fenrus.

Potsdamn was the first, and most vocal speaker. He was interested in a truck design because he knew his entry could have multiple driving axles, would be easier to maintain, and be faster. In addition, he claimed to be able to deliver a rifleproof front end, mechanically simple engine, and roof turret capable of handling the 20mm gun with no issue, along with room for ten men or six and a motorcyle. It would unload via the back, and could have a removable bed cover or sidewalls.

Melkan was actually neutral on the topic of trucks or tracks, but came down with trucks to simplify his production. His design, more a wheeled people carrier, had an odd rear-mounted tow engine and a medium box compartment behind an armored front ramp. Visibility would be sketchy, but the system would theoretically provide maximum protection to the men while allowing a codriver to fire a light machine gun and having a dedicated radio receiver and transmitter.

Jung wanted a truck-track-hybrid-thing, meanwhile, and was frustrated enough with Fenrus hitting on her that she picked the Trucks side of the table to get some physical space between him and her. Her tentative design was a heavily armored, squared off front end with a drivers compartment right over the engine, with a turret for whatever you wanted to put in on top and capacity in the back for she claimed eight troopers and their kit. Propulsion would be theoretically the best of both worlds, using a rear tracks set while letting a front set of wheels steer the contraption unless a tight turn was needed, at which point differential breaking could be used.
Meanwhile, in Trackland, there was a completely different mindset going on.

Folgers, once he got the picture that these things probably weren't going to be blitzing in like his tanks, wanted something very conservative with a front mounted engine in a compartment proof from rifles from the side and top with an enhanced proofing against common anti-tank rifle rounds from the bow. The back should be open and carry twelve, if not half a platoon, and the light machine gun should have a top pintle mount on a ring so as to allow ease of fire at things to the left and right of the vehicle, or if a heavy machine gun was to be used a full turret taken directly off a W-5.

Fenrus, meanwhile, wanted something totally different- some madcap vehicle the size of a motorcycle with a radial engine in a rifle-proof compartment, totally open top, and all explicitly designed to meet the two man team mission. In Fenrus' mind, this was a drop-in replacement for a horse, with a low (sub two ton) curb weight, a crude all-band radio receiver, and designed explicitly so that to maintain the maximum distribution of troops. Having had five horses shot out from under him in charges, he was automatically dismissive of the concept of clumping up in one vehicle or in general, and wanted to ensure that a cavalry company had the maximum available vehicles so that dismounted soldiers could join another vehicle as a gunner-slash-radioman as needed.


Alright guys, time to pound out an RFQ. You all know the drill- plan vote, I'll clarify things when I can.
 
Omake: Oh, What a Wonderful War
Your name is Paul Mpenzi, and you have always been something of a troublemaker. Whether it was driving your mother sick with worry by stealing bananas from the plantation near your village, to getting well-acquainted with the headmaster's cane in school for a series of truly spectacular pranks, you are proud for having the knack of finding or creating adventure (and by 'adventure' you mean 'havoc') wherever you go.

It was this knack of yours more than anything that drove you to join up, though you made all kinds of reassuring noises at the earnest-looking white recruiter that yes, of course you were a good and patriotic Irromic citizen, and had you mentioned how glad you were that the Kaiser had finally beaten those foreign bastards, whoever they were? Your sudden desire for the thrills of army life was also motivated by the fact that your mother, god bless her, had finally passed on, and had spent so much of her life trying to keep you in check that she had never found the time to remarry. Your father had died in a skirmish on the Kongo Border before you even knew him, and your reputation for fooling around with young women all over the region barred you from marrying any respectable girl within a hundred miles. So, young, broke, unmarried and more than a little curious, you had chosen to join the Askari.

The soldiering life turned out to be good fun, to your surprise: though parade drill and maintenance and the various amounts of 'chicken shit' that soldiers had to deal with was boring, you proved to be a natural at hand-to-hand fighting and set a new company record at marksmanship, and the brief explosives course was the most fun you'd had in years. You'd been dreading what your officers would be like: you'd grown up stealing fruit from an IEA plantation, after all, and had heard all kinds of stories about how Westerners thought people like you to be lower than dirt. Luckily, Lieutenant Schafer had been, for the most part, fair and levelheaded; the only exception had been when your attempts to use your new explosives training to put on a "firework show" for the Kaiser's birthday had resulted in a fairly large crater where your outpost's parade ground used to be and a few nearby livestock dropping dead from shock.

