The Valley of Tears- Alithean Medium Gun Tractors

The horizon was just starting to glow to the east. Master-Yawdryl Sty'v sat in his hatch, eating a bag of oatmeal and watching. A touch at his knee and Pol, the driver, was handing up a mug of hot tea. They had found some honey a few days ago so he enjoyed the sweetness overlying the strong bitterness of the tea. He set his bag of oatmeal and the mug on top of the turret and picked up his field glasses to scan his front. They were nice field glasses, hand crafted in Cy'wnt, with very clear optics and a 10x magnification. The Blues officer he got them from wouldn't need them anymore, being dead and all.

He spotted some movement in the long shadows to his front, and dialed up that high quality magnification. A hand waved a Bogen from a ditch and carefully stood up, waving both hands.

He keyed his throat mic. "Five-One to all Five Call Signs. Patrol coming in. Check your fire." 

He waited for the other vehicles in the wedge to click in acknowledgment and then waved the figure in. Three others stood up and filed towards him. Hurrying now that safety, food, and perhaps sleep in a dug out awaited them.

The heavily camouflaged patrol filed by like so many walking bushes. A fireteam of three with a bruised and raggedy looking prisoner.

"Good night then?" Sty'v called down to the patrol leader. 

The Milwer looked up. "Good enough. In and out without any contact. Nabbed this one while he was having a pee." Sty'v laughed.

Camouflage netting is cheese cloth soaked in white glue and draped on and allowed to dry before priming.

The patrol leader looked back from where he had come. "But get ready. They're coming. And soon." He then hustled off to catch up to his fireteam who where taking their prisoner back to the HQ bunker to be interrogated.

The squadron was supporting an infantry catrawd set up in a blocking position at the head of a valley. They were protecting the flank of a larger movement that was pushing south into Coftyran lines. If the Blues broke through here, they'd cut the Corps' lines of communication and the entire offensive would fall apart.

He keyed his throat mic again. "All Five Call Signs. Be advised. Enemy attack imminent. Eat up, load up and be ready. Check your engines."

He drank his tea and watched through his binoculars and listened to the rest of the wedge as they acknowledged and started up their engines to make sure they could move.

Quar on the left is pointing with a cigar

The scream of the first shell was their notice that something was happening. Sty'v dumped the remains of his mug over the side and ducked down as dirt and shrapnel rained down around them. The air shook and the tractor rocked with the blasts. He risked a peek out of the hatch, barely lifting his snout over the rim. Infantry officer's whistles blew. Their NCOs shouting at the rhyflers to stand to in their trenches.

Every AFV has to have stowage. Being Quar these are probably boxes of rations; tins of corned moth and beetle soup.

The infantry trenches were along the top of a low rise. The tractors were just behind, using the height of their turrets to achieve a hull down position. Each tractor had a primary position marked out and secondaries to their left and right. They'd shoot, back up, move left or right, move up and shoot again. This would keep the Coftyrans from getting zeroed in on them.

Spring

The barrage moved off behind them. Sty'v was up in his hatch. "Everybody up! Here they come!" He looked front and sure enough waves of grey blue infantry were advancing out of a smoke screen, bayonets fixed with their multi-coloured gun tractors moving amongst them. Fortunately something had slowed them down and they hadn't kept up with the barrage. The infantry in the trench opened fire.

Is-Caerten Arwan got on the radio net. "Five Actual to all Five Call Signs. Enemy tractors are the priority. Open fire!"

Sty'v spoke to J'yyd, his own gunner. "You heard the quar. Load armour piercing. See that Paerwyn at 300 meters?"

"Ready!"

"Fire!"

Autumn

The turret rocked as the 78mm gun sent an armour piercing round howling down range. A solid hit made the Coftyran heavy tractor stop. "Hit 'im again!" 

Another round smashed into the front, causing the target to begin to smoke. He didn't wait to see what happed to it. A burning tractor was a death trap, so the crew would bail and be out of the fight. Hanging about to watch would just make him a target.

