In Need of Spares (Heiko)

[Laya Eteric]

It was nearly 1 in the morning as a lone GAZ-67 climbed up the small, dirt road, slowly but surely approaching a train. Laya Eteric depressed the clutch and shoved the shifter down into the second gear, preventing it from losing any more speed. She shivered slightly due to the cold air; it wasn't the temperature itself, so much as the wind. It didn't bother her when the air was still. Laya shook her head a bit, trying to keep awake. She hated long night drives, they made her want to fall asleep at the wheel. The worst part is that she'd no longer be tired once she got out of the car, but then she would be tired once again when returning to driving.

The new T-34 medium tank was a great relief to the Red Army. Previous tanks were either too light and poorly armed to hurt the Fascist vehicles, such as the T-26, or were lumbering, multi-turreted monsters that broke down before reaching the battle, like the T-28 or T-35. The T-34, however (along with the KV-1 heavy) outdid everything that came before it: it was fast, had good armour that was even sloped, and a long 76.2mm dual-purpose gun. It shocked the enemy to no end...and Laya had the privilege of commanding one.

And then it's transmission gave out. Laya swore under her breath remembering the fact; it seems cheap production to get sheer numbers had its downsides. It had to be towed back behind the front lines, under fire, an experience that she would rather have done without, but she and her crew had made it.

Sitting beside Laya, was her superior, Lieutenant Alkeav. He had known where a supply train was, one that likely had a spare transmission. Fortunately, he had managed to negotiate the acquirement of one, much to her relief. They were running along side the train now, and she shifted into third, and finally fourth, gaining speed. There were numerous box cars as well as flatcars with tanks, about three boxcars between each tank to spread the weight. Eventually, she spotted what they came for: a T-34, yet unloaded, with a spare transmission strapped down to the engine deck. ”Here we are, sir,” she grinned, turning away from the train, followed by reversing slowly to it. She killed the engine and stood up, stretching her legs a bit. ”Alright sir, ready when you are.”

[Nikolai Feliksovich Alkeav]

Lieutenant Alkeav sat silently in the front passenger seat of his personal staff car as it sped through the night. The air was cold and biting; necessitating the Soviet officer draw up the collar of his great coat to protect his face from the frigid night. It was times like these that made him regret his disdain for the Ushanka; despite the practicality of the hat, he just couldn’t see himself with that mass of fur atop his head.

To the left sat junior Sergeant Laya Eteric at the wheel. One of the few tank commanders under Alkeav’s command to escape serious harm in the face of the fascists’ advance into the Motherland. The stout women’s love of both her T-34 and food were equally strong and equally unsettling… very unsettling.

Rounding out the trio in the backseat was the head company mechanic, senior Sergeant Gergori… actually, Alkeav had never learned Gregori’s family name or even his patronymic. It had just never come up. When asked for his name he only ever replied with “Gregori” and since he was such a fine mechanic no one ever bothered to press the matter any further.

The purpose of their trip? Repairing Eteric’s beloved T-34. The problem? Penetration of the the armour? A thrown track in the heat of battle? Perhaps even a deformed barrel from sustained fire? None of the above. A blown transmission. Well, at least that happened while advancing against the enemy? Right? No. The T-34 blew it’s transmission while on the march in retreat away from the enemy.

The officer sighed and looked at his watch, the time barely visible in the moonlight. One in the morning, tired and frustrated Alkeav attempted to rub the sleep from his eyes. Unsuccessfully. The fascists wouldn’t wait for morning so neither could the repairs.

The car growled as Eteric shifted into a lower gear for the approach to their destination. Alkeav had spent the majority of the previous afternoon hunting down a spare transmission via radio and had successfully negotiated the transfer of an incoming one to his company from one of the last supply trains still coming out this close to the front. Putting his hand into his inside coat pocket to confirm that had had the proper paperwork still with him, “Here we are, sir,” piped up Eteric as the car rolled to a stop parallel to the train, “Alright sir, ready when you are.”

“Let us get to work then,” replied the officer as he stepped out of the vehicle. The fresh smell of air had been replaced by the odor of motor oil and coal. Alkeav handed a lantern to the tank commander before the she and the mechanic made for the spare parts strapped to the top of another tank. Looking around, the area was noticeably empty. The train’s locomotive was still rumbling and spilling smoke into the night sky, but no guards or crewmen were present. “And please be quick, comrades”, added the officer as the light trailed away with the mechanically-inclined pair. Alkeav not wanting to stay too still in the cold, started to wander off toward an adjacent rail car.

[Laya Eteric]

The three troops stepped out of the small vehicle, where the wind had started to die down. Laya took the lantern handed to her by her superior officer, and climbed onto the flatcar, and onto the tank, along with Gergori, a Senior Sergeant, and one of the best mechanics around. While the rest of the crew was removing the stripped transmission, a problem that she hoped was an individual defect and not a routine factory flaw, the trio here were to focus on retrieving a new one. The night was surprisingly clear, despite the mud and snow on the ground; the moon was clearly visible, and in some places, stars as well, but there were still patches of opaque clouds.