To your relief, you had been placed on field kitchen duty "pretty much forever" as Sergeant Chausiku had put it, and there your punishment had ended. New regulations for requisitioning explosives had been rolled out for units across the colonies, and it quickly became a part of regimental lore that you had had a hand in the decision. Even Schafer, defeated, had joined in the custom of raising a glass of whatever was strongest and giving the Kaiser fondest birthday wishes every year. As it turned out, the kitchens proved a good place for you, once you'd actually gotten cooking sorted out; the kitchen was a hub for all kinds of dealmaking, and you soon formed a warm relationship with the quartermaster by letting the ingredients for his favorite dishes routinely fall off the back of a truck.

That was probably what saved you when the war broke out. You were playing cards with your friends Aoko and Fredrick-and beating them handily too, you might add- when the sound of gunfire sent you dashing into the brush with rifles at the ready. You found the team currently watching the border in the midst of a blazing firefight with a party of Kongolese soldiers attempting to cross the river. You did as you had been taught, staying carefully in cover and supporting the machine-gun, keeping the enemy's head's down with a fusilade of rifle-fire whenever the gunner had to pause to change belts. The enemy kept pressing onward regardless, until you broke out the rifle grenades, including an extra crate which the quartermaster had generously and discretely provided you. A few high explosive volleys served to check their advance, but as your seemingly-bottomless reserves of explosives started to run low the enemy remained fixed tenaciously in place, cowed but obviously waiting for when your ammunition was all used up.

Rifle fire proved ineffective at actually scoring kills when the enemy was hunkered down in cover, and when you tried to throw grenades the enemy simply hurled them back. Ultimately you realized this wasn't working, and figured that you'd been given bayonets for a reason, so you fixed them, ordered the machine gun team to keep their heads down with a long burst, and charged the second the gun had stopped firing. You got in among them quickly; Aoko getting his head smashed in with a rifle-butt provided all the impetus you needed to fight with as much ferocity as you could muster. It had all been going great until the armored car had showed up. You gamely attempted to put it down with the last of the rifle grenades, but though you took off a wheel and, you think, killed the driver, in the end you had no choice but to retreat.

Lieutenant Schafer's reaction ran the gamut from stunned (apparently the Kongolese were rolling in with heavy armor all along the border, and no one quite knew where they'd got it from) proud, (he'd called you the finest Askari unit the Irromic Empire had ever fielded, which you think would have made Aoko happy to hear, genuine patriot that he was) shocked ("You did what when you ran low on ammo?") and back to proud ("Fuck it, you fought well boys, even if you're all crazy.")

From then on it had been all-out war for months, fighting under General Holn all along the Southern front. It was terrifying, it was thrilling, it was bold, it was everything you'd dreamed of when you joined the army. Fast, mobile warfare of the kind your people had been fighting since the Crushing had driven them here, generations before anyone had even thought of a machine gun. Your unit found, to their delight, that Nyasalanders were getting a reputation for being "bold, verging on suicidal", as you heard Holn had put it in conversation with a superior. You and your comrades loved it, but you didn't quite see what he was talking about; sitting back and waiting to get slaughtered, that seemed suicidal. Really, when you thought about it like that, a silent bayonet charge under the cover of darkness was just about the safest thing in the world for an Askari to be doing, and your mother didn't raise a coward, as much as she might have wished it to be so.

Schafer hadn't been quite as enthusiastic, though he was still very aggressive, which you appreciated. He made a lot of speeches about rushes and making use of fire support and "For God's sake at least bring up a mortar or something", but after the first few times he let it go and just ran in with you. His sidearm did fearful work in close quarters which had saved you on more than one occasion, so you did your best to stick with him and stab anyone who looked like they might get past it. By the time he made his fifth hand-to-hand kill, everyone agreed that he was the finest officer in the whole company, and that it was a damned good thing they'd finally got him broken in to how to fight sensibly.