"Driver reverse!" They backed down below the ridge as a shell screamed past overhead. "Left!" The driver turned them left and jinked over 10 meters to their secondary position. Once the gun was clear of the ridge he called "Driver halt!"

He scanned for targets. "Target left. Chyweethl! Two five zero meters." The turret rotated slightly to aim at the new target.

"Firing!" the gunner called out and the turret bucked again.

Sty'v watched as the small, mhudd-ball shaped tractor exploded with a gratifying blossom of fire. 

"Diver reverse! Take us to the third position." Shells exploded where they had just been.

As they popped up into the third firing position he saw dozens of pillars of smoke across the field from burning tractors. The wedge was doing good work today and proving the utility of those hot days spent on the firing range. But there were many more enemy tractors still advancing and firing. 

He spotted a big boxy assault tractor moving up to help the infantry push through the thin belt of wire they had managed to string. It was like a bunker on tracks. Machine guns and heavy shotguns at the corners and sides spat flames at the infantry. A domed turret with a 70mm cannon started to train on them. "Draepkyndl, five zero meters. Fire!"

Their round smashed into the side. Smoke and flames jetted out of the multiple gun ports. With a bang that he could hear over the sound of the battle the turret blew off and sailed into the air.

Summer

"Driver reverse!" As they backed down the slope he looked over and saw Is-Caerten Arwan's tractor pulling up into a firing position, the young officer sitting up in his hatch like all Crusader Tractor Corps officers were taught. Just as they crested, a shell smashed into the top of the turret, decapitating the young quar and taking off the hatch.

The tractor stopped. Not doing anything. Sty'v keyed the throat mic. "Five Six to Five Zero. Keep fighting! Pick a target and shoot. Shoot and scoot. Remember your training!"

The tractor fired off a shot and hurriedly backed up again.

They had just blown up another Chyweethl when the his tractor rocked sideways and he was thrown against the hatch rim. Pol, the driver was screaming. Smoke started coming up from between his knees. "Bail out! Bail out!"

Sty'v jumped over the side and landed heavily in the dirt. A big hole was torn in the side with smoke coming out. The side door popped open and J'yyd the gunner pushed a bloodied Pol out and onto the ground. Sty'v checked himself. Except for some soreness from where he'd been slammed against the hatch and then hit the ground he was intact. He grabbed J'yyd by the shoulder and shouted into his dazed face. "Get Pol to the RAP!" and pointed in the direction of the Regimental Aid Post.

He looked around. Three of the wedge were still fighting. Five-Four was burning. Five-Zero, the Is-Caerten's tractor was at the bottom of the slope not doing anything. He ran over to it and climbed up the side. Arwan's headless corpse was still sitting in it's seat. He swore and grabbed the body of the young officer by it's armpits and heaved the bloody mess out of the hatch and dumped it on the ground with an apology to the lad's Ancestors. He climbed in. The gunner was dazed and covered in blood. The driver was crying.

"Derfal. DERFAL! This blood? Is it yours?" Derfal, the gunner shook his head. He grabbed the driver, Jyg, by the shoulder. "Jyg? Jyg! Hold it together!"

He climbed back into the seat and plugged his mic into the socket. "Right. Driver advance! Gunner. Load AP!" He switched to the Wedge network. "All Five Call Signs, this is Five Actual. Keep fighting! Keep firing!"

As they crested the rise he scanned for targets through the valley filled with smoke and fire and tears. "Chyweethl. One hundred meters. Fire!"

************************************

It's taken a while to finish the three Alithean tractors Don printed for me. They sat in their green base coat for a long time as I was mulling over how to finish them and debating tactical signs with myself. I used some 1/100th British armour markings but opted not to do anything more.

Initially I wasn't happy with the autumn leaf pattern, thinking it looked too muddy. I should have been patient and let things dry between each colour. But Wargames Atlantic used it in a post, so I guess it is more successful than I thought. For the third tractor I just took the easy rout and did some NATO bands of dark grey and khaki.