Psssh-pssh...Psssh-pssh... hissed the air-pumps of the steam locomotive, making sure that the automatic air brakes were charged. The locomotive itself, a 2-10-0, dated from the First World War; in fact, it was constructed by the Americans, for the Tsarist regime, but more were being built for the Soviets now. Laya had heard that some of the early ones were never sent due to the October Revolution; despite the American rail gauge being nearly 9 centimetres narrower, they were simply fitted with wider wheels, and worked just as well, often known as “Russian Decapods.” That the locomotive was being kept stoked up meant that it was not long before the train would leave; its contents were bound elsewhere, it was merely stopped here to service the locomotive and change crews.

Lieutenant Alkeav noted for the two to hurry, as if I wouldn't, and wandered off, though Laya took little notice, as she was now focused on the machinery they came for. She snipped the wires that held the transmission firmly against the engine deck of the T-34. This particular vehicle had a low slung gun of the very earliest vehicles. Considering the wear in some places, and the decided lack of it on one patch of the hull, Laya was certain that this vehicle was knocked out, repaired, and was now being returned to service. The Fascists were often forced to burn their tanks if they weren't completely destroyed already, if for no other reason than being far less able to recover anything from the mud of Rasputitsa. Satisfied that the wires and restraints were gone, Laya took hold of one end of the transmission. “Okay, Gergori, let's lift.”

Laya groaned, slowly lifting her half of the heavy chunk of metal. Her legs quivered a bit, but after a moment to catch her breath, she stood herself up in one great heave. “Alright, let's step off...” Laya may have been potbellied and overweight, but she was not necessarily out-of-shape; she did have a good amount of muscle underneath that fat. Not that she'd want to lose the weight, not in the temperatures of the Soviet Union. Especially when winter came. The two slowly climbed off the tank, and set the transmission back down, onto the flatcar, so as not to drop it if they had tried moving it to the car in one move, and took a few moments to rest.

“Alright, one last move...!” she gritted, lifting the transmission once more, and stepped onto the gravel of the track bed with an “Urf!” With Laya walking to one side of the car and Gergori to the other, the transmission was finally lowered into the rear seat, the springs groaning a bit as they adjusted to the new load. “There we go...” sighed Laya, smiling a bit. “Tovarishch Leitenant, we're ready to go!” she called, climbing into the seat and starting the engine.

[Nikolai Feliksovich Alkeav]

Curiosity had taken hold of the lieutenant. As he approached the boxcar to the fore of the flatbed carrying the tank, he noticed the lack of any locking mechanism on the large sliding door. Unusual to say the least.

Upon reaching the door, he noticed another curiosity, the area on which the contents of the car would normally be described was conspicuously blank. Wholly unable to stop himself now, Alkeav cautiously slid the door open taking a peek inside. What little light made it through the partially open door revealed a rather lightly loaded cargo. Mostly small creates stacked only about waist high at either end of the car.
Temptation can be a dangerous thing, but he'd surely squared off against most dangerous opponents before.
With that thought, Alkeav took one last furtive glance around and hoisted himself unto to train.

Aside from the vague shape of creates lining the sides, the lack of light made inspecting the contents of the cargo difficult. Alkeav cautiously tread through the dark to the nearest stack of creates opening the top crate. The contents were small little boxes. Taking hold of one, the officer carried the back to the door to inspect it more closely.

Matches? And nice ones at that. Alkeav returned to the interior of the car, and struck one of the matches. The flickering light revealed that every crate was marked “special” rather than actually listing the contents. Alkeav extinguished the match with a quick flick of the wrist before the flame scorched his fingertips.

Another match was struck; another crate opened. This time the crate was full of cigars. The next crate, vodka. Now this one was of interest.

[Laya Eteric]

Clouds shifted slowly across the night sky. It was almost totally quiet, save for the rhythmic hissing of the locomotive's air pumps, and the occasional bubbly grumble as Laya's gut worked off its last meal. No one was around as far as she knew besides herself, the mechanic, and their officer, Lieutenant Alkeav; not even the locomotive crew was present. Where is he? she thought, looking back at the train. She didn't spot him, but did notice a light coming from one of the boxcars. Perhaps that was where Alkeav had gone. Sighing, she cut off the engine to stop wasting petrol.

She stepped off, back into the mud. The car's rear wheels did not sink as they were sitting on the gravel bed for the tracks. Laya was glad to have her tanker coveralls, they provided an extra layer of warmth; the German tankers had to put up with just a single suit-like outfit. Hehehe, that tie suuuuure helps them in the winter, she giggled mentally at the thought. Stepping onto the ballast, Laya made her way to the open boxcar, hoping to find Alkeav.

“Leitenant, sir? Are you in here?” called Laya as she looked inside...indeed, there was her officer, inspecting the crates inside the unusually empty car. He was looking through crates, most of which, if not all, were marked with “SPECIAL” and nothing else. She couldn't see what was in one of the others he'd opened, but at that moment, he was inspecting a crate filled with bottles...alcohol she suspected heavily. Was he really thinking of taking that, or was he just looking? Surely that the crates had been opened would be noticed...

“Ahh... Leitenant, we're loaded and ready to go...just waiting for your order.”