What hadn't been fun was learning about what the Kongolese had done to your village. The fighting had hit it hard, and you heard from an old friend that it was unlikely that it would ever be re-settled; the fields had been laid to waste, the livestock killed, the houses burnt to the ground, and although he didn't tell you what had happened to any locals who couldn't get away you got the picture. You had never held much attachment to it since your mother had died; all your friends were in the Askari now, and you hadn't been home in years, but it was a place of many fond childhood memories, and it stung to know that you could never return. To cope, you put your all into fighting; you came through charge after charge after charge with distinction, and took a new and vicious glee in terrifying the Kongolese with night raids on their forward positions which vanished as soon as they brought fire support to bear.

Then, thank God, you began to advance; now you were swimming in supplies, and once again leveraging your friendly relationship with the quartermaster to redistribute them as best you could. The highlands proved to be trickier terrain to fight on, no heavy brush to cover your advances, but with a bit of practice the uneven terrain worked just as well for camouflaging movements and granting you the element of surprise. Eventually, as you approached M'banza you came upon a series of enemy defenses, just as you had been taught about when you first joined the Askari. Your unit had been assigned to attack a difficult section of the highlands at Holn's personal request, according to Lieutenant Schafer; he looked put out when your friends and you took one look at the area and started to laugh. It was tricky, sure, you'd have to leave a lot of the heavy ordinance behind, but it was doable.

The fighting was bitter, nonetheless. Working alongside tanks was a hazard in itself; they drew fire like nothing else, and the smaller ones tended to throw tracks, explode, or break down in other exciting ways. The gigantic vehicles trundled along obliviously, but when one of them fired its guns the noise alone seemed to scramble your brain a little. From there there was a day of brutal trench fighting; you went through a dizzying maze, and although others seemed to get hit by bullets or sharpened spades or shrapnel, you managed to get through unscathed. You even topped your previous shooting record when you defended a wounded sergeant Chausiku by killing five men in five seconds with a series of perfect shots. A sixth rushed you when you stopped to reload, but Chausiku managed to trip him up long enough for Schafer to round the corner and put three bullets into him.

And then, all at once, that was it. Schafer was shouting to "Come back boys, that's enough, we'll get overextended!" and so you and your comrades had rallied and taken stock. The highlands were yours; down below you could see the enemy's third line waiting, all around you the sounds of battle continued. You spread out and secured the trench, like the professionals you were; even after such brutal and exhausting combat, you knew that leaving yourselves open just meant you'd be tossed back and have to do it all again tomorrow. As the day wound on, you noticed that the sound of the big guns started to peter out, replaced by the crackle of rifle fire. You mentioned as much to Schafer.

"They're getting low on ammunition." he said. "It'll be nothing but sniper fire for tonight, I shouldn't wonder. They'll have brought up more shells by morning." At this every man in earshot turned to fix him with a look, and after a moment's pause he nodded. "You have the right of it boys." He said. "Go get your bayonets." At sunset you wished a fond farewell to Chausiku, now missing an eye, and slipped him a bit of money so that he could get himself a proper glass one. Then you stood on the parapet with the others and waited, and as night fell you crawled out of the earthworks and crept towards the next and final line.

The enemy never saw it coming: you were on them so fast that the sentries didn't even have time to cry out before you cut their throats, and when someone finally called out the Kongolese were slow to rise, exhausted from the day's fighting. You were on them with a roar, hacking and slashing with your bayonet, picking off an enemy whenever the chance presented itself, and from there you pressed inexorably onward until at last you broke through to the other side.

The other side turned out to be some kind of motor pool: neat rows of trucks lined up and waiting to transport men and ammunition wherever they might need to go. They were shiny and new too, far better kept than the broken-down clunkers you'd seen behind your own lines. Still, your curiosity propelled you onwards, and after another few minutes of going down the line of trucks and taking anything interesting-looking, you found it: a great metal monster, with the lights of M'banga glittering in the distance. After a moment to appreciate her beauty, you ran back to Schafer. You had a brilliant idea; perhaps the greatest trick you would ever play. You could see it all unfolding in your head as you found him and saluted.

"Sir," you asked, "Do you know how to get a train started?"

And so it was that the Nyasaland 2nd Regiment, 4th Battalion gleefully loaded themselves up into trucks, loaded the trucks onto the train and headed straight for M'banga. You were confused at first when orders came down from the company commander, at Schafer's suggestion, that the men polish their buttons and shine their boots. Then you dismounted at the station, formed up to march in parade fashion, and it struck you. It was all you and your comrades could do not to laugh aloud as you marched to the steps of the palace in the early morning light and listened to your commander, with casual ease, declare that they were here to negotiate their surrender. From there it was a few very nervous hours of frantically trying to establish radio contact while pretending everything was normal, and then all of a sudden the army was here and the war was over.

