Training Day [Open]

[Laya Eteric]

The V-2 diesel engine sputtered and stalled. Laya Eteric cursed and pulled the gear shift--with a fair bit of effort--back into neutral. The T-34, the USSR’s new medium tank, rolled to a stop. She had never driven such a vehicle before, and was clearly having some troubles, as one might expect for a first attempt. She grunted and pulled the two steering levers back, to prevent the tank from rolling further while the engine was off.

Laya was by no means weak, but the steering took significant effort, taking as much as 35 kilos of force to move the levers, as there were no power assists in the new tank. With the invasion by the Germans, tanks and troops and anything that could fight were desperately needed. As such, training was rapid--just enough to (hopefully) keep the crews from crashing into each other or head on into a tree, and that’s it, sent off to battle. It would not result in the best crews, but it meant that there WERE crews, herself included.

The T-34 was, of course, a more modern design than what the German forces were design, with a dual purpose 76.2mm cannon and armour both thick and well sloped. Although many Soviet tankers were stuck in BT and T-60 light tanks, or the well armoured but slow KV’s, she was lucky enough to be assigned to the new medium tank, which promised to be better than all else that had come before it.

As for Laya, she had simply shoved it into the wrong gear at too low a speed, and so the engine could not keep running. Sighing, she attempted the start sequence once more. Clutch depressed (a very heavy clutch at that), and the brake pedal as well--the odd design of the transmission was such that, just because the gear stick was in the neutral position, did not mean that the transmission was not actually in gear. As such, the tank could suddenly lurch forward or back when attempting to start it…

“Ahah!” she grinned as the engine finally restarted, returning to an idle a few moments later. She shoved the stick back into the low gear selection, and hopefully, this time she wouldn’t stall.

[Matteus von Haldor Valdemar]

Getting a hold of soviet uniforms for his cohorts was easy enough. Even getting the weapons did not prove to be too difficult. Trying to get three former Nazis not to look like three Nazis dressed in soviet uniforms was a bit more difficult. However with the application of axle grease to darken the hair and a little ash from a camp fire, having them practice moving with less rigidity and slouching their shoulders a little, Matteus believed he had pulled it off. The only one who looked like a convincing Russian was the Russian himself, Artur Dobrikov. Artur was the only one who could speak the language properly as well. Matteus knew a fair bit from his previous life as a smuggler, but the Germans and Austrian only knew enough to tell Russians to surrender and get on the ground. Those particular phrases would not help out much at all for this mission.

Only Matteus was not wearing a Russian uniform, instead he wore corporate camouflage in the form of a simple suit. He was planning on passing himself off as an Adjunct of the Swedish Consulate on a peace mission. The “Russian” soldiers accompanying him where his honor guard supplied to him by the Russian Military. His real mission, well, people put bounties on more than just people.

The soviet truck they had stolen bounced over the rough road as they made their way toward a training camp where the Russians were supposedly testing a new kind of tank. As they bounced closer they came upon a checkpoint, where Artur flashed some counterfeit orders at the guards and shouted at them until they let them pass. With Artur wearing the insignia of a Senior Lieutenant they did not have much of a choice but to obey. They drove onwards bouncing over roads that had obviously had tank tracks tearing them up when they spotted a tank in a field that none of them had ever seen before.
‘That must be the new one.’ Matteus said, ‘Let us see if these orders were worth the price we paid for them.’ Matteus had traded a crate of very hard to come by medicine to a doctor a while back for the orders Artur now held.
‘There is only one way to find out.’ Artur said as Royce turned the truck onto the field and headed straight for the tank. If things did not go well, they had smoke grenades to cover their retreat in the back of the soviet truck that they could throw while they ran. Royce pulled up a safe distance from the strange tank and Artur and Matteus climbed down. The other three would remain with the truck so no one could get a close look at them. As Matteus followed Artur toward the tank the others climbed down and meandered around, stretching as if they had been riding for several hours before leaning against the truck casually.
As Artur neared the tank he held out the counterfeit orders and waited.