For finding the train and giving Schafer the idea to get it running, combined with various other acts of valor in the Battle of Zaire and the preceding months, you were given a large cash bonus (apparently they weren't entirely clear on whether or not they were allowed to give medals to Askari) and offered either an immediate honorable discharge or a posting of your choice.

Discharge you turned down straight away: all your friends had been in the army, and now they were going back to their home villages, but you'd never be able to do the same. You thought about asking to be posted to Dars-El-Salaam, or even put in charge of a border outpost somewhere in case the Kongolese got up to their old tricks, but your old curious trickster's urge kept nagging at you. You knew, deep down, that for whatever reason you were finished in Africa. But how to get a posting somewhere else?

Then it hit you. It was customary to give the local commander an honor guard of Askari, and what's more that same commander was already bringing a retired Schafer home with him. So, as nicely as you could, you asked to be assigned to guard the nice Oberstleutnant, thank you very much.

And so you find yourself on the deck of a ship for the first time, travelling home to guard the family of a man you've never met in a place you've never seen before. You can hear adventure calling you from here. Or maybe that's your mother, sighing with exasperation as she watches her son push her sanity to its limits one last time. A pair of white women pass you on deck, all done up in their Western dresses, staring at you as they go by. You smile and tip your uniform cap, leaving both of them giggling and red in the face.
You turn to walk the deck, letting a bit of swagger into your practiced military gait.

Let them stare. You're a war hero, god damnit.

Hope this is reasonably accurate. How'd I do?
 
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Contest 6: Entrants
Looking over the submissions, it seemed that most of the contestants had listened to you for once.

And then there was Thryssen, but for once they had actually come up with something new. At ten and a half meters long, nearly three and a half meters wide, and armed with a 8cm breechloading mortar (and true to requirement, a pintle Lmg. 71) the AV-10(T) was a terribly large head scratcher. Built around a forward mounted radial engine and aft mount turret, it's claim to fame was a large rear hatch designed to evacuate the entirety of the tank in case of emergency and to conduct resupply through. And, despite claims it could seat six internally, it was a tank. You were not calling anything with a forty-five degree slanted chunk of armor sixty five millimeters thick anything but a tank. The fact it was also possessed of a large, barn-like turret and the ability to rearrange the insides only made it worse.

Ghermain Brothers Automotive had come into the contest, meanwhile, with a slightly up-armored truck. After they poached Ledwinka from Wanderer, the four-in-the-back drive system had gotten them into the car design business, and this was a standard GBA 92 with some Thryssen-bought plates on the cab and engine to rifle-proof it. With seventy horespower under the hood, it could haul about eighteen hundred kilos of cargo and whatever someone tried to hang off the back end. The only issues there would be with the design were changing out a hitch and the fact there were no weapon mountings whatsoever.

Commorate Casting Corporation's own proposed and prototyped vehicle was a bit of a non-sequitor, to be honest. Pulling most of the drivetrain off a GBA 92, they then proceed to mount the engine under an armored cab section and put a small ring and pintle mount on top for someone to stand. Propulsion was directly applied by unbraked tracks, with two driving wheels per side. The front was protected by eight to twelve millimeter armor plate, while the back had six millimeter plate as the protection. Capacity inside was a bit cramped, but it could carry about a thousand and two hundred kilograms of cargo and had no obvious issues towing.

Out of absolutely nowhere, meanwhile, was Fenrus and an absolutely crackpot design he'd cooked up and independently prototyped in a month. With an absurdly short meter-and-a-half track base powered by an Olympia car engine, he'd built a small, highly mobile two man and driver… thing. You didn't know what to call an open-top set of tracks with a motorcycle front wheel of all things, and he didn't care. It was completely unarmored, had a single pintle mount, and had an ungodly amount of suspension for the double-wheel tracks so that it could haul a thousand kilograms in the 'fighting compartment' and had a tongue weight on the hitch of yes. It also could blaze away down a dirt road as fast as a motorcycle, and was also apparently devilishly easy to maintenance with it's no-frills engine.

Skoda's design, somehow, stole the 'makes no sense' award from Thryssen. With a rear radial engine and a front mounted fighting compartment, it seemed normal until one looked down the fact the main egress ramp was also the front glacis, and needed to be hauled back into place with a power winch. It had great bed capacity, though, and an all-around ten millimeters of armor protection as well as towing capability, a full size radio receiver and transmitter, and a co-driver operated Lmg. 71.

Armid's Carriages also entered their hat in the ring, with a strange little staff car modification. By pulling one of their Tortoises an additional eight centimeters off the ground and slapping some artfully bent Skoda plates over the bow, they got the basics down before cutting the back off entirely and extending the chassis ten centimeters to make room for two center-isle facing benches. It could nominally mount a Lmg. 71 over the windshield for a standing co-driver to handle, and theoretically could seat six with a driver and codriver to manage the radio and gun.

The last entrant to the contest was MANN CO, a Wanderer subsidiary who built most of the engines and assembled engine-transmission pairs. Here they were bringing this to bear with a new flat-six engine in front of a six speed and reverse transmission, powering a drive train of two treads while the front steering was done by axles and tires. Thanks to an odd interleaved system of wheels letting the designers cram more axles in, it had an amazingly low ground pressure while still keeping high traction, and could tow just about anything short of a house behind it. With an advertised two hundred liters of tankage and the ability to mount a pintle Mg.52, it could hold twenty soldiers or whatever a team could hoist into the high bed. Most of it was under either the front fourteen millimeter armor sheets, or the aft six millimeter sheets. All in all, it looked good on paper.


Votes

[] Write in PLAN NAME
-[] Write in what to test
-[] Write in how to test

(Stock testing period is three rounds this time, so I don't end up making a giant update I have trouble referencing later.)
 
Contest 6: Testing 1
After sending out the no-thank-you letters to Thryssen and Krupp, and then the 'no we mean it fuck off' letter to Thryseen, you got to work with the Ulm Testing Ground about doing your cavalry vehicle testing. You managed to book two weeks, and deliveries of the prototype vehicles were done pretty easily. For operating crew, Folgers managed to round up his company (who were currently in stand-down since his regiment needed yet more tanks) and get everyone over there without too many problems. The Tortoise modification couldn't be expanded to seat eight (which was your basic grouping of cavalrymen until further notice) so if you decided to do any testing with the dismounts it was going to be at a notable disadvantage.

First up was the winding track around the base that you tested tanks on all those years ago. Fifteen kilometer circuit race over the main road, an entrenching field, the artillery range, a scree slope, and a bombed-out maintenance road the Luftwaffe used as a moving target bomb range when they were testing out dive bombers. Apparently the old maintenance road had been lengthened to avoid some still-undetonated two hundred kilo bombs from the now-aborted Strategic Range Bombing Program, so that was that.

After about an hour of screwing around in the parking lots as the crew got used to their vehicles and dozens of humorus screwups (including one where the crew of the MANN CO submission stole an old sheet steel target and put the Fenrus submission in their cargo compartment so they could have tracks in their tracks) the race was off.

Surprisingly, the half-motorcycle half-track came in first, with a time including two stoppages of twenty three minutes. Stoppage one was a jam in the carburetor getting rattled closed in the artillery field traversing a crater, while stoppage two was a track snap after the scree slope. In all, the driver and passengers said that while it wasn't a comfortable ride, it kept it's speed well and the transmission shifted cleanly unless you were going into reverse. The steering was a bit kick-y if you tripped the differential breaks by accident, but other than that it worked extremely well.

The Tortise Mod 1 came in second at a time of thirty one minutes with five stoppages. Four of these were tire failures, in one case with the wheel sheering it's lugs and rolling away angrily, while the last issue was getting stuck in a rather large crater and requiring the passengers to get out and bodily lift the blasted thing out. The driver's comments were that the wheel was unfamiliar and didn't have enough turning authority, requiring him to spin it like a roulette wheel while constantly messing with the clutch and five speed gearbox. In the test, they also broke the consumer-grade dashboard and two of the dials in the instrument cluster, as well as one of the bench seats and severely damaged the suspension.

The MANN CO halftrack came in last at forty minutes with one malfunction where the clutch cut out in a gear shift, requiring a vehicle restart and one of the crew to climb underneath the vehicle with a wrench and length of scavenged pipe to reset the system while the engine was off. The driver's commentary was that the clutch stuck terribly, the four-speed transmission had a tendency to jam on the third gear, the driver's seat suspension gave out, the right wing mirror fell off on the scree slope, the steering had the mechanical advantage of pushing wet rope, and the machine made a terrible ratcheting noise when using the reverse gear. In addition, the crew in the open-back compartment complained of the lack of seating or handholds, getting tossed around and bruised by their borrowed infantry kit.

The GBA-92, as up-armored by the company themselves, came in at twenty nine minutes and with one major malfunction, a damaged front right tire. The driver explained it was fairly pleasent to drive, however it had the distinct disadvantage of being mostly a civil-grade vehicle on the interior- their holsters and assorted and sundry kit had beaten the wooden interior elements to bits, and the cloth seats were badly damaged by the now-traditional tanker's dirks holstered across the small of the back in case a crew member needed a long enough prybar to open a stuck hatch. The passengers had a decent enough ride, and had no major complaints except an oppressive atmosphere.

The CCC modified GBA-92 came in at thirty five minutes, with seven major malfunctions. The first three were crash-induced tire and axle damage, as the driver's seat was somewhat foreward of the front axle, leading to severe disorientation of the drivers and more than a few crater exploring incidents. Four and five were both track failures, as the newer, wider tracks were a tad big for their road wheels and had a tendency not to track true on the suspension in a hard turn, while the last was a complete failure of the number two left side drive axle, which was easily handled by the passengers. Said passengers found their compartment highly cramped, but considered it well protected considering how it didn't suffer any internal damage when a tree ramming and limb dropping on top didn't majorly damage it.

Repeating the course with trailers resulted in the problem that all the offroad trailers became irreparably damaged by the scree slope, and testing could not be finished. You also had to buy apology brandy for the Ulm Testing Grounds commandant because you broke five of his supply trailers.

Endurance trials were done on the dirt roads and farms around Ulm, with new trailers and full loads. In theory, they were supposed to cross two hundred and fifty kilometers.
Practically, everyone had issues with that.

The Tortoise Mod 1, while completing the course of travel, got stuck in the spring mud several times and had severe traction control issues on hills and deep mud areas, in one cases requiring a tow out via a passing farmer. In addition, it also developed an oil pan leak at some point, and the back right suspension strut gave out completely for no foreable reason. On returning, it was held together with panzergaffe and bailing wire, and promptly collapsed near-dead on the parking lot. After chasing away the company chaplain who attempted to declare it dead on arrival, the driver and co-driver recounted their experiences and explained that power assists in the transmission gave out halfway through, and the gearbox had severe issues with mud gunking up the third to second shift pattern.

Fenrus' contraption didn't complete the whole course of travel on it's internal tanks due to fuel exhaustion by a thin margin, but it did finish thanks to external supplies carried in a secondary container mounted on the back. It got itself stuck on nine separate occasions, most of which were solved with the unditching logs carried by the two-axle cargo trailer for this express purpose. After dealing with the mud, the main issue was the fact the drive train had the habit of trying to disengage the clutch when the power wheels were under too much strain as a safety feature. It also drank oil in rough, high-rpm handling needed to extract it, but this wasn't a bad thing since it kept running. The driver's opinion was that it needed a oil level gauge readable during operation, a clutch disconnect saftey override to get emergency torque, and track extenders for average driving. The passengers, meanwhile, wanted something more cushioning than bare steel in the back, and would happily take wood paneling or something.

The MANN CO halftrack completed the course on its own internal fuel and four times the expected oil consumption and after two clodged fixes to the radiator, which had the tendency to not cool enough during high-rpm engine operation due to poor airflow under the armored hood. It handled the mud and poor terrain well enough, but had mechanical difficulty in the clutch and transmission jamming more than a Werser machine pistol with half-loaded ammo, the mirrors fell off again, and the crew riding in the back were sufficiently injured that they were given medical leave for two days and light duty for the rest of the week.

The GBA 92 had no problem completing the course as written, and their largest notable problem was a ten minute stop when mud clogged the under-hood ventilation scheme and the truck needed ten minutes or so to cool off.

The CCC-modified GBA-92 halftrack had several severe issues with the mud, and did not complete the course without large amounts of assistance to escape entrapment at one point. It could not confidently pass through deep spring mud, and on several instances lost tracks due to clogging. The previously damaged and repaired axle gave out again, as well as another driving axle on the other side. Both front tires failed at points, and the engine overheated numerous times and at several points the clutch failed to allow a gear change. The driver was physically ill from fumes escaping into the fairly enclosed driving compartment, and the passengers were disorientated when the emerged into daylight the few times they could help extract the vehicle in testing.

For stationary weapons testing, the ranges were set up and for once you had reasonably good weather. Targets were at fifty meters and every hundred meters hither until five hundred meters, at which point you honestly needed a good tripod to hit things reliably. Targets were also placed so as to test the fields of fire on each vehicle.

Fenrus' halftrack half motorbike thing went first. Without any major issue it managed to engage all targets within ninety degrees off resting bore (resulting in the front arc from broadside to broadside able to be engaged) with an additional forty-five degrees off bore achievable if the gunner was willing to clamor over the driver's seat. In the forward arcs it was accurate to about three hundred meters using the stock adjustable sight on the gun, past which it took a saturation fire to hit the targets. In the arcs requiring clamoring around the driver's position, anything further than a hundred yards required a saturation attack to confirm hits.

The MANN Co halftrack, interestingly enough, did not ship with a true pintle mount but rather a model 65 tripod top fixture for it's Mg.51 and therefore had some outlying results in that it could, accurately, provide non-saturation fire from forty-five degrees off bore accurately out to nearly eight hundred meters. However, accuracy rapidly dropped off from that due to a slightly cramped operating space for the gunner, and from forty six to one hundred twenty degrees off bore accuracy was only good to four hundred fifty meters. The final sixty degrees could not be fired on at all, leaving the vehicle defenseless from the rear.

The GBA-92 that was up-armored directly was not tested, but the CCC modification was- and it turned out quite well. With full, three hundred and sixty degree engagement out to three hundred eighty meters, the otherwise problematic vehicle had no issues defending itself or others.

The Tortise Mod 1 fared rather poorly here, being only able to engage twenty-four degrees off bore with any degree of accuracy, pushing thirty if the gunner was willing to contort himself in the narrow roll cage of the vehicle and was willing to bump his foot on the radio set. The fire wasn't very accurate either, only good out to two hundred and fifty meters at best.

The armor testing was done the next day, against standard Mg.51 and I.Gew 49 rifles for standard fires, the G.Kar 69 anti-tank rifle firing the 6.5x80mm anti-tank cartridge from early in the war, and the PzJ.Gew 70 firing 13.2x96 anti-tank cartridge from late in the war. Weather was cloudy with a strong northwest breeze, with all guns firing from one hundred fifty meters.

First up was the motorcycle half track, by which now several of the crews of the other vehicles had developed a particular hate for due to the fact it didn't exist in a perpetual maintenance hell and actually let the crew have situational awareness. Because it was nominally unarmored, the dedicated anti-tank rifles were not used. Due to its small size, the first minute of fire by machine gun and ten rifles did fairly little, but once they had dialed in on the target it took only another twenty seconds of fire to detonate the light machine gun ammunition and start a nasty oil fire. The company chaplain was allowed to perform last rites, and the vehicle was moved into the Ulm Testing Ground vehicle graveyard for future generations to wonder what you were thinking.

The GBA-92 was next, and was rendered inoperable within a minute as the front end exploded into steam from a burst radiator, and shortly after caught fire when the sparking battery caught a fuel line on fire. Damage analysis of the crew substitute pigs was inconclusive due to damage from fire extinguishing, but it was judged likely they would have survived if not for the fact the vehicle was on fire and could possibly explode.

The CCC GBA-92 went in as soon as the last vehicle went out, and fared much better. The driver and co-driver were conclusively dead after three minutes, and the topdeck gunner was as well after two on the technicality of a headshot, or otherwise it would have been minute four. The engine was rendered inoperable at minute five, which was rather depressing as that's when the anti-tank rifles were ready to go.

The MANN CO halftrack was next, and much like the CCC design it lost it's top gunner to headshot early. The engine lost the radiator and oil pumps fairly quickly at minute three, but the driver and co-driver with window shields down lasted until minute six and the G.Kar 69s opened up, cutting through the battle shutters fairly easily. On inspection, the rear engine bay firewall was still intact, and if not for the shutter damage the operating crew would have been just fine while the engine soaked up bullets. Thankfully, the vehicle did not ignite under fire.

The Tortise Mod 1 was destroyed in under a minute, bursting into a rather dramatic fireball when the fuel tank was holed and a tracer round caught the cloud of spreading fumes. Post-shoot analysis was that this was not designed to take bullets, and the armor was effective only at making more shrapnel to shred the engine compartment.

Finally, you got down to the part that Anne-Marie had drilled into you the entire time you were in Ostafrika: how much did it cost?

Aside from equipping costs, which were the same in terms of adding the pintle gun and helmet rests and religious symbols so that bored chaplain didn't start complaining the Machine Spirits were malnourished, things worked out kind of odd.

(For comparison, a rifle is about one thaler these days, an Lmg.71 is about forty five thalers, and a W-5 is about two hundred sixty thalers. Your salary as a teaching oberstleutnant is about forty-five thalers yearly plus benefits worth an additional thirty thalers.)

The Tortise Mod 1 was about fifty thalers sixty kreutzer, and parts costs for peace use came out to nine thalers yearly (outside fuel and PoL requirements)

That thing Fenrus made was about fifty eight thalers twenty kreutzer, and parts costs per peacetime year came out to six thalers yearly. Fenrus also told you that off the books he'd send you one if it got adopted and gave him a good chance to honorably retire early and keep his whole pension package.

The GBA-92 as modified by GBA would run about sixty six thalers one thirty kreutzer, and parts costs per peacetime year would come out to eleven thalers yearly. Potsdaman told you off the books they could probably get the price down some more if there was a large enough contract and they could open up a new shop, but if you modified the design costs would probably shoot up.

The CCC modified GBA-92 would run about eighty five thalers one hundred kreutzer, and parts cost per peacetime year would run ten thalers yearly. Jung has told you that price is pretty thin, but modifications to the design wouldn't be hard unless you wanted a radical redesign and they had to change the roll cage or armor cage. Jung also told you she'd be happy to show you a tour of Commorate Casting Corporation sometime, and help personally tailor any work you had to present to a board.

The MANN CO design came in at the most expensive, running at ninety thalers apiece even, with yearly maintenance costs of twelve thalers.

Well. Time to think.



VOTES
(plan votes plz)
(Reminder: you can adopt multiple vehicles in the end: adopting one and leaving the rest for further refinement is possible)

[] ADOPT a vehicle?
[] MODIFY a vehicle?
[] REJECT a vehicle?
 
Contest 6 Test 1 results table
Time for tables

Manufacturer Race Time Stoppages Rally Fuel Minor Issues Major Issues Armor Weapon Angles Weapon Range Cost Yearly Cost
Kettenkrad 23 1x Engine, 1x Track Yes Eats oil, clutch safety N/A N/A 90° easily, 150° possible 100-300 58T20K 6T
Tortoise 31 1x Engine, 4x Track Yes Oil leak, traction control, poor handling Suspension died, gets stuck often N/A 24° easily, 30° possible 250 50T60K 9T
MANN CO 40 1x Clutch Yes Eats oil, clutch sticks, radiator leaks Gets stuck easily, unreliable radiator Engine compartment 3min, Crew compartment 6min + AT rifle 45° easily, 120° possible 300-800 90T 12T
GBA-92 29 1x Tire Yes Clogged vents N/A N/A N/A N/A 60T130K 11T
CCC mod GBA-92 35 3x Crash, 2x Track, 1x Tire Yes N/A Gets stuck easily, looses track a lot, broken axles, front end system damage Engine 5min, Crew 3min 360° 380 85T100K 10T
Note: the time rating for the armor is time exposed to machine gun fire.
 
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Contest 4 Result
Also since I'm an idiot and forgot to post this earlier, after your deployment to the Colonies the Seebatalions adopted the UkW-1 as their standard armored breakthrough vehicle. They are, on the whole, pretty happy with this decision. The general armor regiment community had some serious pushback, but the fact their W-5 tanks were worse across the board got them to back down.
 
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